Everything.
He walks me past a few doors and into his bedroom—well, I guess our bedroom. A bedroom for two people not in love but living together and sharing a baby together, a bedroom where there will be sex because, even though just looking at him makes me want to roundhouse kick his crotch off, I still want my mouth on his cock.
The hospital actually kept me for a total of three days. Eli stayed by my side the whole time, and every kind gesture, every kiss, every hold of my hand, made me so angry.
Very angry.
Irrationallyangry.
Because it’s confusing. I feel like he’s playing with my heart, and I don’t know how to handle it. And the more upset I get, the more I want to cry. The more I want to cry, the more he wants to hold me and be affectionate. It’s a vicious circle, and for the life of me, even though I know he doesn’t love me, I keep holding his hand, I keep snuggling into him. Because, despite him not loving me, I still very much love him and I can’t stop my heart from seeking him out.
That’s why I’m here, in his apartment, not running away.
He opens the door and smiles as he walks me in. The center of the room is his enormous bed, but with matching bedding as I had in my apartment. The nightstands have been switched out to reflect mine, and the rug on the carpet is new, but again, it ties everything together. The art on the wall above the bed is from my bedroom, and on the nightstands—each of them—is a sonogram picture framed. It’s a sweet gesture that once again irritates me.
What if I wanted a different picture there?
What if I don’t want our baby staring at us when he’s plowing into me from behind?
What if I didn’t want that freaking swirly art above the bed, but rather a mirror, so I could see myself while I deal with the irritating fact that I still want this man inside me, all the time?Even though...
He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my stomach as he places a kiss on my neck. “What do you think, babe?”
Ithink it was a huge invasion of my privacy to have some stranger move all of my things, but I can’t look like an ungrateful wench because frankly, I’ve inserted myself into this situation, so I say, “It’s nice.”
It’s all I can muster.
It’s all my heart can take.
“Nice?” He laughs. “Just nice? Man, I thought there’d be a bigger reaction than that. Do I need to show you the closet space you have to warrant a ‘really nice’?”
“Just soaking it all in,” I say.
“Well, I have one more thing to show you.” He takes my hand and brings me to the door on the left just outside our bedroom. He opens it up, and low and behold, it’s a white room with beautiful hardwood flooring, the same as the entire apartment, with large windows and a single white crib constructed in the very middle. “It’s for our little guy.”
Okay . . . listen up, ladies. This right here, this gesture is cracking my shell of indifference. The irritation is melting into a puddle at my feet, and in its place, an emotion so intense, so palpable starts to take over.
Happiness?
Joy?
Anticipation?
He didn’t decorate this room. He’s done absolutely nothing but leave it as a blank canvas, something for both of us to do together. That was sweet. That was thoughtful.
That right there is why I can’t seem to take a step back from him.
It’s why I’m so confused.
Why my heart is breaking with every breath that I take. With every warring ounce of love I feel. Worry laces his eyes as I walk toward him. I gently place my hand on his face, stand on my tiptoes, and place a very soft kiss on his lips. His hand presses into my lower back, keeping me in place as he reciprocates the kiss, reminding me just how much I’m addicted to him.
To his taste.
To the way his body molds against mine.
And to how he makes me feel protected . . . loved, despite how he truly feels.
My mouth parts, and I slip my tongue against his lips. He parts his mouth as well, and our tongues collide, but not in a frenzy. We’re calm, exploratory, appreciative. His hands slide up the back of my shirt as our kiss deepens even further, pulling the hem up until I lift my arms above me and allow him to take it all the way off, leaving me in my bra and shorts.
