The children’s laughter echoed around the park-like property. Everyone else smiled. Eric looked at Jane, who avoided eye contact. Behind her lenses, her eyes shone like she wanted to cry.
Fuck.
Is this what it would have been like? Eric wondered. Would their baby have been chubby like Luis? Would they have had snowball fights in Central Park next winter? Taught their kid to make snow angels the year after?
The idea pricked his eyes like needles. Eric looked away from the scene. This was the wrong place to be. Couldn’t she see that? They needed time alone. Time together. Time to heal.
Jane wrapped her arms around her waist, like she too was thinking of what had been stolen from her. It was so easy, Eric knew. It happened to him all the time. A taste, a scent, a brief image. Something would bring that violation to the forefront of his mind, and like a knife, it stabbed.
Jane finally looked up to find Eric watching her, and her big, expressive eyes seemed to water even more despite the raucous laughter around them. She knew what he was thinking. She knew the loss he heard in those tinkling shouts. She knew because she heard it too.
But before Eric could approach her, use that connection to build something better, Jane turned away. Eric stopped. He didn’t know what else to do.
“Are we ready to eat?” he asked, unable to take one more of this Norman Rockwell-level moment.
“I think so,” Skylar said. “Shall we?”
Eric just watched Jane. At last, she nodded. His chest sagged with relief. Jane had been subsisting on little more than instant ramen for the last two weeks. Just a few days ago, her doctor had expressed concern that she wasn’t gaining enough back after her ordeal, but she’d batted away his reminders like flies.
And with that, their sad, strange procession continued inside.
18
“Is that all you’re having?” Eric asked, eyeing the wing and spoonful of green beans Jane had taken. It wasn’t exactly a king’s ransom.
“I’m not that hungry,” she mumbled.
“But the doctor said—”
“I said I’m not hungry,” she replied, more sharply this time. “Okay?”
Eric opened his mouth, wanting to argue back, but just turned to his plate without another word. Jane wouldn’t thank him for admonishing her like a child in front of everyone. She had her mother for that, after all. But he wasn’t letting this go. She had to know that.
“Eric, is everything settled now on the board?” Brandon asked from the other side of the table where he was loading his plate with mashed potatoes.
Grateful for the intervention, Eric looked up. “Yeah, seems that way. Especially after the DA dropped the case. I’ve just been sliding back into things since we returned.” He shook his head. “What a clusterfu—” He stopped short, realizing how many children were present. “I mean, what a mess the last month has been.”
“Well, thank God for Matthew Zola,” Skylar said. “I swear, he has saved us more than once. He’s like our little group’s guardian angel.”
“If I didn’t know better, Red, I’d say you have a crush,” Brandon replied affably, though his tone was laced with jealousy.
“He did have a thing for her once,” Jane remarked. “Remember when he kissed you, Sky?”
For that, she received a dirty, green-eyed glare from Skylar as the far end of the table went a little quieter.
“Zola kissed you, Mama?” Jenny piped up. “Daddy, how did you let that happen?”
The glare sharpened. “Don’t pay attention to your auntie Jane,” Skylar said before Brandon could reply. “She’s just poking the bear.”
Jane shrugged. “He’s fun to poke.”
Eric smiled at his chicken thigh. There she was.
“Is it fun when I point out that he had a thing for you too at one point?” Skylar said.
“I’m sorry? When was that?” Eric looked up sharply.
“It was for about half a second. Maybe five or six years ago,” Jane said.
Now she was the one glaring. The sight of it made Eric want to kiss her. But just as soon, that beautiful fury faded.
“That’s not funny, Sky,” Jane murmured. “Or are you forgetting how someone almost got into a fistfight with the man a few months ago?”
“What?” Yu-na piped up. “Who fought with whose fists?”
“Nothing, Eomma,” Jane now avoided the studious looks of all her family members.
“I’m going to need details about that,” Suejean said conspiratorially.
Jane shook her head. “It was just a misunderstanding last Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll say,” Eric muttered. He wasn’t particularly interested in reliving that mortifying episode.
Skylar didn’t even cower, just turned to her husband. “It was a little funny, don’t you think?”
“Poor Zola,” Brandon said, good-natured once again. “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”
Jane sighed. Eric darted another glance at her. Why was she so torn up about Matthew fucking Zola? Why not her own damn marriage?
“Are you guys heading back to New York after lunch?” Suejean broke in diplomatically before anyone else could ask annoying inappropriate questions. “If I could catch a ride to the T-stop, that will take me downtown. I’m supposed to be at Mass Gen later this afternoon.”
“We could just drop you at the hospital on our way back to Logan,” Eric offered. “Right, Jane?”
“Well,” Jane replied, “Since Skylar offered, I think I’m going to stay here for a few more days. Maybe a week or two.”
A sudden quiet descended over the table.
Though his body didn’t appear to move an inch, Eric’s entire posture shifted slightly. “Come again?”
Jane swallowed visibly. Eric’s throat hurt. He knew what she was going to say, but still, he prayed: Don’t say it.
She, however, just pushed her glasses farther up her nose and managed to look at Eric straight-on. Her hazel eyes practically broke him.
“I just decided,” she said. “I think it would be better if I were here to provide the support my mom needs. Skylar and Brandon have great security. I can help her get settled, and then you won’t be bothered by us while you’re fixing everything at work.”
“Jane, you don’t bother me—” Eric started, but Jane shook her head.
Skylar reached for Brandon’s hand and looked very sorry for both of them.
“Jane.” Her name hurt on his tongue. It was the longing that cut so deeply.
Jane looked up again, and for a moment, the clear pain shining through those deep hazels skewered him. “It’s going to be easier this way for a bit,” she said quietly. “I just…Eric, I just need some space.”
“Space from me?” His voice was gutted. Just like his heart. His entire body. No, no, no, this was wrong, so fucking wrong! They had already been ripped apart for weeks, and now she wanted to do it again? What the hell was happening here?
But Jane wouldn’t answer, just stared back down at her plate. The green beans that had only been reduced by two, maybe three. The chicken wing that was missing only a bite. She shuddered, like the idea of food made her feel sick.
Or maybe it’s me, Eric thought. Maybe she’s just sick of me.
In a sudden hurry, Jane stood up. “I’m, um, going to put my things away in the guest room upstairs. “Sky, thanks for lunch.”
And before anyone could respond, she grabbed her plate, deposited it in the kitchen, and practically sprinted out of the room. Eric stared after her for a few seconds before realizing she had nothing to put away. Everything they packed was still in the car. She hadn’t even brought in her purse.
“Eric,” Skylar murmured.
In a sudden flurry of movement, he was up and off. “I’ll, um, be right back.”
He found Jane in one of the guest rooms, pacing back and forth, muttering to herself: “What are you doing? What are you doing?”
“That’s a very good question.”
Ja
ne swung around as Eric strode in, arms crossed over his chest. He stopped by the bureau and slapped his hand on the teak.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked. “What’s with the sudden change of plans?”
“Come on, Eric. This shouldn’t be a surprise. I did bring that giant suitcase.”
“I had really hoped that was only a precaution.”
“I—she asked me to stay—I just think I should.”
Eric sighed. “I thought we agreed it would be good for the two of you to have some space.”
“My mother disagrees.”
“Do you?”
“I…” Jane paused. “I don’t really think that matters. Look, you don’t need me up there. And my mother, she needs me here.”
“She does not need you—”
“She does,” Jane insisted. “Just like she needed me in Chicago before I abandoned her there. Just like I left her rotting in that room for two weeks before I was able to find her. She needs me, and I’ll stay with her until I’m completely certain that she doesn’t. And if you don’t like it, you can j-just—”
“Okay,” Eric cut her off just as her lower lip started to tremble. “I get it, all right?”
Fucking hell, the sight of her choking up killed him even more than this ridiculous proposition. He still wasn’t used to her like this, with such intense vulnerability. Had it been the gift he wanted it to be, he’d cherish every one of those tears. But he knew she was only breaking like this because she wasn’t strong enough to put up her guard. Not because she actually wanted anyone to see it.
And for that, he was having a hard time forgiving himself.
Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He crossed the room in three long steps, pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders. Jane stood stiffly, refusing to melt into him the way he desperately wanted. Needed. So they were both careful, static, even though they were touching. But just barely.
She needed comfort, obviously. But this wasn’t doing it. Maybe it was him.
After several long minutes, Eric stepped back at last, rubbing his big hands together for a moment before shoving them into the pockets of his jacket. There was nothing more to do.
“I do have to get back,” he said lamely. “The plane is on standby at Logan. There’s another board meeting in the morning. What if you came with me, and then we came right back…”
He didn’t even finish. The regret on her face told him exactly what she thought about that idea.
Eric sighed. “I guess…I guess I’ll just go, then.”
Jane nodded, took another step back, and examined her hands. “Oh-okay.”
“Will you let me know when you’re coming back?”
Eric willed her to meet his gaze. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t? Did it even matter?
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll—I’ll go, then. Jane, I love you.”
Jane nodded. “I love you too.” But the words—his, hers, all of them—were hollow. Whispers of what they should’ve been.
Eric’s shoulders fell as he turned to the door. “I’ll see you,” he said, and after another few beats, walked out.
He met Suejean hurrying up the stairs.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s just me leaving, but if you still need a ride, I can drop you.”
“I’ll be right there,” she said. “I just wanted to talk to her a second, okay?”
Eric nodded, and started to walk downstairs, but stopped. The voices of Jane and her cousin filtered into the hall. And something made him listen. He crept back down the hallway and waited outside the room, out of sight. Unrepentant. She wouldn’t let him in. But he needed to know she was going to be okay without him.
“You’re doing that procedure at Mass General tomorrow, right?” Jane was asking.
“Yeah. My mom is settled into the guesthouse, and so is Imo,” Suejean said, using what Eric gathered was the Korean version of “Auntie” or something similar, despite the fact that Ji-yeon was Yu-na’s cousin, not sister.
“Good,” Jane said. “I think they’ll have a good time. This place is like a bed and breakfast.”
“If it’s any consolation, I really do think you can go back to New York with Eric,” Suejean said. “Eomma has been dying to visit Imo ever since you guys got back. And I’ll be here at least a few days, so I’ll definitely check on them. Although I doubt they’ll do anything but watch K-dramas and gossip.”
Yes, Eric urged her. Say yes. Tell her you’ll come home.
“Thanks,” Jane said. “But I’ll probably stay here for a bit longer. Just in case. Good luck on your surgery.”
And just like that, hope deflated again.
“Thanks.” Suejean paused. “Look, you can tell me if I’m out of line here. But I feel like I have to say something. I noticed that…well, I’ll just say, I’ve had a lot of patients who have gone through…well, something similar. Not with the complications and the violation, of course, although I have definitely had a few. But with termination.”
Eric listened curiously. He knew that Suejean was an OB/GYN, but he hadn’t actually heard her broach the topic of abortion with Jane. Maybe it was to save their mothers from overhearing the conversation.
“The common refrain is to abstain from relations with your partner for at least a month,” she was saying. “In your case, probably four to six weeks.”
Eric nodded to himself. Okay, now this was getting interesting. That was, in fact, what the doctors at Mount Sinai had recommended.
“But I’ll just say this,” Suejean continued. “My patients who complain of painful intercourse post any kind of vaginal expulsion—miscarriage, birth, etc.—well, anecdotally, they are generally also the ones who avoid other kinds of intimacy with their partners.”
Eric’s eyes widened. This was definitely not the conversation he had expected.
“What are you saying?” Jane wondered.
Suejean sighed, now clearly the uncomfortable one. “I’m saying that there are a lot of ways to take care of yourself, and your marriage is one of them. I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about all the types of intimacy that inform our health. Or don’t listen to me at all, since I’m not your doctor.”
Eric held his breath, waiting ardently for Jane’s response. He could practically hear her thoughts now, wrestling with knee-jerk reactions about prioritizing men’s needs over women’s, and shouldn’t her body’s responses be more important than his? But Suejean wasn’t talking about that, obviously, and that wasn’t what Eric was thinking about either. She was simply making the point that the body and the mind influenced each other. That health was something informed by both.
And by both partners. Wasn’t it?
Say you understand, he willed her. Say you’ll come home. Because, goddammit, Lefferts, you need me and I need you!
But Jane’s conscience apparently thought the answers were self-evident.
“Thanks, Suej,” she said finally. Disappointingly.
“Let me know how the next follow-up goes,” Suejean said, referring to Jane’s next check-up with her doctor. “And be nice to Eric when you do go back to New York. He seems…well, I don’t really know him, but he seems like he needs some extra care right now too.”
You can say that again.
Jane sighed, full of guilt. “I’ll try.”
Her despondency made Eric wilt against the wall. Fuck. What was he doing? He didn’t want to guilt her into being with him. Jane deserved to be anywhere she wanted. She deserved to do whatever was necessary to take care of herself. Right?
He turned to walk back down the stairs, ready to leave, but at the bottom he turned. Back and forth, back and forth, unable to decide.
Suejean was pounding down the stairs when she saw him and stopped. Understanding crossed her kind features.
“Don’t give up on her yet,” she said. “She needs you.”
Eric swallowed. And then, full of sudden decision, he turned back up the stairs. “Tony will take
you wherever you need to go,” he said. “I need to take care of a few more things with Jane, okay?”
Suejean nodded supportively. “Of course.”
He walked back up the stairs with dread. What would she say when he arrived again? What would she do?
He knocked on the door. For a moment, he wondered if she was asleep again, giving herself up to her inner pain and heartache.
But then the door opened, and there stood Jane, glasses off, tears tracking down her face, looking for all the world like she was falling apart from the inside out.
“I’m fine, Sky,” she was saying, viciously swiping at the tears. “I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m not,” Eric said.
Like it was yanked on a string, Jane’s head jerked up at the sound. Eric stood there, stuck to his place, feeling like he was about to fall apart too.
“Jane,” he whispered. “Please.”
“Please what?” she asked.
But he couldn’t say. He didn’t know.
19
“Come home.”
Home.
The word rang through Eric’s head like a bell. It was synonymous with Jane, had been for months, maybe even years. It was a word he had struggled with all his life, but he remembered so clearly thinking it the first time they had spoken.
The booth. The napkin. The stupid limerick.
He had been running away from home for more than a year, since his had been stolen from him. And in a dank bar with an impetuous blue-haired siren, he had found it again.
That famous quote from Robert Frost came to mind: Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in. But here she was, putting herself out. Running away. Closing herself off. She was afraid of their home. Maybe she was afraid of him.
“Eric, please.” Her voice, normally so strong, so pointed, was barely above a whisper. She slipped a long finger under her eye to wipe away a bit more of the dewy tears building along her lower lid. Her engagement ring, with the black diamond he’d chosen for the way its sharp beauty reminded him of her, hung slightly loose on her finger. “Please don’t do this.”
The Love Trap (Quicksilver Book 3) Page 18