Page 18 of Seven Minutes In Heaven
“But…” Claire hesitated. “Do you think we should?”
“I don’t know, Claire.” He squeezed her hand in his. “Doyouthink we should? It’s an invitation to lunch. Nothing more.”
It didn’t feel like nothing more when her hand sweated so much in his grasp. “I don’t know…” she bit her lip. “I really should get home.”
“Well, okay…” Jake released her. “Okay.”
He said it with such finality, that it was as if he released Claire from both his mind and heart.Don’t tell me he has feelings for me…Oh, no. That would make Thanksgiving dinners even weirder!Don’t be in love with me, Jake. It’s one thing if you have the hots for me after what happened at the party, but love?No, no, Claire was overthinking this. She needed to back off. Take stock. What the fuck ever.
Yet how could she swear that when a man who looked as concerned as him turned his back on her? Let alone with such resolution that she could feel his oath radiating from his heart?
“Don’t get involved with her, Jake. She’s gonna be your stepmother. It would be wrong. Not the cool kind of wrong, either. Just be nice to her. No hard feelings.”
Claire wasn’t psychic, but she swore she heard that in Jake’s heart.
“Wait.” She stopped him before he opened the bathroom door. “Okay. I’ll have lunch at your place… if you promise it will be light.” She put her hand on her stomach. “Not sure what’s going on in there.”
His eyes suggested he was about to rescind the invitation. Except the words coming out of his mouth said, “My car’s right out front in the parking lot. I’ll let you finish putting yourself together and wait for you out there… after I let everyone know how you’re doing.”
Claire watched him go. Gone was the concern and the warmth. All she felt now was the impending sense of dread – of things she did not yet understand.
Hell, she might never understand them. Few women had been in her position, after all.
***
Jake ordered from a soup and sandwich shop a block from his apartment. Claire had her choice of clam chowder or tomato basil. The thought of putting something with the texture of clam chowder into her stomach made her want to hurl again, so she went with the safer bet. Instead of a sandwich, she opted for a Caesar salad.
At least Jake didn’t make any dieting jokes, like some of Claire’s old boyfriends. Not that Claire felt any worse after getting in Jake’s car and driving ten minutes to his high-rise apartment downtown.
It’s smaller than I expected.Jake’s primary residence was a luxury one-bedroom apartment that was big enough to offer a separate office nook, but still a pauper’s chambers compared to his family’s mansion. Claire had always preferred the small and cozy apartments as opposed to sprawling mansions full of rooms she would never enter.Yet that’s where I’m living starting this summer.Maybe Arthur would let her have an apartment in the city. She could make the claim that it would save money in drivers and gas to get her around to functions and work.While insinuating he’ll have that much more time to spend with his mistresses…
She glanced at Jake from where she stood next to the living room window.I wonder how far the apple falls from the tree.Claire turned to him, but waited for an invitation to sit down before joining him at his small dining table. This impeccably kept bachelor pad did not scream that he spent a lot of time at home, let alone throwing dinner parties.
“Thank you for doing this.” Claire reached to fix up her own salad, but Jake had already arranged it on the plate and slid it toward her. “When I think about it, I really don’t want to go home yet.”
“Is your mother anti being sick?”
She is, but that’s not why I’m avoiding my house.“If I go home, there will probably be another ridiculous present from your father waiting for me. Did you know he sent me a giant portrait of me the other day? I never even posed for it! I have no idea what to do with that thing. I sent it to the house for him to hang up.”
Jake dropped the empty container that once held his salad. The fork that jumped up from the impact clattered and clanged on its grand journey down to the hardwood floors.
Claire bent down and picked up the fork that had landed next to her feet. “You okay?” she asked, handing him the dirty utensil.
“Yeah…” Jake tossed the fork into the kitchen sink and opened the plastic fork that came with their food. “Must’ve slipped.”
Claire studied his careful movements as he finished preparing his lunch and sat down across from her. “Anyway… the thing was huge. I guess I got creeped out because it reminded me so much of that portrait of your mother that’s hanging up in your father’s office.”
Jake placed his hands on either side of his plate and stared at the greens and tomatoes tossed together into a plastic carry-out box. “I often forget he still has that thing in there.”
“It’s so weird going in there and seeing his ex-wife hanging up in plain view.” Claire shuddered. “Sorry. No offense to your mother.”
“No,” Jake agreed, “it’s weird. My father is a strange man.” He sipped his water, but his face conveyed that he found it wanting. “I don’t say this to deter you from anything, Claire, but I’m often of the opinion that the man’s an idiot and still in love with my mother.”
Claire had half-bitten into a cherry tomato. “He never talks about her, unless he’s trying to impress someone.”
“Trust me. I can tell.” Jake bristled. “My mother is the one who divorced him, not the other way around. He was convinced the whole thing had been a joke until the lawyers shoved the papers beneath his nose and told him he reallydidhave to sign them. She hasn’t talked to him since. She doesn’t want to, either.” A sigh rattled the table. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear this. Like I said, I’m not trying to convince you to dump my father. You have your reasons for marrying him.”
“Don’t worry. I know he’s a cheater. He was fooling around with some woman at the engagement party. I heard them in the office bathroom.”
