Better to do this the right way.
He’s right, I know he is, but that doesn’t mean I like it.
I hate that I’m not going to be able to let our boy curl up with me tonight and rub his head while he goes to sleep.
As I watch Owen, I think about last night, the conversation Carter and I had.
Seeing Owen like this, at the end of his emotional tether, I wonder if in eight years I’m really going to want to run for governor after all.
* * * *
Last night, while I’m standing at the end of our bed and staring down at the two different outfits I have laying on it, and I’m trying to decide which one to wear to the swearing in ceremony, Carter walks in the room and sits on the edge of our bed.
A bed that’s going to be empty by one far too soon. Owen is over at the capitol tonight, and will be home at some point. I thought Carter was going to be with him, but he surprises me by returning early.
“I want to talk, Suse.”
When he calls me that he gets my full attention, because not only are we talking as equals, it’s something serious and personal he wants to discuss. It’s kind of our conversational safeword.
I call himCarter Edward Wilsonto achieve the same effect, because he says it reminds him of his mom yelling at him with his full name as a kid, and is a guaranteed chub-killer if ever there was one.
If I call himMr. Wilsonit just turns him the fuck on.
Kind of turns me on, too.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He meets my gaze from where he’s lounging on the bed. He’s still fully dressed, another reason I know he’s about to delve in to something serious. We can’t do these talks semi- or fully naked, because, inevitably, we end up fucking.
“I want to revisit a discussion,” he says.
“About?”
“Children.”
I actually need a second to process what he said. We had that talk years ago, before Owen ran for the Hillsborough County Commission. We haven’t talked about it again, because Carter told me not to bring it up unless I was ready to give up politics.
Carter told me he gave Owen a similar admonishment years ago.
It’s been the untouchable topic for all of us since then.
“Um.” I swallow because my throat’s gone dry. “Ooookaaaay?”
“You and I both know Owen wants kids.”
I nod. That’s a given. He’s a great adopted uncle to Carter’s nieces and nephews, and to children of friends of ours.
He’d be an amazing father.
“And so do I,” he says.
I stare at him, unsure how to process this.
“Yes or no answer only, Suse. No qualifiers. Do you still want kids?”
“Yes,” I whisper. I can’t help it. I do, even though I’d pretty much given up on the thought of having them.
He nods. “Okay.” He stands and turns to go.
