Chapter 21
I’m almost to the subway when Jacob’s voice reverberates down the block from somewhere behind me, calling my name. I pick up my pace, pretending I don’t hear him. I can’t take Jacob seeing me with my swollen nose and mascara dripping down my face, on top of everything else. But he says my name again, only a couple of feet away now, and his footsteps thump on the pavement. “Sadie, wait.”
“What is it, Jacob?” I swipe at my wet cheeks with the palm of my hand.
He brushes past me, putting a gentle hand on my arm. “Hey.”
Stumbling to a stop, I stare over his shoulder. “Did you need something?”
Jacob shifts his body in the direction of my gaze until he appears in my line of vision. “I came to see if you’re okay, but I guess it’s pretty obvious that you’re not.”
“I’m fine. I just want to go home.” Alone. Pulling my hand into the sleeve of my jacket, I use it to swipe at my eyes.
Jacob cocks his head, looking me over, and then turns to a nearby hot dog vendor. He asks for a bottle of water and a handful of napkins, leaving a few dollars in return. Shifting the bottle of water so it’s under one arm, he hands me the napkins. When I’ve mopped up most of the tears and mascara, he opens the water and holds it out to me. “I’m going the same direction. Let me ride with you and make sure you get there okay.”
Behind his glasses, Jacob’s eyes are bittersweet chocolate, and all my desire to be alone melts away. I nod, wiping my cheeks one last time. “Thanks.”
We walk to the train without talking. I don’t want to discuss my feelings or rehash our disastrous dinner, so I appreciate that Jacob doesn’t always need to fill the silence.
When we get off the train at our stop in Williamsburg, the crowd surges onto the subway platform. Jacob tucks my hand into the crook of his arm, so we stay together. When we’re out of the crush, I should let go, but I don’t. There’s something comforting about holding on to this solid man, something comforting about his warm scent that calls to mind his peaceful, quiet apartment in the days when I lived there during my Very Bad Year. Jacob glances at my hand on his arm and keeps walking.
Once we’re out on the street, it’s a short walk to my building. After I fish my key out of my purse, I look up at Jacob. “So, I don’t know if I mentioned that there’s cake in here. If somebody doesn’t help me, there’s a very good chance I’ll eat it all by myself.”
Jacob’s lips curve into a smile. “You had me at chocolate raspberry.”
Five minutes later, Jacob is settled on my couch with a plate of flourless chocolate cake and a side of macarons. I sit on the bed across from him and take a bite of my own piece. It’s perfect—a dense, rich layer of fudge with tart raspberry puree running through the center. “Hmmm. Not bad.”
“Are you kidding?” he says. “It’s delicious, as usual. I think I’ve gained ten pounds since you started baking at Higher Grounds.” He pats his flat stomach for emphasis.
“You have not. Besides, you don’t even eat that much. Mrs. Kaminski eats her own scone and then pilfers yours when she thinks nobody’s watching.” I know he sees her and pretends he doesn’t.
We chat for a bit about Mrs. Kaminski and everyone at Higher Grounds. José Luis ended up sketching me in the cake-dress after all, except this time, Gio is in the picture, weaving around my legs. I had it framed, and now it hangs next to the bed. Jacob pulls his phone from his pocket to show me a sketch José Luis drew of him wearing a suit made of piano keys. “I hung it in my music studio.”
“It looks just like you.”
Jacob swipes through the photos to show me one more. “Last week when you were at Xavier’s, José Luis sketched Mrs. Kaminski doing a Gene Kelly Singin’ in the Rain–style dance with her cane.” He flashes me a grin that’s layered with affection. “She said it was the onions in her sandwich, but I honestly think she teared up.”
I smile back at him, and it occurs to me that I felt alone when I left my parents back at the restaurant, but I’m not. I’ve built myself this quirky little family at Higher Grounds, and they mean a lot to me. I don’t know how I didn’t see them for who they really are during my Very Bad Year. My gaze drifts to Jacob. I don’t know how I didn’t see him, either.
I hop up off the bed. “Do you want more cake?”
His smile says he does. I refill his plate and sit back on the bed. “Thanks for this, Jacob.”
“For what? Coming over and eating all your cake?”
I laugh. “Yes, actually. Thanks for coming over and eating all my cake. And…” I lift a shoulder. “Thanks for cheering me up. I felt pretty awful earlier, and now… I don’t.”
“Seriously, your parents really missed out on this.” He lifts his plate. “And I’m sorry they’re so wrapped up in their idea of what success looks like that they can’t see how talented you are.”
The back of my throat feels like raw sugar, and my eyes sting. I look away and grasp for a subject change because if I don’t, I’ll start crying again. “So, what about your parents? They’re attorneys, right?”
He nods. “Yep. Human rights.”
“How do they feel about you being a musician? Didn’t they want you to go to law school or something?”
“Well…” Jacob shrugs, his face turning thoughtful. “It probably won’t come as a surprise to you that I was a really shy kid.”
“Not a huge surprise, no.”
“My parents are the complete opposite. They’ve never been afraid to stand up for what they believe, to challenge the system, or defend someone who’s powerless. It’s why they’re so good at what they do.” He cocks his head and gazes across the space between us. “You kind of remind me of them, actually.”
“Me?” Jacob’s parents sound amazing, while I’m pretty much a mess.
“When we were kids, you were always standing up to bullies and looking out for the quiet, shy, weird kids.” He gives me a self-deprecating smile. “Like me and Owen.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I remember Jacob telling me this once before, on New Year’s Eve during my Very Bad Year. In school, I had a pretty easy time of it. Socially, anyway. But my brother was the classic nerd: supersmart and really into computers, he wore glasses like Jacob, and although he’s over six feet now, he didn’t hit a growth spurt until senior year. So, I got used to defending him. When I discovered that bullies will back down if you stand up to them, I decided to use my powers for good and help out other vulnerable kids on the playground, too.
But that was a long time ago.
“So, your parents didn’t care if you became a lawyer because you were shy?”
“Sort of. When I was about five they sent me to a child psychologist because they were worried I wasn’t making any friends. She was trained as a music therapist and had all these instruments in her office. I got really into them, and around the same time, you guys moved to town and the teacher sat Owen at my table. He was the same kind of weird as me, and well… you know the rest.”