“Insects?” I echo, surprised. I do remember seeing a beautiful beetle drawing at his place.
“Hyper-realistic ones. I get people from all around the world coming to get one done.”
“That is such a peculiar choice.”
He dismissively shrugs his broad shoulders. “I grew up with too many of those fuckers in Australia, so I was familiar with the topic. And when I was a kid, we had this neighbor in Brisbane who collected insects. He was a retired researcher who wasn’t quite done with his passion. His home office was filled with hundreds of preserved bugs in cabinets, drawers, or even framed on the walls.”
“Did you develop a fondness for them, then?”
“Not really. It’s more of an appreciation. The varieties in shapes, sizes, colors… When you observe them well enough, some actually look like they come from another world.”
I ponder on that for a moment. Yes, there are some beautiful insects out there. “My sister had a thing for ladybugs,” I disclose fondly.
“You have a sister?”
Ah, shoot.I shouldn’t have brought up Victoria. That’ll ruin the mood. “I had a twin. She died almost ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s alright, it-it was a long time ago.”
He reaches out, resting a hand over mine. “Still. It couldn’t have been easy.”
“No, it really wasn’t.”
“Can I ask what happened to her?” he wonders.
“Car accident. She was driving at night, hit a deer, and…” I shake my head, the pinch in my heart preventing me from saying more. Almost a decade, and it hasn’t stopped hurting.
Jake arranges my hand into his and gently squeezes it as if to let me know I’m not alone. Desperate to change the topic, I ask, “What about you? Do you have siblings?”
“Not that I know of. My father was quick to disappear though, so who knows?”
I wince, too familiar with broken families, even though my parents remained together. “Was it just you and your mom, then?”
“Yeah. She was a nurse, earning a shit salary and working long hours. But she always provided me with everything a child needs.”
“Is she still in Australia?”
“Technically, yes. She died when I was thirteen.”
Oof. Now, I properly managed to ruin the mood. I try to find something to say other than the usual condolences—which are too generic to sound sincere. Before I have something, Jake chuckles.
“We’re a depressing duo, aren’t we?” he asks humorously. “Thank God we’re better at fucking than small talk.”
I giggle, impressed by how easily he diffused the situation. “We should venture into a more fun territory and leave our chaotic pasts behind us,” he suggests in a flirty way.
“Oh, I know! I finalized the new contract!” I spring to my feet to go get the copies in my office.
“I saidfunterritory, red!” he protests.
“It will be!” I promise. The first time we did this was very entertaining, so this time will be too.
When I return with everything, he has brought the dinner stuff back into the kitchen and is on the couch. I giddily join him there, hand him a copy, and sit.
“You know we don’t need a contract, right?” he carefully asks. “I’m a decent bloke, and I don’t have to sign something to treat you right.”
“I realize that, but I like the idea of it. It gives me a sense of security—like I’m in control. I know you would be the same with or without it, but having it is like a safety blanket.”
