It’s now been six days and I’m pretty much done with this boat. I’m done with the people, and the sea,
and the silence, I’m going out of my mind. The others like to party every night, and even joining in, I
can’t really get in the mood. I don’t drink much without him here; I don’t want to let my guard down and
get in that state with no one to put me to bed. No one to watch over me. I smile sardonically at that.
Who knew the reason that I felt able to get that drunk and let go a little was because he was around?
Ironic really.
The one thing he accused me of not being able to do and I did it because he was here.
I check my cell for the millionth time, I guess he really needed to let off a lot of steam … I wonder how
many women it’s taken exactly. It isn’t like Jake to spend six full days with just one … he doesn’t like
any of them that much. In six days, he’s probably seen at least three women, if not more. It’s a
sobering thought and I try to squash it back down.
I’ve trawled my iTunes list so many times, considered sending him a song and picked more than a
dozen, ranging from deep and meaningful, to witty, then angry. I discarded them all, knowing I should
leave him alone to simmer, sulk through whatever is wrong with him. This is sheer agony, slow torture.
But I have my pride, and he’s bruised it.
Pounded the crap out of it, more likes.
* * *
“Are you sure?” Leila is pouting at me and I give her a quick squeeze, she cuddles me back. It’s like
being hugged by a child; she’s so small, and cute, and adorable. That tug in my chest at leaving her,
but I can’t stay here any longer.
“Yes, I think I just need to head home.” I sigh. I’ll genuinely miss her. She’s the friend I never knew I
needed. Infectious and sweet. Like Jake, she has a way of getting under my skin and pulling a different
Emma out.
“Was it a bad fight?” she throws her doe-eyed expression up at me, petting her lip, which only makes
me chuckle at her.
“What do you mean?” I smile and bat her on the head playfully, trying to play it cool. She moves herself
to perch on the rail of the boat as we’re standing on deck, watching the early morning water.
“You and Jake? Butthead is not answering calls, so I can hardly ask him.” She’s blinking at me
innocently, not fooled at all.
“I told you, he had to go leave for business, I wasn’t needed so he left me here.” I lie expertly, PA mask
perfectly in place, despite my wild wavy hair. I reconnected with feeling-less Emma, somewhere along
the past six days.
“I think you had a fight and he’s off sulking … Men sulk! Jake not so much, but he’s still capable.” She
blinks at me.
“There was no fight, we’re not together … I’m his assistant, that’s all.” Betrayed by the warmth in my
face I hope she doesn’t see rising, I turn back to my bag and push my cell inside, to hide the blush. My
luggage is already packed and on deck as I wait for the speed boat to come for me. One of the crew
has gone ashore for supplies and is due back any minute.
“Men only bring assistants on holiday that they’re screwing, Emma, or if they’re in relationships.” Her
tone is serious. Honestly forward, one of her cute qualities.
“I’m not screwing my boss, Leila. We’re just friends.” I’m irritated at how close to a lie that statement
has come; I need to go; I have a plane to catch and still have to get ashore.
“Are you in love with him?” she flashes up at me with fluttering lashes and a wispy half-smile. I blink at
her and swallow hard.
“No, I’m not.”
Am I?
I don’t know how I feel anymore, and I don’t want to examine that possibility.
“I think you are … I think he’s maybe in love with you too.” She pouts sweetly, her eyes wide with
possibility. I shake my head sadly. Well, I know for a fact that’s not true. The fact he’s somewhere,
doing god knows what, to other women, is proof of that.
“Jake doesn’t do love, Leila … He likes things casual.” I point out emptily. A fact I know only too well.
Hasn’t he even admitted it?
“I’ve seen him in love once,” she responds wistfully and looks away from me shadily, as though she’s
let a secret out.
“You have?” I blink hard and my cheeks flush. That stomach lurch of pain at her admission that almost
strangles me.
“Just friends huh?” she watches me with a little smirk on her face. I stay silent and just frown.
“I’ve known Jake since I was seven … Our parents are friends.” She’s avoiding my gaze. I wonder why
she’s never been on his bed list, if he’s known her all that time. She’s adorable and pretty. I look her up
and down and try not to dwell on that tidbit.
“I can’t imagine him being with just one woman.” I shrug, my insides pounding erratically at the way this
is going.
Do I really want to hear this?
“He was very young … I think he was maybe fifteen or sixteen … She was his first real girlfriend … We
don’t get on much.” She glances at me shyly, a wicked look in her eye as though she wants to reveal
more. I don’t want to know; I don’t like this feeling burning inside of me and I want this conversation to
end.
“Leila, I really have to go. Don’t forget I told you to keep my number and we could meet up sometime.” I
kiss her on the forehead affectionately, impulsively Jake like and lift my bag.
“Yes, yes, I love New York. Just try and keep me away, sassy Ems. Give that boy a good talking to
when you get home.” She gushes and kisses my cheek, over excited and energetic, a Leila trait. The
subject change is something she does, flitting from one thing to another in a blink of an eye.
I really am sad to be leaving Leila behind, I never imagined I would let someone in as my friend the
way I’ve let her. Sarah would be shocked at seeing us together these past few days, and I experience a
pang of guilt about it as Sarah’s face lingers in my mind’s eye.
* * *
The plane ride is going to be long so I pull out my laptop, drink my glass of water, and try not to dwell
on the fact I’ve cut my vacation in the sun short, to go home to New York and Sarah’s sleazy boyfriend
in my apartment. I should tell Jake somehow, maybe a text or email, but I don’t want to. If he wanted to
hear from me, he would answer my calls.
I answer some emails briefly, sort some minor issues out for Rosalie. Now she knows I’m back in work
mode I tell her to relieve the temporary stand ins on my return.
I can’t concentrate. I dwell on Leila’s last conversation and find myself pulling up Google images of
Jake in his early teens, trying to see if I can find this mysterious first love. There are so many images of
him with women, it brings a pain to my chest and I can’t look anymore. Can’t bear to see the endless
pictures of him with gorgeous bimbos. I don’t want to see some ethereal looking woman child that he
once fell in love with, I can almost bet that she wasn’t one of the leggy boobs and would stand out a
mile.
It mustn’t have been serious because she no longer exists. He’s never mentioned her. Not once.
Or maybe she is the one that got away and that’s why he never brings her up. Why he never commits
to women.
Way to ruin your mood, Emma.
* * *
My apartment is depressing after living on a luxury yacht for a week and I can smell Marcus in
everything, even the air around the front entrance. It makes me cringe. There’s no one home and I’m
grateful for that; it’s late, Sarah will be at work and Marcus, god knows where. I leave Sarah a note on
the fridge, not to disturb me because I’m jet lagged and head to bed. I just want to lay down and get
lost in a book or movie, anything to keep my head empty and unfocused.
I need to wait until my boss decides to finally show face or contact me, to know what the hell is going
on. I dwell over the fact he might fire me, for the hundredth time, and shrug.
Maybe I’ll quit … With this job on my resumé I’m sure I’ll get another PA job quickly.
Do I want that? I don’t know anymore. It might be for the best now things have gone south.
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