“No,” I said. “Trust me. It’s better to not know it’s coming.”
Hugo smiled at me, but it was sad, worn. “Spoken like someone who has never experienced the alternative.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I tell Jake I’ll move in with him the following week. My lease is up at the end of the month, and suddenly life is comprised of comparing moving company quotes and going through my closet, deciding how many hooded sweatshirts and cross-body bags one woman can own.
“I cleared out half the closet for you,” Jake says when I’m over that Saturday night. He’s pouring me a glass of sparkling water, and we’re waiting for a Mozza pizza delivery. I’m snacking on some of Mrs. Madden’s most recent batch of cookies, curled up on the couch.
“I’m probably going to need two-thirds,” I say. “I’m putting a lot in storage, but I have an alarming number of shoes.”
Jake laughs.
“I like your shoes. Come here. I want to show you something.”
He holds out a hand to me and pulls me up off the couch.
“I was comfortable,” I say, already unfurling myself.
“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
Jake leads me into the second bedroom. When I see what he’s done, I’m speechless. Usually there’s a couch and some exercise gear in there—and a television on a console against the main wall. All of that is gone. Instead, there are built-in shelving units, a beautiful mahogany desk, and a CB2 gold-and-oatmeal office chair. A maroon velvet love seat replaces the oversize couch.
“I wanted you to have somewhere that was just your own,” he says. “I know you value your space, so I wanted you to have it here, too. Just because we’re living together doesn’t mean you have to stop being who you are.”
I don’t know what to say. He’s transformed this space for me. I am overwhelmed by this gesture, the incredible man before me.
“Jake,” I say. “This is amazing.”
Jake takes my hand and leads me to the love seat. He strokes my fingers.
“I want you to know that this is serious for me. Not in a scary way, just—I really want to be with you. And to make all the commitments you can make to another person.”
I peer at him. “Are you proposing to me?”
He’s silent for a moment. “No,” he says. “But I hope I will, someday.”
I swallow. It’s everything I want to hear, of course. It’s everything any girl would want to hear. He’s generous and kind, and he’s transformed his antiseptic man cave into a room of my very own.
“If there’s something holding you back, you can tell me,” he says. “In fact, now would be the time.”
“What do you mean?”
Jake looks at me. He runs a hand from my shoulder downto my wrist and then holds my hand there. “Sometimes I feel like you have this other life I know nothing about. When you’re not here you’re just—I can feel it, you’re floating above us. And I want to be let in, into your whole life. All of it. I realize this is very bad movie dialogue. I see that. Wow, yeah, you can feel when it’s cringy—What I’m trying to say is, I want your honesty. I can handle your honesty.”
I take a breath. And then I prepare to tell him the thing I have avoided for so long. The thing I have only ever told one other man, a very long time ago.
“I love you,” I say. I look into his eyes and see the spark there, the relief and joy those words illicit in him. I say it again. “I love you, Jake.”
He smiles. He takes my face in his hands. “I really like hearing that,” he says. “You have no idea how much.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I have to tell him.”
Hugo and I are seated at Verve Coffee on Melrose, Murph’s leash tied to my chair. It’s a fancy coffee house that in New York would be a postage stamp and here takes up half a block. We’re at a table outside, on the deck. I have a specialty iced tea—some flavor called Huckleberry—and Hugo’s sipping from an iced espresso.
“Yeah,” he says. “You should, shouldn’t you?”
