Page 93 of Confessions of a Smutty Romance Author

“What kind of future?” he asked, the limited light dancing in his eyes.

My cheeks grew hot. I so wasn’t used to discussing this kind of thing. “You know, the mushy gushy kind?”

He laughed. “Have you named our future children yet?”

I shook my head. “I don't really see myself as a mom,” I admitted.

His eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean? You don’t think about the future like that?”

I shivered, pulling the blanket more tightly around me. “I mean, being a kid wasn't exactly easy for me, and I wouldn't want to screw up another human being.”

He gave me a confused look. “Why would you screw them up?”

I raised my eyebrows in return. Was he being serious? “It's not like I have a million great examples to look to.”

“You can always learn though,” he said with all the confidence in the world. “There are classes and podcasts, and you know my parents are great.”

“I'm supposed to learn how to be my best self with the crying baby on my hip? Can you really picture me with child, listening to podcasts about how to not be a fucked-up human being?” It was laughable if it wasn’t so damn sad.

“You're not giving yourself enough credit.”

I let out a sigh, sandwiching together more crackers and cheese and meat. “Maybe not, but I've had a lot of time to think about whether I want to be a parent. And I like my life. I like working when I feel like it and going out with friends when I feel like it. Ilikebeing able to focus on me and becoming the kind of person I could have been if I hadn't grown up the way that I did.”

“But what about later?” he asked. “What about when you're older?”

“What about it? It’s not fair to put the weight of your retirement on children who didn’t ask to be here, and I'm sure there will be friends to make in the nursing home.”

He shook his head slowly. “I... I always pictured myself being a father.”

He said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear him, but the second his words registered, my chest constructed. This was the deal-breaker. The thing that wasn't good enough about me for him. And it made me want to get up and run as far away as I could. Even though the last time I ran was probably in an elementary school gym class. I didn't want to take away from him what he so desperately desired. But I also had to wonder why wasn't I enough? Why weren’t we enough? Wasn’t love supposed to conquer all?

“Hey,” he said gently, lowering his head to meet my eyes. “What are you thinking in there?”

I quickly looked away, bracing myself for the worst. “I'm not going to change my mind about this, Jonas.”

“But you changed your mind about relationships. You’re dating me,” he said. “You told me you loved me.”

“I can't imagine changing my mind about putting a whole extra person in my control or even just putting my body through childbirth. I already have mental health issues. What happens when I have PPD so bad I can’t get out of bed? And what happens if we are one of those fifty percent of people who divorce? We’ll be shuttling a child back and forth who never asked to be here. Your parents would hate me, and I’d really be on my own on top of learning how to be a good parent. It doesn't make sense to me. It's not what I want, even under the best of circumstances. That's why I got an IUD that lasts seven years, and when the seven years is over, I’m probably just going to go with an even more permanent option.”

“More permanent than seven years?”

“I want to get my tubes tied,” I said.

He blinked, stunned. I hated that he looked that way, like he couldn’t see where I was coming from. All he said was, “You're right. It's probably too soon to talk about this.” He put the lid back on the meat and cheese tray and scooted closer to me.

But I scooted away. I could feel our relationship slipping away before it even began.

“Mara,” he said, looking hurt. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“You did,” I replied.

“Can’t we move past it? We’ve only been official for a day.”

“It doesn’t matter. I now know that for us to continue our relationship, one of us isn’t getting what we want.”

We were quiet for a long moment as the waves continued lapping over the shore, oblivious to the nerves and the pain racing through my heart.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he said.

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