“No, nothing like that.”
Melissa dug her spoon into the cobbler while I dug my nails into my hand to suppress my burgeoning blush.
“Then you have to assume that he’s going to be dating, and you will be, too, eventually. How will you feel about that?”
“Fine!” My voice sounded a touch shrill. “I’ve encouraged him to do it, but he feels weird about it while I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” Melissa said. “So you told him to date and he refused?”
“Refused isn’t the right word. More like, declined.” Of course, I only had his word for it. Not that I needed his word or his promise. Jason was his own person.
Just not my person.
Melissa slid a look at Sean, then back to me. “And during this conversation, did he say how he felt about you dating?”
“It was a while ago. I told him I would, if the opportunity arose, but it was more to make a point that we both could. That the pregnancy should have no impact on our dating lives.”
Sean laughed. “And let me guess, he said, ‘no way!’”
“Correct. But I credited his reaction to some recessive or not-so-recessive knuckle-dragging trait inherent in the male species. Most men would be concerned about the future mother of their child having sex with another man. We see it a lot with gastropods, a marking of sorts to limit their re-mating potential. It’s almost like he felt the need to react this way, from a biological perspective.”
Melissa looked puzzled, though it was hard to tell if it was because of my comparison of Jason’s behavior to that of gastropods, or something else. “You thought his reaction was performative?”
“I assumed it was his id talking. Primal urges, my woman, my baby, that kind of thing. There’s not really anything substantive or intellectual underlying it.”
My mind strayed to that kiss he laid on me before I left Chicago: a typical example of Jason Isner marking his territory. It had initially annoyed me, but now I just added it to my bank of sensual memories.
Sean was looking at me strangely. “I wouldn’t be so sure. If Jason is saying he won’t sleep with anyone else, and is asking that you don’t either?—”
“Then he’s trying to tell you something,” Melissa finished, at which point they turned to each other, all gooey-eyed, thrilled to be completing each other’s sentences. Melissa went on. “Call it the id talking, primal urges, what have you. It boils down to feelings that neither of you are willing to acknowledge.”
That was months ago. We’d had sex since and neither of us had brought it up again. Neither of us wanted to know what the other person was doing.
Or maybe we were modeling our behavior on what we wished for each other.
I didn’t want him to be with anyone else.
He didn’t want me to be with anyone else.
Because we wanted to be … together?
I gave a mental headshake at the absurdity. Sure, I had hopes, but I was busy suppressing them along with my cravings for Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos.
I touched the knot of the silk scarf tied around my neck, the one Jason had bought in the Detroit hotel gift shop. When packing for Boston, I had found it. Such a pretty piece with its lovely dragonflies, it seemed a shame not to wear it on occasion.
“So he’s not dating anyone?” Melissa asked Sean, and I wanted to hug her for speaking what my mind was too afraid to verbalize.
“Not that I know of. Not since Everly.” He gestured to me. “And whatever’s happening with you.”
Everly was Jason’s last girlfriend in Boston. They broke up a few months before he was traded to Chicago, so perhaps she didn’t want to make the move. I hadn’t asked about her, mostly out of a desire to not appear clingy, but perhaps I should. She might have hurt him or burned him on relationships. I wanted to assure him that he could still find the one, even if that one didn’t look like me.
How depressing. Time for a subject change. “So, I had an interesting chat with the head of my host department today.”
Sean made a face. “Was it about slugs?”
I caught Melissa’s eye and its puckish glint. “He’s always been squeamish about my work.”
My old friend blurted, “You had wing-snails at the baby-making proposal!”
