Say You're Mine

by Alexis Winter

  Nope… nope… fuck no…

  “Are you OK?”

  I spring off the couch, suddenly feeling claustrophobic despite being in an open concept living room.

  “I’m fine. Totally fine. Everything is fine. Why would things not be fine?”

  “Maybe because you have said the word ‘fine’ four times in 10 seconds.”

  I’m now pacing, my mind going a million miles an hour. Kids have never been in the cards for me. For one, my job makes it nearly impossible. I’m not saying women have never been able to be both a detective and a mom, but it’s not easy. At all.

  And then there’s the part that I don’t know the first thing about being a mom. It’s not like I had a role model for one. My mom took off when I was 4 without even leaving a note telling my dad she wouldn’t be back. Now at 30, I have no memories of her. She could be dead in a ditch right now and I wouldn’t know. Sure, I could look her up, but I don’t want to. She’s been dead to me for years.

  I don’t know when he got up, but all of a sudden Ben is standing in front of me, his hands rubbing up and down my arms. The gesture is soothing, but my mind is still racing.

  “Amanda… talk to me, babe.”

  “I… do you… do you want kids?” I know the answer, but I have to hear it. I need to know how to proceed with this conversation. We might have just found each other, but if this is a fork in the road, it’s better to know now instead of later.

  “Yeah... I do,” he says, taking my hands and guiding me back to the sectional. “I’m not in a rush, but yes… one day I’d like children.”

  I look down, suddenly finding a string hanging from one of Scarlett’s throw pillows fascinating.

  “Amanda… do you not want kids?”

  I don’t know how long he waits for my answer, but I know it’s more than a few minutes. How do I say this without it leading to the inevitable while also being honest?

  “I… I don’t. At least, not at this point in my life.”

  I finally muster the courage to look at him, expecting to see disappointment or shock in his gaze. I don’t see either. Instead I see… understanding… compassion.

  Of course, I do. Because Ben Jameson is the most understanding man on the planet.

  “You know how much my job means to me, how hard I’ve worked for it. Having a baby is not conducive to a detective’s line of work. I’m not saying it can’t be done… it’s just…”

  “It would definitely be something that your partner would have to be OK with.”

  I nod. “Well… yes. And considering I’ve never even had a relationship until a few weeks ago, it’s not like that’s been something I actively think about.”

  “That’s understandable. … But I have a feeling that it’s not just your job.”

  I swear if he wasn’t a financial planner he should take up a job as a mind reader.

  I take a breath, nervous to say these words, though I don’t know why. It’s Ben. Except this is the most open I’ve been with a person… well… ever.

  “I don’t think I’d be a good mom.”

  My confession comes out in a whisper, and I don’t even think he heard it until I feel his arms around me, bringing me to his lap.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “My mom… she left us when I was 4. My dad… he did the best he could raising me. And don’t get me wrong, he did an amazing job. But… how can I be a mother when I don’t know what one is?”

  I can’t keep my tears in anymore. That one statement has been lodged in my throat since I can remember. It’s always been there, just biding it’s time to be voiced. But when I could use the reason, and if I’m honest the excuse of, my career as to why I didn’t want children, I could hide behind my shield. But somehow, in just a few short months, Ben has torn down literally every wall I had around my heart.

  Damn him. Damn him for bringing this out in me. Damn him for now holding me as I cry tears that I didn’t know I needed to cry.

  Just… damn him.

  The sound of the garage door opening startles me, and I hurry to wipe my tears away so Scarlett and Maverick don’t see me like this.

  “Hey…” Ben says, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “I know we probably still need to talk about this. Just… nothing changes. Nothing at all. OK?”

  Except that it does… it changes everything.

  Chapter 22

  Ben

  “Pawn to H3 takes your bishop.”

  Everyone has their own ways of getting away from it all. Some people go to the gym and try to work through their problems on a treadmill or by lifting weights. Jaxson has told me that when he needs to clear his head, he jumps on the back of his bike and goes for a ride for hours to nowhere.

  For me? It’s sitting on one side of a chessboard. Something about my brain needing to focus on the moves, on trying to think three steps ahead of my partner, allows me to put everything in my mind into specific boxes.

  I can put my family in one box. Aiden in another.

  My relationship with Amanda is taking up about six of those boxes right now. Or at least that’s what it feels like in my head.

  I know I told her last night at Scarlett and Maverick’s that nothing was going to change between us, but the second those words left my mouth, I knew I was a liar. The only reprieve was that I could see in her eyes that she knew I was too.

  I knew it was way too early in our relationship to have the kids and future talk -- hell, I just got her to get on board with us being a couple. And while I didn’t expect her reaction, I wasn’t surprised by it either.

  Amanda O’Donald is a guarded woman. A beautiful, smart, guarded woman.

  “Queen to H4 check. Next move checkmate.”

  I look at the board, baffled as to how I lost so quickly. Well, I know why. Probably because when I looked at the board, all I could see were the possible moves in my life that would end with both Amanda and I being happy.

  There weren’t many.

  “What’s the matter with you today boy? It’s like I’m playing against a novice.”

  Mr. Dunlap, the elder statesman of our chess club, is never one to hold back on you, or how he thinks your playing. He might be in his 80s, but his mind is still sharp, especially when looking at a chessboard. He and I usually have some pretty intense matches, and the scoreboard is even in terms of how many times we’ve beaten each other. Except for today, when he wiped the floor with me in less than 10 moves.

  “Sorry, Mr. Dunlap. Head just isn’t in it today.”

  I begin to reset the board when I realize that he’s staring at me. Like he’s trying to look through me and figure out what’s in my head.

  Good luck old man. Because I sure as hell don’t know.

  “What? Do I have something hanging out of my nose?”

  He shakes his head, sitting back in his seat. “I’ve known you for a long time boy. And you’ve never played that badly. Which means that something is weighing on your mind. And I’d put down a good chunk of change that a woman is baffling you right now. So we can do one of two things. We can continue playing where I beat you in five moves, or you get whatever you need to off your chest.”

  Weighing my options, I almost want to just continue getting my ass kicked. But on the other hand, maybe talking to someone completely away from the situation might help. It’s not like I can talk to Tori or Kalum about this. Or my family. Maybe I could talk to Alex at work, but he’s never been in a serious relationship, so I doubt he’d have any wise words of wisdom.

  I look down at Mr. Dunlap’s hand, no sign that a wedding ring ever rested on his finger. Not that it matters, I noticed it for the first time.

  “The girl I’ve been seeing, we had a heart-to-heart the other night, and there are some things that we want out of life that don’t match up. I guess it’s just been weighing on me.”

  It’s not a question or a plea for advice. Because I don’t know how to ask a man I only know through my chess club for relationship a
dvice. Hell, I feel stupid even saying what I just did.

  “Do you love her?”

  The question was simple, yet the words took me back. Do I? We’ve only been seeing each other for a few months. Do I love parts about her? Absolutely. And not just what we share in the bedroom. I love the way she has to turn down her music when she’s reading a recipe. I love the way she pretends to still be sleeping when she “accidentally” rolls back toward me in the mornings. I love her passion and her drive and how she makes me feel.

  I knew I was falling for her, but had I fallen and not known it?

  “I… I don’t know… I think I could one day.”

  He folds his hands together across the chessboard, leaning a bit closer to me. “I loved a girl once. Back in the day when you actually met people in person and not on the internet. She was my best friend’s little sister. And I remember the day I came home from my deployment in Korea. That little girl who used to chase us around had grown up. She was gorgeous. Smart as a whip. Made me laugh when I didn’t think I would laugh again. The fact that she gave me a chance at all still baffles me.”

  The chess game I thought we were going to play is long abandoned. I’m now hooked on every word Mr. Dunlap is giving me.

  “She was younger though, and she was about to go to college. She wanted to see the world, get out of our small town. I was ready to get on with my life. I wanted to marry her and start a family. Back then that’s what we did, and my stubborn ass couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want that with me. We were both pretty hard-headed, so we ended it. She went off to live her dream while I stayed behind.”

  What? How could he let her go? Just like that?

  “Why didn’t you try and do long distance? Maybe move with her?”

  “Because I might be able to see five moves ahead on a chessboard, but apparently I can’t see for shit when it comes to my future. My cocky ass always thought she’d come back for me. I never thought that she’d meet someone else.”

  “Did she...”

  “Marry him? Yup. They were married for 50 years, had three kids and seven grandchildren.”

  “Did you?...”

  He shakes his head. “No. I lost my chance at love because I was too hard-headed to have an honest conversation with her and try to figure out how we could both be happy. Even if you find the love of your life, it doesn’t mean you’re going to line up on every life choice together. These things… marriage, relationships… they take work. Compromise. Something I wasn’t ready, or willing, to do back then. And it’s left me here. Alone my whole life and talking to your dumbass over a chess game.”

  I laugh, appreciating his way of lightening the conversation.

  I know his story isn’t the same as mine and Amanda’s. But it does come down to compromise. To doing your best to make you and your partner happy.

  And at the end of the day, that’s all this comes down to. Being happy. Life is too short to not be.

  Like she knows this situation is weighing on my mind, my cell phone vibrates on the table.

  Amanda: Can we talk tonight? I don’t like how things we left things last night.

  I smile, somehow knowing everything is going to be OK.

  Me: Absolutely.

  I stand from the board, knowing that chess is over for the day.

  “I take it that’s your girl?” Mr. Dunlap says, a knowing smile on his face.

  “It is. Thanks… thanks for this.”

  He nods. “Anytime son. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Find the middle ground. It’s better than no ground at all.”

  * * *

  Chapter 24 -- Amanda

  It’s funny what memories you associate with things over the course of your life. It’s like when you hear a song on the radio for the first time in years and immediately you are transported back to a time and place you thought you had forgotten about.

  Every time I come to visit my dad in the apartment I grew up in on the Southside, I’m immediately hit with the smell, and it takes me back to my younger days when the biggest worry I had was whether I was going to put together the 500 piece puzzle that night or just read a book. I don’t even know how to describe the odor that I associate this neighborhood with. It’s one mixed with dirt, grime, garlic from Mr. Abruzzi’s pizza shop and a faint hit of marijuana. No one would ever bottle it up and made a candle out of it, but to me, this is when I know I’m home.

  I don’t come by often, but it’s not out of want. When I became a police officer, people in the neighborhood labeled me a traitor. This wasn’t the safest neighborhood growing up, still isn’t. Gangs and crime families are a real thing on this side of town. When you’re a teenager, you’re expected to pick which crew you are going to run with.

  When I picked the one that came with a badge and a gun, some understood and supported me. Some didn’t. It makes coming back to see my dad uncomfortable, which is why most of our meetups happen either at my apartment or in a neutral restaurant.

  But today’s visit is two-fold. Along with getting in a visit with my dad, I’m going to try and dig in a little more of what might, or might not, be happening at the pizza shop.

  I’ve never been in the back of Mr. Abruzzi’s restaurant, but I know there isn’t much in the front. Just a few tables for people who want to dive into their deep-dish slices. I wonder if he has a basement? A larger back room? I make a mental note to try track that information down because if I come right out and ask it, I’m sure I’d raise a few eyebrows.

  “Is that little Amanda?” Mr. Abruzzi says, coming from the kitchen to greet me at the counter.

  “Mr. Abruzzi, how are you?” I love this sweet old man. Growing up, when money got a bit tight, my dad would pull in two jobs, leaving me to fend for myself a lot. Mr. Abruzzi would let me come down here, eat a slice of pizza and do my homework until my dad got home.

  I continued doing that until I was in middle school and the only reason I stp[[ed was because of his creeper son, Mario. I hated the way he looked at me. It felt violating. I swear one time I saw him lick his lips when he was looking at me. By the time we were in high school, Mario was a wannabe thug who I heard didn’t like taking no for an answer -- in anything.

  “I’m good. I need to order a pie for me and my dad. It’s my turn to cook.” He laughs and begins my order, one he knows by heart after years of serving the neighborhood.

  “How’s everything going? Shop doing OK?”

  He nods, but won’t look me in the eyes, which I don’t know is of avoidance or because he’s still loading my pizza with toppings. “Sure, sure. Nothing exciting to report.”

  “How is Mario? I haven’t seen him the last few times I’ve been around?”

  Mr. Abruzzi doesn’t answer right away and right then I know that Collin’s tip might not be far off.

  “Oh... he’s Mario.”

  Mr. Abruzzi’s words trail off and I let them, taking the silence to allow myself to look around. For as much time as I spent here as a kid, I never went in the back. Never even thought about it. Peeking behind Mr. Abruzzi, I see that the door is open, and goes straight to an alley. Being on a corner, and a shop right next to him, there is nowhere to have a room off to the side.

  That would leave a basement, which is possible. I’m going to need to get the blueprints to the building on Monday.

  After a few minutes, Mr. Abruzzi brings my pie to the counter, and I grab my wallet to pay him.

  “Put that away. You know your money's no good here.”

  I don’t listen, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out. “Nonsense. I probably owe you until you close the shop for how much you fed me as a kid. Which I don’t know if I’ve ever properly thanked you for. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. So thank you.”

  His eyes glass over and he reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze.

  “I wish my boy turned out like you. You make us so proud Amanda. That you can get out of this neighborhood and do good in the world makes us real proud.”

 
; I keep hold of his hands and ask the million-dollar question. Because if I don’t now, I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to.

  “Is everything OK? You know… if you need help… for anything… you know you can call me right? I can protect you. You just have to let me know.”

  I know I shouldn’t have said that. While I love Mr. Abruzzi and don’t want to see him get hurt, I’m sure he doesn’t want to turn in or rat on his son. He’s his only living blood. But I needed to. He needs to know that I’m here for him, personally and professionally.

  He walks around the counter and pulls me in for a hug, which in all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think he has ever done.

  “You should come back next week,” he whispers, still embracing me. “Wednesday. After closing time.”

  He releases me but doesn’t look at me again, heading back into the kitchen.

  As I pick up my pizza to leave, I’m pretty sure I hear the faint sound of crying. But I don’t turn around to comfort him. Because I know there’s no comforting a man who just helped the police take down his son.

  Chapter 23

  Ben

  “No one is ever this happy to be in prison, baby brother.”

  Aiden’s voice snaps me from my thoughts of Amanda, who sent me a few suggestive texts and a photograph of promises for later before I walked in for my monthly visit. It’s probably good I’m not allowed to bring a phone inside the prison, or else he would have definitely caught me checking them out.

  “Can’t a guy be happy to see his brother?” I ask as he takes a seat across from me.

  “Not that happy. If I were to guess, I’d place my money on that smile being because the girl you told me about before is still around?”

  I just smile, because that’s what I do when I think about Amanda. Things have been good. We haven’t revisited the kids conversation, but that’s OK. We have time. We are still figuring us out.

  And right now, us is good.

  “She is. Things are good. Work is good. Mom is good.”