Page 16

Chapter 16

Gabi

I wake up to Jacob’s arm slung possessively over my waist, his chest pressed warm against my back.

Cracking one eye open, I can see the morning light flooding the room, casting a soft glow on our tangled bodies.

I carefully turn my head slightly, and there he is—out cold.

His full mouth is slightly open, and a tuft of his sandy-brown hair sticking up in a way that’s just begging to be mocked.

Unable to resist, I run my fingers through his sleep-mussed hair, smoothing it down.

He sighs in his sleep, his grip tightening around me without waking.

For a few minutes, I just lie there, savoring the quiet, the warmth, the slow rise and fall of his strong chest.

It's one of those rare, perfect moments where everything feels right.

Eventually, though, his eyelids flutter open, and he squints at me groggily.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I whisper, stroking his hair.

He grins lazily, his voice a sleepy rumble. “If I’m Sleeping Beauty, does that make you Prince Charming?”

“Obviously. Who else would rescue you from your terrible bedhead?”

He chuckles, pulling me closer. “I think I’m more of a Beast to your Belle, to be honest.”

I raise an eyebrow and give his hair another playful ruffle. "Maybe. But you'd better not start singing about having a ‘hairy situation’. I haven't had my caffeine-free tea yet."

"All right, all right. How about I make the tea while you ogle my majestic bedhead?"

"Deal." I smirk, shifting to look him in the eyes. "But only because you're better in the kitchen, and I’m still in awe of your multitasking abilities."

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he stretches, the movement pulling us even closer for a moment. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Prince Charming. Wait until I whip up breakfast.”

Sliding out of bed, he slips back into his boxer briefs and heads to the kitchen. As soon as I slip into an oversized t-shirt and socks, I follow, my cotton-covered feet barely making a sound on the wood floor.

As he fills the kettle, I lean against the counter, thinking of how much of a sight he is to see.

Jacob Walker. My Jacob. Half-naked and ready to make me a meal.

I sigh. “So, what’s on the menu today? Eggs à la Jacob with a side of sarcasm?”

Jacob smirks, tossing a wink over his shoulder. “You wish. Maybe some pancakes with a sprinkle of my charm, if you’re lucky.”

I laugh, watching him move with an easy confidence. “I’m pretty sure last time you attempted pancakes, we ended up with more batter on the ceiling than on our plates. Let’s stick to something simpler. How about toast?”

“Toast? Way to set the bar high, Gabi." He turns to face me, the kettle starting to whistle. “But fine, toast it is. I’ll make it gourmet just for you.”

“Gourmet toast? Now that I have to see."

As he pops the bread into the toaster, he suddenly turns to me with a playful but soft look in his eyes. “You know, for two people that joke around this much about breakfast, we’re kind of like an old married couple already.”

His words catch me off guard, and I blink in surprise. An old married couple? Is that what we’re becoming?

The thought makes my heart skip a beat—not in a bad way, but in a way that I didn’t expect this early in the morning.

The smile on my face falters, leaving me staring at him in silence, the toaster's soft hum filling the gap left by my sudden quiet.

"An old married couple, huh? You sure you're not jumping the gun, Jacob? We're supposed to be fooling everyone else, not fooling ourselves." I try to laugh it off, pretending his words don’t make my pulse race.

He doesn’t laugh.

Instead, he turns back to the toaster, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. The silence stretches unbearably, making me wish I had said something less dismissive.

“Maybe I’m not fooling myself, Gabi,” he says quietly, his voice thicker than usual.

The toast pops up, but he doesn't reach for it immediately.

“This...this feels real to me. More than just a charade for everyone else’s sake. What if I want this to be more?”

My stomach twists. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation over burnt toast. “Jacob, we agreed—”

“Yeah, I know what we agreed on.” He finally takes the toast out, but it’s more a distraction than a task. “But things change. Feelings change. Haven’t you felt it too? Or am I just imagining it?”

He meets my gaze, his eyes searching mine for an answer I'm scared to give.

I can’t deny it, not when he's looking at me with such intensity. But admitting it would mean things between us would change in ways I'm not sure we're ready for.

“I-I don't know." My heart pounds in my chest as we watch each other. "Maybe...maybe we should see this 'relationship' through, and then see what happens."

His face falls, disappointment clear in his eyes. I hate myself for being the cause of it.

"Right." He turns back to the toast, buttering each piece. "Got it. Let's just stick to playing pretend for now, then."

"Right."

I reach for a piece of toast and take a bite, but the swallow goes down hard.

The rest of breakfast is eaten in silence, the light-hearted banter from earlier now replaced with a heavy tension neither of us knows how to break.

I take a deep breath, ready to say something—anything—to break this unbearable silence.

Just as the words form in my mind, Jacob's phone buzzes loudly from the bedroom. He stands up abruptly and heads to grab it, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a half-eaten piece of toast that now feels like lead in my stomach.

Returning, his eyes are fixated on the screen, fingers moving as he checks the message. I bite the inside of my cheek, debating whether to ask who it is.

Curiosity wins out.

"Who is it?" I ask.

He looks up at me, a glimmer of excitement momentarily breaking the tension between us.

"It's Gio," he says, placing the phone on the counter. "Seattle won their series. We'll play them next for the Western Conference finals. It's the last playoff series before the cup series."

For a second, the weight of our previous conversation lifts. The news is huge. The tension in the room shifts slightly, making space for a spark of shared enthusiasm. But as I meet Jacob's eyes again, the unspoken words between us loom large, casting a shadow over his excitement.

"I guess you’d better start packing, then," I say.

"Guess so." Jacob rounds the counter and kisses me on the forehead. "We'll talk about everything later, okay?"

I nod, and he walks back into the bedroom, leaving me alone in the kitchen once again.

I stare down at my plate, no longer feeling hungry. Instead, a knot of anxiety has formed in my stomach, making me feel nauseous.

Of course the nausea could be from the baby, but for the first time in a long time, I don't think it is.

I was prepared to improve my PR job with a fake relationship with Jacob Walker. I wasn't prepared to jeopardize it because of him.

Our faux engagement has been hard enough to maintain in the eye of the public, but adding a real relationship into the mix would be nearly impossible. Not to mention how messy things could get when my brother finds out the baby is his best friend’s.

I grab another piece of toast, grateful that Jacob going to Seattle might mean I have the time to think about what I want.

For me. For the baby. For my career.

For a life that’s quickly spinning out of control.