Chapter 33

The winter came. It was the last weekend before Christmas, so Brooke

decided to have her own private celebration with Jack. Instead of picking her up at the airport, she asked him to be at the apartment at 7:00 pm sharp. She had Friday off at work, so she could fly Thursday night to L.A.

On Friday she got up really early and went shopping to get all the groceries she needed to cook the fancy dinner she had in mind. She hadn't mentioned to him she could cook and she wanted to impress him.

She had the apartment beautifully decorated, mistletoes included, so she'd have more excuses to make out with Jack. Of course she had placed a nice tree. She had been cooking the whole day, but she wasn't tired. She felt thrilled.

Jack had no idea of this feast, but he kind of guessed it when Brooke asked him to wear "something nice". When he arrived to the apartment, it looked like a TV commercial. Everything was perfect and it smelled delicious.

He sneaked into the kitchen to look in the stove when Brooke yelled from the bedroom: – Don't stick your fingers in the food, baby. I'll be right there.

How she knew? He thought, a smile on his face.

Then Brooke came out of the bedroom and saw Jack still trying to figure out what was inside the casseroles. He took her breath away. He was wearing a navy suit, a white shirt and a beautiful lime-green tie. He looked absolutely gorgeous. Dark colors made him look even taller. When he sensed her presence he turned to meet her eyes. She was in a beautiful short, halter chocolate dress. Its trapeze-form top didn't show her cleavage, but when he approached and embraced her, he saw it completely revealed her back to the waist. – Wow… look at you. –he said, kissing her softly.

– Hi sweetie. –she replied, kissing him back.

– So, what's the occasion?

– Us. This is our own little Christmas… –she said.

– I knew it… –he affirmed with a smug face.

– You want some wine? –she asked, moving aside and walking to the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses.

– Sure. What we're having for dinner? –he asked curious as he followed her.

– You're about to see. Why don't you go to the dining room, take care of the wine and I bring the food to the table, okay?

– Why? You don't want me to see the wrappings? –he said smiling behind her.

Brooke stiffened and her jaw dropped in indignation. She turned to look at him. – You think I ordered take outs?

Now Jack was in trouble. – Um… I don't know, did you?

– Of course not! Now you're not having anything. –she said, turning her back on him.

He giggled. – I'm kidding. Come on, at least let me have some dessert. Maybe a little chocolate? –he said playfully referring to her dress, embracing her waist and kissing her shoulders.

– Just be a good boy and we'll see… –she replied, shivering.

He let her go and went to the dining room. The table was delicately set. He could see in the elegant napkins, the glasses, the plates, it was the work of the great taste of his "fashion girl". – I didn't know I had this dinnerware… –he said loud.

– You didn't. I just got it for tonight.

– You want red or white?

– White, please.

Jack poured the glasses and went back to the kitchen. – Here. –he gave Brooke her glass.

– Honey, just wait for me at the table! Is it so hard to just sit there? –she said high pitched and pushing him back.

– I'm just getting you a drink! Helping wouldn't hurt, though.

– I don't need any help, everything's ready, so go.

– Okay, okay. –he turned around, went to the dining room and sat at the head of the table, where Brooke placed his service.

He looked around and noticed how the apartment screamed Brooke's name in every corner. It never looked so cozy and alive. Little by little she had given her personal touch to the place with pictures, plants, vases, she had even changed the drapes. It almost felt like home. No, it felt better than home, he thought. The only thing missing was his kids.

His thoughts were cut by Brooke walking in with a dinner cart full of fancy plates with delicious dishes, which smelled really good. He opened his eyes wide and smiled, amazed.

– Okay, this is it. –she said smiling. – Dinner's ready.

– Hey… What's all these?

– Well, for starters we're having this creamy, cheesy pasta, a traditional Julians' recipe, then we're having baked pork loin with Bourbon brown-sugar glaze, lettuce salad with avocado dressing as side plate… um… we also have mashed potatoes and finally chocolate mousse torte for dessert. –she recited excited, glint in her eyes, as she placed each dish on the table.

Jack was stunned. – Where did you get all these?

Brooke raised an eyebrow and threw him a warning look. – I made it.

– What you mean you made it? You're saying you cooked all this food?

– I'm not saying. I cooked all of it.

– Really? –he asked in disbelief.

Brooke frowned. – Okay sweetie, one more insinuation about how unlikely you find that I can cook, and I'm going to kick your ass, literally. ­–she warned.

­– No! It's not that I find it unlikely, it just surprises me, that's all. You never told me… –he replied giggling, his hands up in sign of defense.

– Well, I do. And I like it so much! I never get to cook back home. My friends always want to have dinner out and at my parents' I only get to help my mom.

– Is that a fact? And how come you can cook?

– My mom's French. Cooking is like mandatory for all women in the family, on her side at least. I've been helping her in the kitchen since I was a little girl. –she explained smiling.

– That's sweet… So, your mom's French huh? You speak French?

– Oui. –she replied with a mischievous smile.

– Say something, in French.

– Oh come on, that's lame. –she said frowning.

– It's not lame, it's hot. Please… –he begged, puppy eyes included.

She threw a short laugh. – Okay, let me see… –she looked at him and her pupils dilated. She thought of saying the "L" word right there. She felt it popping out of her mouth, but she thought twice and stifled it. – Tu est l'homme plus merveilleux du monde. ­–she said in a perfect French accent.

He wasn't quite sure of what that meant, but it sounded hell sexy. – What does that mean?

– I'm not telling you.

He raised an eyebrow. – If you don't tell me, then you won't get any dessert. –he affirmed with an impish look.

She laughed. – Okay, it means "You're the most wonderful man in the world". –she answered looking down, bashfully.

He stood up and cupped her face. – No. I'm the luckiest man in the world, because I have you. –he affirmed, and then kissed her deeply. She smiled as she responded to the kiss. Soon it deepened and the room warmed up.

She broke it when he tried to slip his hands under her skirt. – Okay baby, let's better eat. We still have a long night ahead and it'll take forever to finish this food.

– Okay, then. –he replied like a scolded boy.

They started eating and he was really delighted with all the dishes. He just couldn't believe how tasty everything was. Brooke was a very good cook indeed. During the dinner, he told her he had already read everything she'd written, which really thrilled her. He told her he found really interesting all of her pieces, but the Pulitzer winner was his favorite. He said it was an absolute statement of the person she was.

Later on he asked her how it was to win such an important prize, and she narrated all the experience. He was listening stunned, feeling really proud as he pictured her receiving the award. Then she told her the best moment of all was to see her parents' and Terry's look at the very second she was on the stand, the happiest moment of her life so far. Seeing the pride and joy in their family's eyes had been priceless, she said.

As the dessert came, they were laughing and having a great time. Jack just couldn't take another bite, neither did Brooke. They moved to the living room and continued with their chat. Soon they started making out, but again Brooke interrupted.

– I have a surprise for you. –she said, breaking the kiss.

– Oh really? What is it? –he asked thrilled.

– Just wait here. –then she walked to the bedroom and he heard her opening the closet. Almost immediately he heard a thud and Brooke grumbling and mumbling. –Are you okay? –he asked concerned as he walked the corridor to the bedroom.

– I'm fine! I'm fine! I'm coming! –she yelled, making him stop.

He waited in the corridor and then came Brooke dragging a huge, large box, wrapped in Christmas paper with a big red bow. –What the hell is that? –he asked astonished, giggling.

– It's your Christmas present. Man! This is so fucking heavy! I don't know how you people go around carrying these! –she complaint, panting.

Jack burst out laughing. – Let me help you, then.

– Thank you! –she said laughing, not annoyed anymore.

They went to the living room again. Brooke asked Jack to sit on the floor at the foot of the tree. – Well, now open it. –she demanded.

– Finally! –he replied, tearing the wrapping apart, eager to open the present.

Within a minute Jack had opened the box. It contained a brand new set of golf clubs, the finest there were. – Oh Brooke! This is amazing! It's too much! –he said excited and stunned at the same time. – How did you know I needed these?

Brooke smiled thrilled. – Well, you're a golfer, I guess golfers always need new clubs, right? You like them?

– Of course I like them! They're awesome, thank you honey! –he replied with a huge smile. Then he gave her a smug look.

– What? –asked Brooke curious.

– You think I don't have a present for you, right? –then he stood up and went to the kitchen, whilst Brooke followed him with her sight, her eyes full of glint, a childish smile on her lips.

– You do? –she asked giggling.

– You bet I do. –he raised his arm and took from the top of the kitchen cabinets a little box, wrapped in bright red paper. His hiding place was high enough for Brooke to miss it.

– It was there all the time? –she asked jaw-dropped in disbelief.

– No, I put it there when I arrived. –he replied as he joined her on the floor again. – Here… I hope you like it…

As he handed her the present, Brooke felt her heart speed up and thought she was going to pass out. She knew that red wrapping well. Could it be? No, no, easy girl, that box's too big for a ring, she thought, her hands shaking. Yet she knew it had to be a jewel. Her eyes opened wider as she opened the exquisite box. – Oh my God, Jack! This is beautiful. –she said as she saw what it was. It was a white gold Cartier Love Bracelet. As a fashion editor, she knew all about it: it came with a tiny screwdriver, which worked as a key, and once you put it on, only the person with that key could release you from it. But the most important thing there was to know about that bracelet was it was a symbol of committed love. She was speechless.

Jack was looking at her delighted. He knew he had made his point when he saw she was out of words. – Well, you've got to think twice before you wear it, because I'm keeping the key and once you put it on, you won't be able to take it out, unless you ask me… which I hope you don't. –he said looking deeply at her.

– Of course I want to wear it. –she said immediately, giving him a longing look.

As Jack placed the bracelet on her right wrist, Brooke stared at him, positive he was going to say it, the words she had been waiting so long for him to say.

Jack felt her eyes fixated on him. – There you go. –he said when he was done fastening the bracelet, and then placed the key in the pocket of his jacket. When he met her eyes again he knew what she was waiting for. He looked in her eyes and saw what he already knew. Brooke loved him truly, madly, deeply, but above all, unconditionally. She loved him just the way he was.

Then it hit him for the first time since he first met her. I think I love you, he thought, surprised. Yet for some reason, he wasn't able to just say it.

When the silence became unbearable, Brooke looked away, disappointed. She spoke to break the awkward moment. – Thank you Jack, it's lovely. –she said looking at her wrist, playing with the bracelet.

– It's the least you deserve. –he assured, touching softly her cheek.

Brooke smiled at him and then reached for him to hold her. So he did. As they embraced, she kept repeating in her mind it didn't matter if he didn't say "I love you". He just said it, she thought, in his own particular way. She could feel it not only in the way he was hugging her at that very moment, but in every time he touched her, every time he looked at her or even called her name. She knew Jack loved her too. They broke the embrace and sought for each other's eyes.

– Merry Christmas baby. –she said softly.

– Merry Christmas to you. –he replied, caressing her hair.

Then he kissed her and soon their bodies were pleading for more. He got up and carried her to the bedroom, where they made sweet love over and over again.

That night, for the first time, Jack stayed over, which made Brooke extremely happy, 'cause she interpreted it as another sign of his feelings for her.

The next morning Brooke woke up in Jack's arms. She never felt happier in her life. He was deeply asleep, breathing placidly on her skin, his face buried in the back of her neck, covered by her hair. He was holding her from the waist, her back against his chest.

She was thinking of how perfect it would be to wake up like that every single day, when suddenly Jack let go off her.

– Baby, are you awake? –she asked feebly, but then noticed he was still asleep, now face up. She stared at him and realized he must've been having a nightmare. He was mumbling and then started shaking. She was about to wake him up when clear words came out of his mouth. She froze when she heard them.

A little less than an hour later, Jack opened his eyes. Brooke wasn't on the bed, which kind of bothered him. He wanted to be the first to awake to watch her sleep and see what it felt like to wake up beside her. The smell of pancakes called his attention. She should've been cooking him a delicious breakfast, he thought with a smile. He put on his boxers and a T-shirt and went to the kitchen to meet her.

– Why did you leave the bed? –he asked as he embraced her from behind and kissed her head.

– Good morning baby. I… was hungry. –she replied flatly.

But Jack didn't notice she was upset. He sat at the kitchen table and grabbed the newspaper, nonchalant. – So what we're having? –he asked whilst scanning the sports section.

– Pancakes. And we still have some food from last night. –she said. – What did you dream last night? –she asked frankly, still making the pancakes.

Jack frowned at the question, trying to remember. – Um… I don't remember, nothing I guess. –he retorted casual.

Brooke bit her lip. – You talk in your sleep. –she announced.

Jack was absorbed in the football scores. – You've found out already? –he asked.

– So you know. –she said raising an eyebrow. – Of course you know. –she answered to herself.

– What did I say?

– Uh… well, I can't quite tell. Seemed like a nightmare. You were kind of mumbling… All I could get was "Don't Juliet, don't". –she affirmed.

The second he heard that, he got tense. He tried to conceal and kept reading the paper, silent. But Brooke turned around and stood in front of him. – So, who's Juliet? –she asked determined.

­– I have no idea. –he replied, not looking at her.

She couldn't take it anymore. – Jack, I know about the plane crash. –she confessed.

He stiffened and looked up to meet her eyes. – You do? –he asked back with a stern look. He was evidently upset with that statement. Now he was the one waiting for an explanation.

­Brooke got the message. – Yes… I knew since I first met you... When you were rescued I was in college and you were like the "it" thing. I'm a journalist, so I found it fascinating. I read everything about it. ­­–she said.

– Then you know who Juliet is. –she snapped giving her a burning gaze. Then he stood up and left the kitchen. He was terribly annoyed. He felt exposed.

Brooke knew he was pissed, but this time she wouldn't let him shut off. She walked behind him. – No Jack, actually I don't. I'm not planning on sticking to some Google version of your life. –she assured, grabbing his arm to turn him around.

Jack kept silent, trying not to lose his temper. He rubbed his eyes. Brooke went on. – I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I was waiting for you to bring it out, but you just don't. I think it's important that we talk about it. –she assured, gripping his shoulders.

– There's nothing to talk about. –he snapped, taking her hands off of him and walking to the bedroom.

Now Brooke was pissed, but she tried to be patient. – Jack, I know it must be difficult for you to talk about it, and I don't mean to upset you. But I just can't keep pretending that is not there. You told me I could ask you anything I wanted to know about you, so this is the time. I need you to trust me. –she demanded.

Jack was sitting at the edge of the bed, facing the window. He remained silent for a couple of minutes, thinking. He took a deep breath. – Listen… every thing you know about that plane crash, about that island… everything you might have read, the wildest, craziest things… it all happened, Brooke. Even after all these years, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in panic, thinking I'm still there… I don't want that nightmare to haunt me anymore. It has nothing to do with who I am now. I keep trying every day to leave it behind. That's why I don't talk about it. And I'd like to keep it that way, if that's okay with you. –he said determined, looking frontally to Brooke, who now was sitting beside him.

Brooke ran out of words. After a couple of minutes, she nodded. Yes, he was entitled to leave that tragedy behind, she thought. – Okay baby. I didn't mean to be inconvenient. –she said, her eyes longing for him to lighten up.

Jack's look softened. – I know. Let's just forget about it, okay? –he asked, fed up.

With that, she grabbed his hand and took him to the kitchen. There they had breakfast in peace. Soon Jack forgot about the little situation they had before and enjoyed his pancakes. He couldn't be mad at Brooke.

They kept talking about irrelevant things. When noon came, Jack took a shower and got dressed. He had to check on his kids. As always, he didn't say a word about it. He just told Brooke he "needed to go home" and he promised he'd be back to take her out and go to the movies. She nodded, silent.

After she saw him driving away from the window, she had contradictory feelings. She felt content for the night before, for the bracelet and what it meant, and for how things were going between them.

But she wasn't totally satisfied with the plane crash issue. Yes, she knew he was right about being entitled to leave it behind, to not speak about it. But his reluctance to even mention it, along with other things like his family, his wife, his kids, made her uneasy. Sometimes it felt like he was keeping her out of his life. Other times she felt he didn't trust her enough. Others she believed he was keeping secrets from her. Whatever of those possibilities it was, it concerned her.

She wanted to move forward with the relationship. It was about time, she thought. She remembered Ilana's statement about her not speaking her mind. Ilana was right, but this time she would say it, she would ask everything she wanted to know. She would tell him what she wanted. It's time… she thought. She wanted to go all the way.