Her hand glides over my chest in a slow, steady circle, as if I’m the one who needs soothing.
“And I know that we’ve just gotten together and thinking about this stuff is kind of jumping the gun. But we’re living together now, saying… emotional things to each other.” She flushes pink. “And it feels weighty. Like it’s more than just casual dating.”
“Because it is,” I say. How can she doubt that?
Chess’s finger curl into the fabric of my shirt. “Which means we have to go into this relationship knowing the facts. I don’t want to be a regret. I don’t want you wondering somewhere along the way if you made the right choice.”
“You think I’m not going to want you because you can’t have kids?” I don’t know if I’m hurt or insulted but it doesn’t feel good. It feels a lot like pain and panic.
But Chess shakes her head. “This isn’t something you can just declare in the moment.”
The hell I can’t. But I bite my lip. Instinct is telling me that the more I push, the more she’ll push back.
“And maybe…” She hesitates, licking her kiss-swollen upper lip. “I don’t want to wonder if you’re regretting things. When I found all this out, I made a promise to myself that any relationship I went into would be the right fit for me as well.”
For a second I just stare at her, trying to process what she’s saying. My words come out rough and halting. “Were you planning on finding a guy who didn’t want kids? Is that it?”
Her green eyes go wide and then she glances away. Guilty.
Something hot and itchy swells in my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
That hot thing grows, climbing up my throat. “I think I do. You’re basically dooming us before we’ve even started.”
Chess’s eyes snap to mine. “I’m telling you how I feel. You wanted to know. Well, this is it. I get scared. I think about these things. I don’t fucking want to. Believe me, I’d rather laugh and make love, and have my biggest worry be whether we get meatballs or onions on our pizza—”
I silence her with a kiss. Pressing my mouth to hers so she can feel me.
Chess stays stiff for a second then relaxes, her hand spreading wide on my chest. I pull back and look her in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I did ask. And I’m glad you told me.”
Her rests her forehead against mine. “You keep apologizing. Don’t. It isn’t your fault I can’t turn off my brain when I’m with you.”
How fucking ironic; the only time I can turn off my brain is when I’m with Chess.
Gently, I set her aside. I feel a headache coming on and my joints are stiff. “Let’s get this closet filled. Then I need to go for a run.”
She looks at me for what feel like forever but is really only a blink of an eye. When she talks, her voice is subdued but understanding. “Putting away clothes is something I can do myself. Why don’t you go for a run now?”
I don’t argue. I leave her to it and head out. I run for a long time, but I don’t find any answers while I’m gone.
* * *
Chess
* * *
What if I’ve made a mistake?
The thought tumbles around in my head with relentless persistence. I told Finn something intensely personal. The only other person who knows is James, who only found out because he was at the studio when I came back from my appointment.
Maybe it was too soon to tell Finn. What guy wants to talk about conception or the lack thereof less than a week out from having sex with a woman? I probably sounded like a crazed, jock chaser. I wouldn’t be surprised if he fears I’ll be asking for a ring next.
God, he’d looked spooked. And then so freaking stubborn. Finn is a problem solver. He relies on instinct, whereas I like to think things out.
“Argh.” I rest my head on the kitchen counter, letting the cool stone sooth my hot cheek.
I should have just told him the bare bones and moved on, had some fun with Finn without worrying about some shadowy future. And yet, I can’t do that. I’m totally gone on this man. What did James call it?
Besotted. I totally am. If I let myself fall any further, it will wreck me if we don’t last. I need for us to go in eyes wide open, or I will always worry.
Predictably, after I dropped my no baby bomb, Finn had been withdrawn. Oh, he had still reached for me as we got into bed, slid his hand down my pants and insisted that I’d be more comfortable never wearing clothes to bed again. He’d fucked me into oblivion, with quiet intensity that felt almost like desperation, as if I’d soon disappear on him. I’d felt the same, turned to him with a neediness that bordered on painful.
But it feels as though there’s a rift between us now. And I put it there.
Finn had left early for his home game today. I’d expected him to ask me if I wanted a ticket to go watch. But he hadn’t said a word, just gave me a light kiss on the mouth and said he’d see me tonight.
It hurt so much that I hadn’t watched him on TV. I caught up on work instead.
Dinner at the kitchen table is lonely now that I know how it feels to share it with Finn. My dinner is finished and I’m still alone in a too quiet condo.
“Shit.” I push myself upright and open my laptop. I don’t know how to turn off my mind or stop from worrying. So I put my focus on work instead. Work is safe. Work I understand. I can control it.
I’m touching up a photo of Jake for the calendar when Finn comes home. I look up from my perch on the kitchen stool to find him limping along, his expression drawn and tight.
I know pain is part of his life. It still guts me every time I see him hurting. “Hey,” I say, catching his attention.
“Babe.” Finn moves toward me, going at a snail’s pace.
Jesus, he’s in a bad way.
I jump off my stool. “Bedroom.”
His lips curls in a tired but pleased smile. “I like how you think, Chester, but you’re gonna have to do most of the work tonight.”