Chapter Thirty-Three

One thing I've learned about Jakeis that he isn't an anxious person. He breezes through life with ease and doesn't bother with emotions as useless as stress or nervousness. As we make our way out of his car to enter my brother's building in South Central Park though, the confident and easygoing Jake I've come to know and love is entirely gone. The man walking by my side is a jittery mess who can't stop adjusting his necktie.

"I told you the tie wasn't a good idea," I point out as we reach the entrance.

He opens the door for me, holding a massive bouquet over a big cake box while I have a bag thrown over my shoulder holding a few things. We came bearing gifts, hoping it would help our odds.

"I should have listened," he agrees, tugging at the tie yet again. "I feel like I'm being choked."

"You prefer it when I do it, don't you?" I tease.

Even though I'm the one bringing it up, heat spreads across my cheeks while he smirks. We got a little carried away this weekend, and I asked to take the lead and try a few things. Choking him while I passionately straddled him was among them, and he guided me through it until we both orgasmed together.

The concierge in the luxurious hallway knows me enough to require nothing more than a nod, so we head to the elevator lobby.

When Jake checks his reflection in the tall mirror to our right and adjusts his clothes, I bite back a smile. "Relax. My brother isn't as intimidating as my parents."

He's wearing a dark suit, which looks fantastic on him, and a blood-red tie. It works well with the reddish tattoos creeping up his neck. I know that he decided to wear a tie in an attempt to hide those as much as possible. He even suggested borrowing my foundation to hide it. I pointed out that not only do our skin tones not match, but it would also be pointless. My brother will eventually learn the truth.

"Everything will be fine, wombat," I promise, offering him an encouraging smile. When he bends down for a kiss, I gladly give it to him. He needs strength and courage.

I'm not as confident as I look, but I pretend for his sake. After tonight, my parents will eventually hear about Jake, since Gerry might mention him in passing. He works in tandem with our father, after all, so it's a high probability.

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, please do 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!"

Confused, I gaze at my brother again. "It's from Frozen," he explains. Oh.

"Are you Jake?" the youngest one, Poppy, asks when he joins us along with their mom.

"I am."

Poppy has the broadest grin as she says, "Aunt Genny said you have gifts."

"I do."

When she notices Jake's hands, all thoughts of gifts are gone. Curious, the little girl takes one to look at his knuckles up close. We watch, amused, as she rubs the ink there, trying to remove it.

"Is it Sharpie?" she asks.

"No, it's a tattoo. It's ink in the dermis layer of the skin."

She doesn't seem to understand what that means, but she tries to lift the buttoned wrist of his sleeve. "That's enough, pumpkin," Mal tells her.

"It's fine," Jake counters. "I can show her if that's alright with you."

"Of course."

Jake crouches down and undoes the button at his wrist to start methodically rolling it up over his muscular forearm. Marigold joins us, curious as well, and Camellia observes from afar. Once more of his forearm is revealed, the girls analyze the drawings inked there. Then, Poppy shows interest in the other side, and he indulges. When the little girl tugs on his necktie, I can guess the relief within him as he tugs it off and opens a couple of buttons at his neck to move the collar around and show the girls.

The softness with which he handles them is endearing, and I can swear I hear my ovaries chanting praises for him.

"Are you our new uncle?" Marigold asks.

Jake's a little taken aback by the question while I wince. "I can be if you want, sweetheart. And do you want to hear a secret?" The girl nods energetically. "I'm a lot more fun than Edward."

My nieces look up at me, awaiting confirmation, and I give them a nod. "He's a lot of fun, yes."

"Can I draw on you, too?" Poppy asks as a result.

"Maybe another time, sweetheart."

My niece pouts, so I take out the bottle of wine and hand the bag to Jake, who's still crouched to be level with the girls. The gifts should distract them away from the tattoos.

"So, I talk a bit funny because I'm from Australia. Do you know where that is?" Jake asks. The two youngest shake their heads while the oldest nods. "It's all the way on the other side of the world. We walk upside down there, and we have very special animals." He reaches into the bag and takes out a plush koala. "Ever heard of koalas?" he asks. This time, they all nod. "Well, koalas come from Australia, just like me. And they only eat eucalyptus leaves. This one's for you, sweetheart," he adds, handing it to the youngest. She takes the koala with keen excitement and examines it all over before hugging it. "Then we also have what's called a platypus, which is an animal that lactates like a cow and lays eggs like a duck."

The plush platypus goes to the eldest. The girls are entirely entranced by Jake, and I'm not surprised that his aura also works on kids. There's something about this man that pulls people in, some irresistible magnetism. It's good to see him relaxing already, his worries slowly fading.

"And I'm sure you've heard of kangaroos, Camellia," he continues, addressing the middle one by her name. He asked me many questions about her generalized anxiety disorder to make sure he'd quickly put her at ease. I explained that her selective mutism is getting better, but she tends to be shy around strangers and closes off. Which is why he took extra care of her with this gift. Camellia nods in response, and he pulls out a plush kangaroo from the bag. She takes it without too much hesitation, which is a great sign. "There you go, sweetheart. Did you know that mama 'roos have a pouch on their belly where they keep their babies?"

She nods again, so Jake continues, "I wonder if this one has anything in her pouch?"

Excitedly, Camellia looks into the pouch. When she finds the chocolate and candies Jake hid in there—with Malory's prior approval—her eyes light up. Jake gives her one of his charming winks, and she darts off with her sisters, who have already disappeared somewhere with their new toys.

"Thank you for your patience with them," Gerry says. "They don't have anyone with tattoos in their lives, so that was new to them."

"It's alright. I'm used to being the room's circus freak." Although his words are meant with humor, I'm compelled to lay a supportive hand on his forearm.

"Don't we get plush toys as well?" Malory jokes to lighten the mood.

"The wine and flowers will have to do. I got this one a wombat, so she has something to cuddle when I'm not there," he replies with amusement, gesturing toward me.

He did get me a wombat plush, which I'm only allowed to have in the bed when my living one isn't available. But while I love the gesture and laughed so much when I unwrapped it, I'm not sure I want my brother to think I'm regressing back to childhood.

"Drinks?" I suggest to change the topic.

"Great idea," Mal approves.

They offer to serve a kind of spritz they discovered during their trip to Saint-Tropez earlier this year, and we both agree to try it out. As he gets started, Gerry explains it's made with elderflower liqueur, and Jake, who's definitely feeling more at ease, offers to help him. I nervously eavesdrop while trying to appear inconspicuous. The girls are out of sight, probably in their playroom.

"Oh, you own a bar?" Gerry asks after Jake reveals that fact.

"With two of my mates, yeah. I used to help out behind the counter for a bit, but I'm shi—bad at not breaking bottles. Also, getting pissed with the patrons wasn't encouraged."

"Gen, can you help me with the appetizers?" Mal asks, forcing me to trust the process and leave the men alone.

Things go pretty smoothly though, and we all settle in the lounge area. "Jake was telling me he owns a gallery," Gerry explains to his wife as we get seated.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, it's been quite the success so far."

I watch with nothing but pride as Jake talks to them about his life's journey, and I can tell they're both impressed by everything he's accomplished. He's just getting to the ethical values of his parlor when Poppy reappears and snakes her way in front of him. Very proudly, she shows him her arm and the colorful doodles drawn there with a felt-tip pen.

"Poppy, what did you do?" I ask with widened eyes.

"Cami and Goldie helped me!" she reveals with a proud grin. Her sisters choose that moment to join us, their arms also filled with drawings. They look very happy with themselves in their nice evening dresses. Jake is as tense as I am, waiting for their parents' reaction.

"Girls, what did we say about using pens?" Mal asks with a slightly reprimanding tone.

Marigold looks down, putting her hands behind her to hide her arms. "We can only use them on paper."

"At least this will be easier to clean off than the walls," Gerry points out with unmasked amusement. "Is that a dolphin I see?" he then asks Camellia.

"Yes, I did it myself!"

That's enough to dissipate the tension, and the girls return to their jovial little selves as they show us the reason they've been so quiet for the past twenty minutes. When Mal suggests that their nanny help them remove the drawings, my nieces beg to keep them on for the evening. Although reluctantly, their parents agree—as long as they stay away from the white couch.

"You were telling us about your parlor?" Malory tells Jake once the girls are off again, playing with their new toys this time.

Jake returns to the recounting of his many accomplishments, and I'm touched by how genuinely charmed and interested my brother and his wife seem. It's not just me. This man is something else. Seeing him in this setting only proves it. My brother isn't as demanding as my parents, but he remains hard to impress. He has been surrounded by successful and influential people since childhood, after all. Despite that, I can tell that Jake is slowly but surely earning Gerry's seal of approval.

"Refill?" I offer, noticing our glasses are empty.

"I'll help you," my brother insists, picking up two glasses.

We walk together to the kitchen, and as we work on the next round of cocktails, I watch Jake and Mal have a few laughs.

When Poppy comes to demand some attention, Mal's quick to pick her up and set her on her lap, her love for the girl dripping from every pore. This is something our mother never did for us, and it's good to see that the generational trauma ends with Gerry and me. I still can't believe he defied all odds and ended up marrying a woman so different from our world. Maybe there's hope for Jake and me after all.

"She's too good for you," I remind Gerry with a smile.

His eyes are on Jake when he replies, "And he is too good for you."

I laugh and admire from afar the dashing Aussie who stole my heart. "I know, right? Isn't he amazing?"

"I'll be honest and say I was a little worried when I heard you and Eddie separated and that you were already seeing someone new. Then, when I saw him in the hallway earlier, I thought you'd lost your mind or wanted to give our parents a stroke. But now I get it, bug. He's vividly interesting and remarkably charismatic."

"He is. And I swear, he's such a great man. His values are amazing, and the respect he has for me is beyond anything I ever imagined. He's had a great influence on me."

"I can tell. I don't think I've seen you this alive and glowing since Vicky's accident."

The reminder of my twin, which always causes so much turmoil, only unleashes a slight twinge in my heart this time. "I haven't been this happy since that day, no. I actually can't tell if I was ever happy those past ten years or only convincing myself of it."

Gerry sighs, gazing at our respective partners, still having their laughs together.

A notification dings, and he pulls out his phone from his pocket right beside me. Without a thought, I casually glimpse at the screen when he checks it. Since I notice the sender is our mother, I feel comfortable enough to check on the message as well. The words written on the screen chill me to the bone, blood draining from my face.

Vivienne

Traffic was horrendous, but we're nearly there.

He doesn't bother to reply and returns the phone to his pocket.

"What was that?" I ask, fearing I already know the answer.

"The parents canceled their trip to DC and are coming here instead."

"What?! Ger, tell me this is a joke."

"Didn't you know? Mal was supposed to text you."

"I think I'd remember if I'd been warned. I'm not ready to introduce Jake to them!"

"Shit, maybe I was supposed to text you. I'm sorry, Gen. I didn't know he was covered in tattoos, so I didn't realize it would be tricky."

"Tattoos or not, this is bad, Gerry. So bad."

I try to assess the situation, wondering if we can make a break for it and be gone before my parents arrive. To make sure we don't cross their path, we can take the stairs down the forty-seven floors. I'd rather do that in these shoes than face my parents meeting Jake.

"Do they know we're here?" I question.

"I told them, yeah." Gerry then looks like something clicks in his mind, and his eyebrows twitch. "Come to think of it, they canceled their DC plans shortly after I told them you were coming with someone."

Crap, so they're coming to meet Jake. An escape would only delay the inevitable. They will eventually meet him, one way or another.

"Do you think maybe they won't mind?" I try, not even believing it myself.

"Of course they'll mind. But he is your choice, Gen. You have to stick to it. If I'd listened to them, I would never have married the small-town nurse. But here I am."

"It's not the same, Ger. We all owe Malory for saving your life. But Jake, he's…"

"It doesn't matter. He's the person you're choosing."

He is, and I have no doubt about it. But there's no way they'll ever accept him, and the strained relationship I have with them will only worsen. Things are hard enough as they are, and I don't think I can handle more resentment and disappointment on their part.

What am I supposed to do when they insist Jake is a mistake and demand that I fix it?

My hands tremble as I set the two cocktails on the coffee table. "Excuse us for a second," I tell Mal, grabbing Jake and tugging to force him up.

He's understandably confused as I drag him to my brother's home office, but he complies without protest. When the door closes behind us, he smoothly wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in.

"No, this isn't that kind of private moment," I correct him, pushing against his chest.

It takes me a few seconds to gather the courage to break it to him. He'll be as torn as I am and return to his earlier state of anxiousness. "I-I'm so sorry," I stammer at first. "I didn't realize this would be happening, but my parents are coming."

"Your parents?" he echoes. I nod. "Here?" Another silent confirmation. "Fucking hell."

"We can leave," I suggest. "We can take our stuff and go wait it out in the stairwell until Gerry texts me that the coast is clear. But they know we're here, so it might look bad."

"I was already stressed about meeting your brother, red, but this…"

"I know, I'm so sorry, wombat. That's why you get to decide. Either we leave before they arrive, or we come to terms with the fact that it'll happen either way, so we rip it off like a Band-Aid."

He intently thinks about it for several seconds, and I gnaw at my lower lip, my turmoil matching his. "What do you want?" he ends up asking.

"What I really want is to go back to five minutes ago, when everything was going so well, and you were being so perfect with my nieces that I was considering having you put a baby inside me when we get back to your place."

Although it's a joke, the words have a lot more weight than I intended, especially since we haven't talked about children yet. Jake's a little troubled too, and I internally scold myself for piling on more complications to this already tense moment.

"Well," he says after a while, "now I want to go home and pretend we're doing that. We'll call it training before the real thing."

I release a breathy and reassured giggle. We're on the same wavelength, as always, and no matter what happens, things will be fine between us.

"I love you, Jacob Clarke," I assert, framing his dashing face between my hands. "And I know in my heart that as long as we stick together, things will be fine."

"I love you, Genevieve Kensington. And again, Australia is a great alternative if tonight goes to shit."

"I'd face the venomous snakes, human-eating sharks, and crawling bugs for you."

"And I'd face your parents. A much harder task, if you ask me."

I laugh again before pulling him in for a kiss, recharging our courage and strength.

As we head back to the others, I see Jake rolling down his sleeves. "That's useless, wombat. Unless you can wear gloves and a turtleneck."

"Shit, why didn't I think of that?"

I take his hand, interlocking our fingers together. "Don't hide who you are. Be exactly as I love you."

"Your parents won't appreciate it."

"Then they'll miss out on someone fantastic."

When we enter the living area, Malory comes to us with an apologetic look on her face. "Gen, I'm so sorry. I thought Ger texted you, and he thought I did. We've been so busy with work, the girls, and Camellia's therapy that it completely slipped our minds."

"We're good, I think. Jake will be his charming, lovable self, and my parents might act like sensible human beings for once in their lives."

"Okay, great. Because they are coming up right now," she says with a wince.

My heart drops down to my stomach, a dreadful shiver crawling up my back under the dress. My skin there is probably covered with a rush of cold sweat, and I hate the ghastly feeling twisting my guts. Why must things be so complicated?

Gerry is out of sight, probably waiting for our parents in the entryway, and we sit back on the couch with Mal. Jake's hand is still in mine. His iron hold is unrelenting, but he doesn't squeeze or hurt me.

"How did you two meet, by the way?" Mal asks, probably trying to jump-start a conversation as we wait.

Jake and I exchange a slightly panicked look, both realizing our mistake. Why didn't we think of that? Why didn't we come up with some elaborate lie to explain how two people as different as we are ended up in a relationship?

Weirdly enough, the front door opening saves us from this uncomfortable moment. The relief instantly dies when I hear Vivienne's voice. "Can you believe this traffic? Next time, we'll take the helicopter," she pesters from the hall.

"Maybe it's a good thing we didn't fly out to DC after all," Father adds.

I only realize that I'm clamping Jake's hand when his thumb gives me a soft caress, so I loosen my grip. As soon as they come into view, preceded by Gerry, I nervously spring to my feet, ripping my hand away. My heart's hammering in my chest as I watch them come further in, and it suddenly stops when their attention narrows on Jake. He stands once they're near, and I guess he has clammy palms as well when he wipes them down the front of his pants.

Mal's the first one to greet them, and then it's my turn to offer a single kiss to my mother and father.

"This is—" My voice breaks, cut off by my nerves. "This is Jacob Clarke. I'm—We've been seeing each other for a couple of months."

I don't even think I'm breathing as they take him in, their haughty looks assessing him from head to toe. Mother's eyebrow quirks up with judgment, and my father's lips stiffen into a thin line.

Jake's the one courageously breaking the silence. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Kensington. You've raised a wonderful woman," he diplomatically says, pressing a hand in the middle of my back and extending the other one to shake theirs.

My father takes in the tattooed forearm and knuckles for a few seconds and eventually shakes Jake's hand. Then my mother does the same, and I'm amazed that they aren't already voicing their discontent.

The girls compliantly come when their mother calls for them, and horror appears on Mother's face.

"What happened to your arms, girls?"

"We have tattoos, like Uncle Jake!"

Vivienne freezes, and I'm convinced this will be it. This is when she'll blow up and curse me out for bringing a man like him into this family.

To my surprise, she says nothing, recomposes herself, and gives each girl a dry peck on the forehead. Father does the same, and we all migrate toward the living room.

When Mal asks what drinks she can get for them, Mother waves an unbothered hand. "Stay with us, dear, and ask the help to handle the drinks."

"We've dismissed them for the day," Gerry explains. "The nanny is the only one still on duty."

"She can pour wine, can't she?"

There's a long, awkward silence, and I can feel Jake's uneasiness at Mother's appalling behavior. "I'll do it," Malory insists. "Gen and Jake came with a bottle of Bordeaux that looks delectable."

Mother doesn't even try to hide her discontent, but she gives a vague nod and sits down. The tension lingers as we all settle on the couches. When Mal returns with glasses for my parents, she manages to spark up a conversation.

"So, what happened to the senator's Independence Day party in DC?"

"I thought we would shake things up this year," Vivienne explains. "And you know, with those eco-terrorists everywhere, taking the jet for an evening is just asking for trouble."

"Taking the chopper to avoid traffic is fine though," Jake can't help but point out.

My eyes go huge with shock, and I send him a panicked glance. My parents aren't receptive to humor, especially not at their expense.

Mother ignores his apt but unwelcomed remark and continues, explaining how those political events are filled with phony guests anyhow, and she'd much rather spend the Fourth with family. That's a first.

Jake and I are silent participants as Gerry and Mal lead the conversation, and it might be better this way. Especially if Jake can't stop himself from stirring shit. Mal, who's decidedly a great hostess, loops us now and then in the discussion, and the tension slowly dissipates.

Nothing bad has happened by the time we move on to the dinner table. Mother complains again about the lack of staff, arguing it was silly to let them have their day with their family. Jake is seated beside me, and I see the way he clenches his hand on the table. I mindlessly take it and lower it on my lap, giving him a gentle graze. He relaxes, molding it on my thigh and focusing on that instead.

Vivienne and Gerard Kensington aren't the most palatable people out there, but they are the only parents I have. And really, one can get used to this level of entitlement.

It happens over half an hour after they arrived, but Father finally acknowledges Jake directly and asks, "So, what do you do for a living, Mr. Clarke?"

Jake goes over his accomplishments for the second time tonight, using terminology that sounds a lot more serious this time around. Honestly, I'm amazed that my parents aren't having a stroke or throwing a fit. I expected anything but this somewhat indifferent reaction.

Was I wrong in thinking they would disapprove of him?