Page 82 of Fighting Jacob

The elevator car shakes from Tom’s hearty chuckle. It’s so robust, my body shudders right along with his. “You can call me Tom.” When our car reaches the lobby, he gestures for me to exit the elevator first. “Ladies before gentlemen.”

I let his comment slide since he was most likely born in an era where men were expected to act like gentlemen.

Once we receive our order from the barista, we take a seat in an empty booth at the back of the packed cafeteria. I add cream and sugar to my coffee. Tom drinks his as is.

“No sugar or cream? Yuck.”

Tom chuckles. “I don’t need to add sugar because I’m sweet enough as it is.”

Clumps of sugar plop into my mug when I whack the shit out of the sugar dispenser. “If my earlier performance is anything to go by, I should switch my order to straight sugar.”

Tom laughs so hard, he has to dab his eyes with a napkin. He’s spurting happy tears. “I like you, Lola.”

I nearly reply, I’m glad someone does, but I keep my mouth shut. Today isn't about me. It's not even about Jacob. It's about Noah and Emily and supporting them through an ordeal I hope will be over soon.

For the next several minutes, Tom and I sit in silence, enjoying our coffee. It's weird that I find comfort in something I generally find confusing. Silence and I have never been close, but Tom makes it not so daunting.

When I set down my empty mug, Tom’s gaze seeks mine. “Did you want another?”

I shake my head. “No, I better not. I’m barely sleeping as it is, so adding caffeine won’t help.”

“You’re not sleeping?” When I shake my head again, he adds on, “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.” My one word sounds like an entire sentence since it was delivered with a long, harsh breath. “I’m good. Fine. Just chipper.” Loathing my dejected tone, I shift the focus away from me and my mood-killer temper. “How do you know Noah?”

The worry in Tom’s eyes remains, but nothing can hold back his smile. “He’s like a son to me. I’ve known him since he was this high.” He splays his hand across his chest.

"So, you know my sister, Emily?”

“You’re Emily’s sister?” The longer his eyes roam over my face, the more his eyes bug. “I missed the similarities at the start, but there’s no denying them now. Your identical nose and the eyes should have given away your relation, but the contrast in your skin tone and hair coloring threw me off the scent.”

When he nudges his head to the milky white skin on my wrist, I cringe. I don’t hate that Emily has gorgeous olive skin while mine is a little bland—I’m noticing the time. It’s nearly 5 PM, which means I have under an hour before my shift at Pete’s. Although it would be nice not to have to work during situations like this, unfortunately, bills don’t take a back seat for a crisis. I still have a mortgage and a car payment to make at the end of the month.

After sliding out of the booth, I offer Tom my hand to shake. “It was a pleasure meeting you, but I have to go. I have to be at work in an hour.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Instead of accepting my handshake, he pulls me in for a firm, much-needed hug. “I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

When he scoots back to absorb my nonverbal confirmation, recognition slaps me hard in the face. I’m staring at an older version of Jacob.

Chapter Forty-Two

Lola

Eight weeks later...

* * *

“Excuse me, are you finished with that?” I point to the Ravenshoe News newspaper a gentleman just set down.

“This?” When I nod, he slants the newspaper my way, but before I can grasp it, he pulls it out of my reach. “What are you willing to give me for it?”

“The three dollars it’s worth?”

I stop digging through my purse for loose change when the gentleman counter bids, “I’d rather have your number.”

He’s cute... if you like your men in a business suit, but the last thing I need is more complications, meaning the only guy I’m interested in is BOB: my battery-operated boyfriend.

“I’m sorry, but I’m married.”

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