Page 130 of The Fake Dating War

Wyatt whistles in low appreciation, which is very understandable. Every time I see Jake’s mother’s home, my mouth drops in awe, and I understand even more clearly why he wanted to save it for her.

A few vehicles are already parked, but they are expected. Jake’s mother is throwing a fancy luncheon for my parents and a few relatives who have flown in to hang out with his family. Maybe that’s why Jake seems so nervous? He’s not been acting like himself these last… two weeks? Most strange is how he’s not come over in the evenings or asked me to come over to his place. We’ve not seen each other enough that I’m considering an intervention about him overworking himself, which past-me would find highly fucking ironic.

The car turns off, and Jake and I get out. Leo doesn’t, rolling down the car window. “We’re going to wait until she gets up from her nap,” he hollers. “You two go ahead.”

Before I can argue or ask if they need help, Jake is off. I follow quickly behind, catching up with some jogging.

I nudge his arm. “You seem worried.”

“Hm.”

My hand brushes against his with question. He wipes his palm on his pants before interlacing our fingers. That’s—new. I’ve never seen him like this before. As if he’s in his head completely. It was like this during breakfast, too. He hadn’t eaten a thing.

“If our families hanging out so regularly feels too fast—” I start.

“It’s not.”

So he says, but I would understand if it was. A lot has changed in this past year, and there are days it feels unreal to me. Moments where I can’t believe how we’ve fitted our lives together, but also moments I want to strangle and straddle him at the same time.

What’s helped is how I quit my job—only to be offered another one by Mr.Davies. Shocker, but being in a commission-based position isn’t the best for my mental health at this stage in my life. I couldn’t seem to dial back my workaholic tendencies, knowing there could be more money made if I put in more hours—but then more hours made me push myself to the brink of exhaustion…

It was a vicious cycle.

Mr.Davies, panicked at the thought of losing me, created a whole new department for me to lead.Client Relations.It’s my responsibility to manage clientsafterthey’ve signed up with us. It’s been challenging but fulfilling to create my own processes and touch-points for communication. The substantial salary bump doesn’t hurt my interest either.

As for Jake, he’s gone to Mr.Davies with an offer to own shares in FINAN Group. There’s been a hefty amount of number crunching involved, and Jake asked to include my name on them, but I told him I wasn’t ready to be involved in the business side of things right now.

As for the two of us and our relationship, it’s been lovely even when we fight. Personally, it took some time for me to de-program certain habits. I swung between not allowing myself to rely on anyone else or worrying about whether I was doing enough to make the other person happy. To manage the two polarities of my past, therapy has helped, but also, strangely, wood carving has. It’s a new hobby full of delicate violence against lumber that brings me strange joy.

Jake argues it’s threatening how I like having so many sharp objects nearby, while simultaneously buying me loads more sharp objects to play with.

I no longer make fun of his spreadsheets but praise them, which turns out is A Thing in Bed for him. We’ve had too much fun with that. What’s also fun is our monthly Take Jake Coleman Out Of His Comfort Zone outings.

Sometimes it’s a group affair with our friends, and sometimes it’s the two of us. It’s a chance for him to consciously remember not to worry and stress about unplanned surprises or things not going exactly to plan. When he gives up control, he gets to have a break, not needing to be so dependable and on top of things. It’s such a treat to shower him with planned chaos—and that he lets me do it, because I’m trusted with his heart, but also his forgiveness if I take it too far.

It’s a leap of faith that we both keep taking to love each other.

All that being said, I’ve got no idea what is running through Jake’s head today. He seems deeply worried about something.

“I know my family is a lot?—”

Abruptly, he pulls me into a hug. I’m squeezed with warmth and affection, and everything melts inside me. I wonder if the sheer relief of being in his arms will ever go away. I don’t think it will.

“They are thebestkind of a lot,” he mumbles against my hair.

“Right. And I guess we’ve already done this as fake-boyfriend-girlfriend. So being real should be easy.”

“Just don’t kiss the side of my head. Aim for my mouth.”

I snort. “That joke is old.”

“It will never get old.” He lets go and offers his hand again. “Come on. Everyone is around back.”

Turning the corner, we pass by the side garden full of broad upturned leaves soaking in the sun. Here, Jake’s mother, Charlotte, has planted black-eyed Susan, beautyberry, and yellow daylilies. The stone pathway guides us under a cedar archway, and then past a wooden gate already open. Following the edge of the house, I enter the mouth of the backyard, expecting everyone to be there, but no one is.

Before us is an empty, untouched fairytale.

“Your mother outdid herself,” I gasp. “It’s unbelievable! Look at that gazebo. It’s huge. I wonder when she got that installed—and—oh, the flowers. They are my purple color I love so much, andsomany of them—my God, they are everywhere?—”

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