I stare at her for a moment, considering. It has to come out sometime, right? Thomas, my son, the mess I made of things with him…
But then…Thom isn’t part of my life anymore. I support Martha as best I can, sure, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to involve him in any of this. I could just…brush it off, at least for now. The less she knows about him, the better. My son, as much as I hate to admit it, has only ever brought trouble for the people who know him, and I don’t like the thought of her being stained by his presence, not if I can avoid it.
I shake my head. “Nope. We’re amicable, we stay in touch, but that’s about it.”
She nods, taking another sip of her water. Just like when she was at the cabin, I find myself gazing at her mouth, the way it moves across the rim of the glass. Her full lips…I can recall all too easily what it felt like to kiss them.
I clear my throat, shifting slightly in my seat. “But back to the twins,” I continue.
Her face falls slightly, but she doesn’t try to stop me.
“Judging by the appointment last week, they’re doing well,” I explain. “But if they need anything in the way of medical treatment, I have access to some of the best in the country. I can get them taken care of quickly. Whatever they need, whenever they need it, I’ll be on call for them, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmurs. “That’s…I mean, I’m glad to hear that.”
Her voice sounds a little deflated, like someone has stuck a pin into her and let the air out.
Is this not what she expected? Did she think this was going to be something more personal, more like a date?
Hell, a part of me wishes it could be, but I know things are too complicated to allow my mind to even stray in that direction. I’m attracted to her, sure, and the memory of our night together still lingers whenever I’m near her like this, but we have to put the twins first.
Above everything. Above us.
“You can send over your banking details, if you’re comfortable,” I go on. “And we can figure out childcare when you go back to work—I’m happy to cover for you, or you can use some of the services provided by the hospital…”
I slip into business mode, putting up that wall between us as quickly as I can. I can tell from the way she’s looking at me that she’s stung by the sudden shift of topic, but we have to think about what matters most here. We have to focus on the babies.
She nods along, occasionally interjecting here or there with some cogent detail, but the wind seems to have been knocked from her sails, as if she were expecting something entirely different.
“Do you want to stay for some dessert?” I offer, hoping I can get this evening back on track and make sure she leaves without feeling this has been entirely formal.
She pauses for a moment, then shakes her head. “You know, I should get back,” she replies, reaching for her bag and hooking it over her shoulder. “I told Sofia that I wouldn’t be home late, and it’s not fair to keep her waiting.”
“Of course,” I agree, hoping she can’t tell how disappointed I am. “I’ll call the cab…”
“No, that’s fine,” she replies, raising a hand. “I can find my own way back. I think it’ll do me good, getting the bus, I can…clear my head. Lots to think about after tonight, right?” She perks her voice up slightly, but it sounds artificial, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as she is me.
I shake my head. “It’s late and it’s a Saturday night,” I point out. “You shouldn’t be going through the city by yourself. I’ll call you that cab, it’s not a problem?—”
“Martin, I told you, I’m fine,” she shoots back, a little more sharply than I anticipated.
I glance up, cocking an eyebrow. “Everything okay…?”
“Everything’s fine!” she replies, hooking her bag over her shoulder and looking around for the waiter. “Do they have my coat somewhere? I want to…”
She trails off, chewing her lip. She wants to get out of here. She doesn’t have to say it; it’s written all over her face.
And I can’t help but feel guilty, knowing that I’m the one who made her feel this way. I’ve blown hot and cold with her, walked out on her when she was in that hospital room, and then turnedup for the appointment with no warning. I took her out for a candlelit dinner, and then spent the whole time talking business. I can’t exactly go and act shocked that she doesn’t know where she stands with all of this, why she feels like she needs to clear her head all of a sudden.
She pauses for a moment, gathering herself, closing her eyes and then looking at me. I notice a couple of people are glancing around from the tables near us—no doubt wondering what I’m doing pissing off a girl half my age who probably shouldn’t even be giving someone like me a chance.
“Thank you for dinner,” she tells me, voice taking on an edge of the robotic. “And thank you for talking things out about the twins. I feel much better knowing where we stand with everything. Where I stand.”
With that, before I can get out a word, she turns and heads for the door.
I watch her go. And I know I should let her. I know that, on paper, I’ve done everything I came here to do tonight, to figure things out about the twins, to make sure that we’re on the same page with everything going forward.
And how she feels about me shouldn’t matter at all, not really.
