Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“No, vanilla and lavender sounds perfect, and I need caffeine like woah,” she says, crawling into one of the barstools on the other side of the island and making grabby hands. “Gimme, please and thank you.”
I set the latte in front of her and turn to make another for myself as I ask, “Hungry? I could make an omelet and toast. Or we could order something.”
“Coffee is fine for now,” she says. “I’m too nervous for food just yet.”
I glance over my shoulder as the machine whirs, grinding the espresso beans. “Nervous about?”
“The talk,” she says, cradling her warm mug between her palms. “We’re having ‘the talk’ this morning, and the talk is always scary.”
I grunt in agreement.
“But not as scary as a lot of other things we’ve both been through,” she says, with what I’m guessing is forced chipperness. “We can handle it. So, let’s just dive right in and get it over with, shall we?”
“All right.” Girding my loins, I turn to face her with my arms crossed. “I’m developing feelings for you, and I would like for this to be more than a business arrangement. But I’m terrible at relationships. My longest lasted about ten months, and that was with me trying in a way I don’t have the bandwidth to try right now, considering the situation with my mother. Additionally, I have no desire to be a husband or father. Ever. Since you clearly want children, that means—even if I were able to give you what you need emotionally, though I have yet to show any talent for that with other women—we’re incompatible in the long-term. Therefore, all I can offer you is the affection, companionship, and support I’m able to provide in the present moment, for as long as we both decide that moment should last.” I pause for a moment, but I can’t afford to leave the last part of this unsaid. “And, should you decide you’d like to continue to try for a baby during the time we’re together, I would still plan to exit your life after the child was born. As I stated before, and as outlined in our agreement, that’s non-negotiable for me.”
In the wake of my speech, Elaina sits in stunned silence, blinking as if she’s just emerged from time spent underground. Finally, she pulls in a breath and mutters, “Well, that was direct.”
“I thought you would have realized by now that I don’t do subtle.”
She blinks again. “Yeah, I have. Realized that. I guess, I just thought…” She glances down at her mug, takes a drink, then, stares at it some more, as if she’s waiting for the latte to offer guidance on the situation.
I’m about to tell her that there’s no rush, that she should take time to digest everything I’ve said, when she looks up.
Her gaze is clear, calm, if a hint more cynical than it was a moment before. “But deep down, I knew better. You are who you are. And I am who I am. Yes, I like to imagine there will come a day when I have an amazing husband, a pack of kids, and the kind of loving family that lasts forever, but…I never had that growing up. It was just my mom and me. And my longest relationship only lasted six months, so who am I to throw stones at you? I mean, as we’ve noticed before, we’re a lot alike.”
“You’re young,” I say, not wanting her to lump herself in with me. She’s not a lost cause, not even close. “It’s not unusual not to have had a long and lasting relationship at twenty-six. I’m forty-two. At this point, for me it’s…pathological.”
“Why?” she asks, her brow furrowing. “Because you don’t want to change or try to get better at relationships? Or because you don’t believe you can?”
I meet her gaze across the island, my mouth curving into a wry smile. “That’s one of the things I like best about you.”
“What’s that?”
“That you always ask the toughest question possible. You go right for the throat, no hesitation. I find that irrationally attractive.”
Her lips twitch. “I’m glad to hear that. Most people find it intrusive. Or obnoxious or inconsiderate and a sign of poor social skills. It even pisses my friends off sometimes, and they love me.” She shrugs. “I just…can’t help it. Ignoring the things we’re all too afraid to say out loud doesn’t make them any easier to handle. If anything, it only gives them more power to scare us. So?” She cocks her head. “Which is it? Do you even know?”
“I’ve had therapy,” I say. “And I’m still in therapy. It’s not that I’m unwilling to do the work, I just…” I break off, wanting to get this right, to be as honest with her as possible. She deserves that. “I honestly don’t know if I’m capable of showing affection in the way other people do. I tried with my last partner, I really did, but I couldn’t seem to break through. I couldn’t take what I felt on the inside and bring it to the outside in a way that made her feel what she needed to feel.”