He says it with a smile, a controlled joke, meant to break me down, meant to release the tension, meant to make everything we’re arguing about feel irrelevant. But I don’t laugh, and his attempt at humor hangs there like a bad taste.
“Look,” Nate says, his voice low and soothing, as he steps toward me and puts his hands on my shoulders, “I get it. I understand how you can be mad at me. I’m a little slow on the uptake when it comes to relationships – you know that. It just took me a little time to get to where you are, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, looking up at him, holding on to my resistance despite the seductiveness of his eyes. He still thinks this situation is so simple. When in reality, it couldn’t be further from that, now that this baby is on the way. And how can I tell him?
“And the video thing…I should have told you. I would have told you. It’s not that big a deal to me, so it shouldn’t be for you. Shit, we’d probably have laughed about it if I got to tell you myself. I never meant for it to be some kind of secret.”
He holds me in his eyes, and despite my warring emotions I can’t help feeling the effects of the controlled desire in them.
“Actually…” I start, as his hands brush down to my waist, “I’ve got a secret of my own.”
“Oh yeah?” Nate says, and I see the smolder in his eyes that always ends with us naked.
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath, my heart about to pound right out of my chest. This is it. Now or never. “I’m pregnant.”
Nate stops breathing. I feel his hands stiffen at my sides, and his face turn to stone. He steps back, away from me, and brings his hands to his mouth, turning away, then turning back toward me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” My pulse is still skyrocketing, and I cross my arms and try to just breathe.
He paces a little more.
“How did that happen?”
This time I’m the one who smiles with controlled aggression. “I thought you were an expert?”
“It’s mine?”
I try – and fail – to hold back an insulted snort.
“No, it’s Lorelei’s - of course it’s yours. And I’m keeping it, so don’t even think about suggesting otherwise.”
Nate paces a little, breathing into his palms. He stops and looks at me.
“Okay. So what happens now?” he says, suddenly defiant and confrontational again. “Do you expect me to just…change into someone else?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t expect you to change at all. That’s the problem.”
Nate stands there glaring at me, tense and angry, as if I’ve cornered him. I guess I have.
“I need some time to think,” he says, already moving towards the door.
“I won’t hold my breath,” I reply, but he’s already gone.
22
Nate
I’m driving to meet Kyle at a taco place in Malibu, right off PCH. It’s a sunny Saturday, not too hot, and there’s the glorious kind of mid-day light over L.A. that almost makes you forgive living in a city of smog. But I’m gripping the wheel so tightly that my knuckles feel like they’re locked, and even the a/c can’t stop the uncomfortable prickliness running down my spine.
I park the BMW and get out, too lost in my own thoughts to even acknowledge the flirty comment from a girl in yoga pants walking past. Striding toward the stand purposefully, the rest of the world out of focus, I eventually see Kyle notice me and grin.
“Hey buddy!” he says, as we grab hands.
“Hey man, good to have you back,” I say, falling into our habitual way of talking, but still locked in an internal wrestling match.
“Believe me,” he says, already turning towards the stand, “not as good as I feel being back. Shit!”
“How was London this time?”
“Better the second time around. I never had to kiss so much ass in my life – not outside a bedroom anyway.”
“But you got the contract back?” I say, as we line up.
“Eventually. But having to go over there again means I’m way behind on my work for everyone else. I’m at the limit, dude. And this jet lag! How about you?”
“I’m good, same old,” I say, before turning to order, glad to be cut off from making small talk.
We grab our food and make our way to some benches, the beach off to one side, L.A. traffic on the other. I tear into my food like I’m really hungry, even though my stomach’s turning so much I can barely chew.
I’ve been visualizing this moment for days. Turning it over in my mind as if looking for the key. Short and sweet, no. That’s an invitation for a reaction. Take my time, let him know I’m serious. He probably wouldn’t let me get that far. I’ll do what I always do, try and go with the flow. Or maybe not.
“What’s up?” Kyle says, licking his teeth and wiping his fingers already.
“You finished that quick,” I say, nodding at his plate. “Maybe they think you can do more than one person’s work because you eat enough for a whole group.”