“Yes, just thinking about Sophie.” I give him a smile. “Thanks for all this.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He stands straight. “So, what would you like to do now? Watch TV?” He’s uncomfortable too, I realize. Whenever we spend time together, it’s a “date,” or we go straight to bed. Neither of us knows how to just be around each other. We’ve never had weekends puttering at home or evenings spent doing our own thing under the same roof.
“Sure, TV sounds great.” It will come, in time, I tell myself. But I still have an itchy wanting-to-run feeling. I’m not ready for this. Not ready to play house with him.
Greg finds an action movie and I say it sounds good, but I don’t really care what we watch and would have agreed to anything. I’m distracted, wondering about Sophie and Jared. Maybe I should have told her to stay home, but I wanted to see her smile again.
Headlights pull in the driveway and cast streaks of light on the wall. I stand to look out the window and recognize Jared’s car.
“Sophie’s home,” I say. My relief is short-lived when I see the silhouette of their two heads coming together for a kiss. I move away from the window.
Downstairs I hear Sophie softly closing the front door, unzipping her coat, pulling off her boots, then light steps as she walks up the stairs. She leans against the entranceway of the living room, wraps a strand of her hair around her finger.
“What are you guys watching?”
“Iron Man,” I say. “Want to join us?”
“Thanks, but I’m tired.” She gives us a small wave and disappears down the hall.
I try to focus on the movie, but I can’t get into the plot. “I’m pretty tired too. Think maybe I’ll just go to bed.”
“Yeah? You want me to—”
“No, no, stay and enjoy your movie.” I get ready for bed, washing my face and applying cream, brushing my teeth. When I’m done, I hesitate for a moment about whether to place my toothbrush beside Greg’s in his holder. In the end, I tucked it into my overnight bag.
I walk down the hall to Sophie’s room, knock gently, but she doesn’t answer. I want to go in and talk to her but decide to give her some space.
When Greg comes to bed an hour later, I’m still awake, staring at the ceiling. I hear the rustle of clothes as he moves around the bedroom, the water running in the bathroom, his electric toothbrush. I should feel happy about these domestic noises, maybe even comforted, but I miss my bed at home, miss the weight of Angus on my feet. Greg slides into bed beside me and drapes his hand across my stomach. I slowly roll onto my side, away from him. His hand drifts over my hip, pulls me against his body while he kisses the back of my neck.
“Not when Sophie is in the house,” I whisper.
“She can’t hear from her room.”
“That’s not the point.”
He lets his breath out in a sigh as he rolls onto his back. “It’s not about Sophie.”
I roll over too. “What do you mean?”
He props himself up on his elbow and turns to face me. “This isn’t going to happen for us, is it?”
“It just feels strange with Sophie in the house. I’m sure after a few days—”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
I’m quiet, looking up at his face in the shadows. “I don’t know,” I finally say.
“Yes, you do,” he says. “I can tell when a woman is crazy about me and when she isn’t.”
“I like you a lot, but—”
“It’s okay, Lindsey. I’ve been around the block a few times. You don’t have to give me the speech.” He doesn’t sound angry, more resigned.
“Do you really want this either?” I say. “Are you ready to be a stepfather to a teen girl? She’ll always be part of our lives. She’ll come home on weekends, vacations.”
“I like Sophie.”
“I know.”
“But I was also hoping we could start our own family in time.”
“I’m almost forty years old.”
“Lots of women have babies in their forties.”
“I have a daughter who’s turning eighteen in weeks. I just don’t think I can start back at the beginning again.” Why didn’t I tell him that when I first started dating? Probably because I knew it would be the end of things. “We should have had this conversation before. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t want to ask because then I’d have to hear it out loud. I guess maybe I was hoping in time…” So I wasn’t the only one who’d been avoiding reality.
We lapse into silence. I feel like I should say something, but any words of comfort or attempts to explain further would just be patronizing.
“I’ll call Jenny in the morning,” I say. “We can stay with her.”
“What about your brother?”
“It’s the first place Andrew might look. He doesn’t know where Jenny lives.”
“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“Of course not. It’s your bed.” I pause. “Should I sleep on the couch?”
“Stay here,” he says. “We might as well be comfortable.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Me too.” He rolls closer. “We can still cuddle, right? Gets cold in here.…”
I laugh. “Sure.”