But it’s alright because I’m serious about this man. This isn’t a fling or a quarter-life crisis. If I can’t have him, I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life.
We enter the elevator together when it arrives and face the doors once inside.
“Do you think they’ll like the pavlova? Maybe I should have baked something more American, like a red velvet or—”
“It’ll be perfect, Jake. I’m still mad you didn’t make a tiny one for me to try beforehand.”
“I’ll remember for next time.”
I force him to meet my gaze and utter, “I love you, Jake, and everything will be okay.”
“I love you, red. And at the very worst, we’ll relocate to Australia. I haven’t been since I left, but I’m sure we can be happy there.”
I giggle. “We can be happy anywhere as long as we’re together.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, by the way. Gerry is Gerard Kensington the Fourth, and if this pops up in the conversation somehow,pleasedo not make fun of him for it. He hates it more than you can imagine.”
“The fourth? Does it give him social superiority compared to your ex, who was only a third?” he jokingly asks.
“I’m serious, Jake. It’s a sour topic for him.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”
He takes my hand, squeezing it a little too tightly, but I don’t complain. I’m touched that he’s so nervous because it shows how much he cares about me. His usual nonchalance is nowhere to be seen because he realizes how much this matters to me.
When the doors part again, he clenches my hand harder, and I lead him into the single-door hallway. I ring the bell, apparently too fast. “Wait no—Shit, I needed a second, Gen.”
“Take it now, I can hear someone coming.”
Sure enough, Malory opens the door, elegantly dressed in a peach cocktail dress. Her smile barely flinches when she goes from me to Jake, and I know her shock is due to the stark contrast between him and Eddie rather than any kind of judgment. She’s too good for that and way above that kind of prejudice.
“Hi, you two,” she greets after a brief second. “Come in!”
She moves to the side to let us in, and I say, “Hi, Mal. This is Jake. Jake, this is Malory.” When she extends a hand, Jake shakes it on autopilot. Then he stands there, tense and unsure of what to do. “The flowers are for you,” I say in his stead, picking them up and handing them to her, “and Jake baked the dessert, as discussed. It needs to go straight into the fridge.”
Gerry arrives in the small lobby at this precise moment, and just like Mal, he glitches when he sees Jake. Like his wife, he masks it swiftly and comes to us. “You must be Jake,” he greets.
“And you must be Gerard.”
I think I know this man too well because I can tell he actually restrains himself from adding “Kensington the Fourth.” He thankfully does, and the two men cordially shake hands.
“Call me Gerry, please. Come in! The girls have been waiting for their favorite aunt all day long.”
“I’m their only aunt,” I slip to Jake as we follow them further in. “And they only like me because I buy their love with gifts every time I’m here.”
The girls, ages nine, seven, and four, rush to us as soon as we come into view. We reach the kitchen area despite their enthusiastic greetings, and I set the bag on the counter while Mal helps Jake find some room in the fridge for his pavlova.
“Aunt Genny! Did you bring gifts?” The eldest, Marigold, asks.
“I’m afraid I didn’t, sorry girls. But my boyfriend Jake did!”
“You have a boyfriend named Jake? What about Uncle Eddie?”
I send Gerry a conflicting glance, not sure what to say. He offers no assistance, shrugging instead. What do children this age understand? “Eddie and I aren’t in love anymore, so we’ve separated.”
“Oh, like Anna and Hans! Now, she loves Kristoff!”
