Disillusioned (Swept Away 2)

“Hmmm.” I leaned back. “Yeah, that doesn’t make sense, if she was as obsessed with him as you thought. If she loved him so much, you would think she’d try any excuse to win him back. And a baby is a huge excuse.”

“Exactly.” Jakob turned toward me and frowned. “Her hatred of my father was real. Her heartbreak was real. The pain she carried around with her was real. I always blamed that heartbreak and pain on the fact that your parents had ruined her relationship with my dad. If only your parents had backed out of their lives. I felt like they ruined everything. First your dad convinced my dad not to marry my mom and then your mom slept with my dad. In a way, I was glad she cheated on your dad because I felt like it was revenge for your dad convincing my dad my mom wasn’t good enough. But something has been bothering me. Something doesn’t really add up, you know. My mom hated your parents so much, and yet there was always guilt in her eyes when she talked about how she’d been wronged. I never thought about that before. Maybe because I was so focused on my memories of her talking about your mom and your dad ruining her life. And maybe they did have something to do with the pain she carried around. But maybe it was what she did after her relationship with my dad that caused her the real heartbreak. Maybe that was the deep shame and sorrow she carried around with her, until she just couldn’t anymore. Maybe that was why she sometimes dropped to her knees and sobbed and prayed for forgiveness.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” My face turned white as I realized the gravity of the situation we were in.

“I think my mother was responsible for your mother’s car crash, Bianca.” He nodded. “I think my mother killed your mom.”

Chapter Twelve

Jakob’s words resonated in my brain as I lay in bed the next morning. The smell of coffee woke me from sleep, and I gradually stretched my arms out, tiredness still in my body. I opened my eyes slowly and turned to look at Jakob, but he was no longer in the bed with me.

“He’s making coffee, duh,” I reprimanded myself as I continued to stretch out in his bed. I stared around his room, taking in his style, and smiled at his taste. The paintings on the walls reminded me of Picasso, and stacks of books were on the dresser and bedside table. I loved that the apartment was lived in and not immaculate. It made Jakob so much more relatable. I jumped out of the bed and walked over to the painting that was hanging to the right of his dresser to study it a bit better.

“It’s a Picasso.” His deep voice sounded behind me as I studied the vibrant colors of the painting.

“No way.” I turned to him with a smile and he handed me a cup of coffee.

“Way.” He smiled back at me. My heart melted slightly as his eyes crinkled with emotion as he took in my appearance. “Nice to see you as I remember you, for once.”

“What does that mean?” I sipped on the black coffee and made a face.

He burst out laughing and looked at the coffee. “I’m guessing you want milk and sugar?”

“Yes, please.” I nodded and followed him out of the bedroom. “What did you mean, by the way? About me looking as you remembered.”

“Well, your bedhead and sleepy face with no makeup,” he explained sheepishly.

I groaned. “Oh, you mean my scruffy look?”

“I mean your adorable look.” He stopped and patted my ass as I walked past him.

“I don’t know too many people that think scruffy is adorable.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop myself from grinning.

“How did you sleep?” he asked tenderly as he passed me a carton of milk and a bowl filled with sugar cubes.

“Good, thank you.” I nodded awkwardly. I had slept soundly, but now I felt uneasy. Not because I was worried about what he might do to me. I was worried about what we might find out and how that would affect us. I felt selfish for thinking it, but a part of me wanted to forget the investigation and just be with Jakob like a normal girlfriend—but we were both in way too deep now.

“I wish I could go back.” He sighed and opened the fridge. “Want some toast?”

“Sure.” I nodded as he pulled some slices of bread out and put them in a bright red toaster.

“I wish I could meet you under usual circumstances and ignore the notes.” He pulled some plates out of a cupboard.

“Why?”

“So everything wouldn’t be so complicated. So we could be a regular couple and our only issue would be where we wanted to go to dinner on a Friday night.”

“I doubt that would be our only issue.” I laughed, then paused as my heart skipped a beat. “And what do you mean ‘a regular couple’?”

“I mean normal, no kidnapping issues, no parental murders, no I-kissed-your-brother issues.”

“Jakob.” I glared at him.

He held his hands up. “Sorry.” He made a face. “I know I need to get over that.”

“What do you mean by ‘normal’ couple?”

He took the toast out of the toaster and buttered it. “Like I said, a couple that doesn’t—”

“But we’re not a couple. We’re not together.”

“Oh? Since when?” He frowned and handed me a plate.

“What do you mean ‘since when’?” I mumbled, confused as hell. Had I been asleep for months or something? Was this some weird Sleeping Beauty moment I’d missed or something?