Sam straightened his clothing while I leaned against the door, recovering. I was still hazy, and all of my thoughts and reactions had to fight through that fog. He bent to collect the button I’d sent flying, and then knelt before me. I didn’t understand what he was doing, and watched empty-headed as he lifted my skirt.
He stared at me—or, more precisely, he stared at my crotch—and I was starting to think he was looking at an ugly mole or ingrown hair. But then he ran his hand up my thigh, smiling, and said, “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is to see me all over you? How much I love that? How much I loveyou?”
Sam used his handkerchief to catch most of the fluid between my legs, and leaned forward, leaving a light kiss on my mound. He dragged his fingers over my slit, and then speared inside me. It skated a razor-fine line between pleasure and pain, and when I cried out, Sam’s fingers retreated. As he stood, I grabbed his wrist and lifted his fingers to my mouth. I tasted the mix ofuson him, and I released a tiny groan as I sucked him. He wiped his thumb over my lips and leaned in, kissing me with more heat and emotion than I could manage.
“Does that mean you’d like to do it again?”
“As soon as possible,” he said.
He smoothed out my dress and we basically sprinted through the compound until we reached the parking lot. We spent the evening wrapped in each other, laughing and kissing and touching, and forgoing the condoms.
Everything seemed fine until the morning, when Sam left for the resort gym—he always invited me, but I only ran when chased—and I stood in the shower, my fingers turning to prunes. I forced myself to go back in time and date my last period, and yeah, I was right in the middle of my cycle.
Hello, fertility.
The realization sank in my stomach, and my brain went into hyper-spastic mode.
I didn’t say more than a few words when Sam returned and we headed to the airport. It was like I was sleepwalking, and I couldn’t form sounds that made sense. We shuffled through airport security, and Sam put a bagel and cappuccino in my hand while we waited to board our flight. I stared at them, too lost in my thoughts to eat.
“I could be pregnant. Like, actually pregnant,” I whispered. No one was seated nearby, but giving voice to these thoughts made them all the more real.
He removed the lid from his tea, the steam rising and curling between us. “And you’d be unhappy about that?”
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open in shock. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Actually . . . no,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “I wouldn’t. I thought about it last night.Allnight. You slept hard, Sunshine, but I spent the entire night thinking about putting a baby in you. I wouldn’t be unhappy. I’d be thrilled, as long as it was what you wanted.”
WhatIwanted.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know whether I want a baby? I haven’t thought about having kids since ever. And holyfuck,Sam, a baby is one hell of a permanent commitment,” I said. “I mean . . . shit. I don’t even know what to say.”
“I love you.” He squeezed my hand until I met his eyes. “And you love me?” I nodded. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
“But, what would we do?” I wanted specific answers. I didn’t care that I was taking all of Sam’s obsessive-compulsive tendencies and wearing them as my own. “When would I finish my dissertation? What about the classes I’m teaching? And the kids I’m working with—how would I have sessions with them? Would I be able to do all that with a baby? Would the baby come to the college with me? What would it do all day? And where would we live? And my family—oh God, my parents will have such passive aggressive things to say. And kids are expensive and I don’t understand anything about breastfeeding or vaccines. Andeverythingabout my life would change.”
“Do me a favor and breathe.”
“You breathe,” I said. I was being loud and screechy, and though this section of the airport was relatively empty, I was certain everyone was watching my life crack open. “It’s not your vagina that’s going to do all the work.”
Sam cringed and pulled me from my seat into his lap. “I haven’t thought about kids before now, either,” he said, his hand stroking my back. “But I’ve thought about you, and all the things I want with you. We can have our own family, Tiel. You and me andour baby,and I want that more than I can explain.”
“Why are you being so calm?” I asked, but it came out in a shriek. “Hyperventilating is a collegiate sport for you. Where are you with the thermonuclear panic when I need it?”
“I’m not living down that one time on the sidewalk in Cambridge any time soon,” he said, shifting me from his lap. He collected my untouched coffee and bagel, and hooked my tote bag over his shoulder.
“You’re only doing that because you think I might be carrying your spawn,” I said as we walked toward the gate.
“No,” Sam replied. “I’m doing it because I love you, and the least I can do is grab your bag while you freak the fuck out.”
Once we boarded the plane and got situated in our seats, he laced his fingers with mine and kissed the back of my hand.
“I can give you answers to all those questions, but I don’t think you want any of that right now.” I stared out the window, watching as the ground crew tossed one bag after another onto a conveyor belt. “I will support you no matter what, and I promise you can trust me.”
“I just have a lot to think about,” I said. “And we’re probably blowing this out of proportion. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
When we were airborne, I unraveled my earbuds, handed one to Sam, and called up my playlist. I rested my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and let myself drown in the music while I tried to convince myself that everything was going to be fine.
SHANNON WAS A notoriously picky eater. Unlike me, there was no philosophy or dietary rationale behind her food choices. Nothing was ever cooked the way she liked it, I could name at least forty things she refused to eat, and more often than not, she ate a slim fraction of the food on her plate.
