Page 84 of Falling Slowly
She stared at me like I’d summoned a spirit out of the toilet bowl. “What? How?”
“Don’t worry about it. But now you don’t have to leave, right? We’re not in a hurry.” I took a tentative step closer, grasping her damp hands over the washbasin.
I wanted to lose myself in those eyes and experience even an inkling of what we’d shared in the forest. I would have taken ten percent. A few more minutes.
“What about my mom and Celia? They came all the way here.”
I’d already thought of it, and the words rushed out. “Invite them to stay! The cabin is paid for and has enough beds. I’ll clear out and book into somewhere in town. We can take Celia there tomorrow to see that Fall Festival. It looked cool. Do you think she’d like it?”
I thought about the hay bales, cute stalls, and the carousel. Kids loved that stuff, right?
“You’d do that?” She breathed the words in utter disbelief.
She had no idea what I was willing to do. No idea what an idiot I was.
“I’d rather do that than go back to our lives in Denver. Am I the only one?”
She placed her hands on my chest, her lips a breath away from mine. “No.”
Relief flooded my body. Suddenly, she was so close that everything became blurry. All I could think of was that mouth on mine, her spine curving against my arm as I pulled her flush against me. I held her slightly off the floor, making sure she didn’t place any weight on that injured leg, placing kisses down her neck and collarbone, inhaling deeply. “Bess,” I murmured. “Stay with me. Give me time. Let me show you…”
I lost my train of thought as she softly moaned under my touch.
Tears stung deep behind my eyes. I was holding on too tightly, too desperately. I feared hurting her, but at this rate, I was also going to get hurt.
Be cool, Charlie. You’re not like this.
My heart would not listen, and my arms grabbed onto her, holding even tighter.
It wasn’t only the upheaval at work I worried about. I’d seen the look in her eyes when she held her child. Despite all her challenges, her life was already full of meaning. She had a mother who loved her enough to personally show up. She was the entire world to her child. My family would send a helicopter, but I would go back to an empty apartment. Without her, I had nothing.
She wouldn’t risk even the tiny possibility of my seed growing inside of her, and that pained me more than I cared to admit. Not because I wanted a baby right now. But because it didn’t scare me like it scared her.
I knew I couldn’t make her see things from my point of view. We lived in such different realities. To her, another child equaled bankruptcy. And it was her body. But, I was desperate to hold on to what we had, now that she still responded to my touch. So, I kissed her again and again, working up a level of excitement that could only lead to frustration, enjoying every little sound from her throat, every time she relaxed a little more into my touch. Her tongue met mine in a slow game of chicken, neither of us willing to back down.
Maybe she wanted to hold on, too?
Finally, we ran out of breath and held there, her forehead pressed against mine, panting in unison.
“In different circumstances,” I said, “Would I be such a horrible candidate for a baby daddy?”
She let out a shaky laugh, pulling away to look me in the eye. “What?”
Hiding my gnawing anxiety under theatrics, I threw my arms out, eyes wide. “I’m serious! Am I such a horrible choice?”
Embarrassment reddened her cheeks. “I’m not looking for a baby daddy.”
“So… never again?” I wanted the truth. Even if it hurt.
“No, I mean… I wouldn’t want a baby daddy. Isn’t that someone you breed with who gives you money?”
I wanted to kick myself. “Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… me, as a father. I don’t know. Maybe I’m totally delusional. It’s a lot harder than it looks, right?”
Her smile disappeared, and she looked at me for a long time, eyes narrowing and then widening again like she was having trouble reading something. I swallowed. Could she see the ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach that reared its ugly head every time I thought about starting a family? I’d chickened out so many times, discouraged by my parents’ example. I didn’t want to breed children to heap them with money, privilege, andexpectations. I didn’t want to be the father who used financial carrots to control their offspring.
“You really want a family, don’t you?” Her eyes regarded me with a sense of wonder. “But you’re scared.”
My lungs deflated. “Yeah.”
