Page 34 of Finding Jacob
He laughed, but still held out his hand to me.
“Will you be my baby’s godfather?”
He stilled and I hoped he wasn’t going to let go of my hands, I’d end up on my arse.
“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he said, smiling at me.
I kissed his cheek and thanked him. While he took my cup and his glass to the kitchen, I headed up to the spare room.
I tossed and turned that night, which was strange because the bed was usually very comfortable. I couldn’t place what kept me awake. Thoughts would pop into my head but not stay long enough for me to understand them. I woke the following morning feeling exhausted and disturbed without knowing why.
The following few days were manic. I had to rebook models to cover Jules and listen to her rant about the nasty press reports she was getting. The royalists were accusing her of draggingtheirprince away from his family and into degradation. She still hadn’t booked herself into The Priory and if she was waiting for me to do it, she’d wait a long time. It was her responsibility and only hers. If she truly wanted help, she had to seek it.
Jacob and I made two dates to meet up and had to cancel both. The first time, he was busy and couldn’t get back into London, and the second time, I was caught up at work. We had, however, made the plan for attending my sister’s wedding.
I also suspected that was the reason Jules hadn’t booked herself in.
Jules and Aimee, my sister, had been friends since primary school. The three of us had modelled together at one time. But my sister had plans for uni and a degree in economics. She’d done the degree and then deciding sleeping with married men—pre my ex—was more beneficial financially. She had always wanted to just be a kept woman. Now she was also pregnant, eight months, to be precise, she’d gotten her wish.
I shook, just the thought of her and my ex had me shudder.
“Ready to go?” I heard. I looked up from my desk to see Nathan holding two cups of takeout coffee. He handed one to me. “Looks like you need some energy.”
“I do, but I’ve had my one mug a day already,” I replied, looking longingly at the cup.
“Your loss,” he said, finishing his own then starting on mine.
I was finished for the day, for the weekend. The wedding was the following day. My mother, who seemed to think I’d forgiven her and we were besties, was bombarding me with pictures of favours and stupid shit, all full of excitement, and then grumbling when I didn’t respond with the same level of enthusiasm within minutes. I’d wanted to scream at her, tell her I, at least, had a job. In fact, that job had paid my parents’ mortgage off. I bet she conveniently forgot about that when favouring Aimee.
I was, for the first time, glad to leave the office. It saddened me to realise, and I’d kept it to myself, but my love of being a workaholic was gone. It felt more like a chore.
The morning/afternoon/evening sickness had passed, and for that I was thankful. The spots had gone, my tits had grown, and my moods were erratic. Although I didn’t have a noticeable bump I still wanted to conceal my stomach. I thanked God that Boho Hippy was all the rage.
Nathan dropped me off home and told me he hoped I had a great weekend at the wedding and with Jacob. He laughed as he waved and drove off. Not before demanding I call him with all the drama after the wedding.
I spent the evening taking a leisurely bath, moisturising my whole body, and slipping on some comfortable loungewear while I waited for Jacob. He had said he would be late and not to wait to eat, but I had some leftover Chinese in the fridge that could be reheated.
As the clock ticked on, I became nervous. I wasn’t sure why and it seemed baby was, too. He, and I wasn’t sure it was a he, of course, was moving. It was the same sensation as if we’d driven over the crest of a hill at speed. Perhaps he was nervous to meet his daddy as well.
Hour after hour passed. I switched off the television and checked my phone repeatedly. Disappointment started to flood my system. I began to think of a ‘story’ to cover his absence. I wanted to call, to text, but I wasn’t sure why, I didn’t. Instead, I turned off the lights and headed to bed.
I lay in the dark listening to myself breathe, trying to empty my mind and all that shit. Whatever relaxation technique I’d used in the past certainly wasn’t working that evening. Bump had decided to switch position again, I thought. I knew it wasn’t possible, but I stared to see if I could see it moving. I was glad Jacob hadn’t arrived; it would seem odd that I was staring at my stomach.
Just the thought of him, however, had me hot and bothered. Perhaps an orgasm would help me relax. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Without turning on the light, I rifled through the drawer in the bedside cabinet. My trusted battery-operated boyfriend felt wrong in my hand. I wanted Jacob. In his absence, it would have to do.
Whereas in the past, a ‘mechanical’ orgasm had been quite satisfying, it wasn’t that night. If anything, it left me more frustrated. All that had happened was baby had quietened down.
All sorts of silly thoughts flooded my mind.Could sex hurt the baby? Would a stomach ripping orgasm be felt?That last thought gave me a mini panic attack!
It was just as I was about to drift off that my phone flashed. Jacob’s name was displayed. For a few seconds I toyed with the idea of just leaving it. I wasn’t ready to hear him call off this close to the wedding. But I wanted to listen to his voice.
“Hey, I’ve woken you, haven’t I?” he said, quietly as if whispering.
“Yes, but that’s okay,” I lied.
“I’m outside. I’m so sorry to be this late. I’ll explain if you still want to let me in.”
I sat up abruptly. “I’ll be right down.”
