Meternity

by Meghann Foye

  “Dani, you know Uncle Gavo would want nothing more than to keep playing fairy princess with you, but we’ve got to get you home, honey. Maybe you can see Aunt Lizzie in the fall and come pumpkin picking with us!”

  “Make a promise, Uncle Gavo.”

  “I promise, Dani. And good uncles don’t break their promises.” He winks at me, and in that moment, I feel a strange warmth. Could he be thinking about some potential future with me?

  “Okay. Bye, Lizzie.” She all of a sudden jams her head into my side, wrapping her arms around my legs in a tight hug. I kiss the top of her head.

  “I’m just going to go drop her and the baby, Eloise, off. Will you be around later tonight? Maybe we can grab some dinner near you?”

  “I can come with you, it’s no problem. It’s been forever since I’ve driven around in a car. It would be nice.”

  “No, that’s okay,” he says quickly. “I want to get in a little gym time. Come to my place around eight?”

  I tell him sure, surprised, but happy to see this side of him, and later on in the evening, I walk out of the Fourteenth Street subway toward Jane Street.

  When I finally arrive at his apartment, inside, it’s exactly how I’ve pictured it. A triple-level in a townhome, with a loft bed on the second level and another downstairs. In the living room, there are book stacks as high as the ceiling, filled to the brim with hardbounds and softbounds. Leather club chairs frame the fireplace, almost as if it were some colonial expat trading post. Cardboard wine boxes are scattered everywhere. I check out some of the titles, and it’s the usual traveler fare: Hemingway, Orwell, Bryson, Dalrymple, Hunter S. Thompson. The classics: King Lear, Great Expectations, Moby Dick, and then I smirk. There’s an original softbound, heavily dog-eared, of French Women Don’t Get Fat.

  “So I’m glad you could come out today. Dani really liked you. I could tell.”

  “She’s a cutie,” I reply.

  “I wanted to see you before my next business trip,” says Gavin.

  “Where are you heading to this time?” I question, fighting the feeling of nervous tingles in my stomach.

  “This week we’re jetting off to San Sebastian, in Spain, to check out a potential new winery source. Their wines are young and rustic, but show potential. I’ll be back at the end of the week, though.”

  He leans across the table to give me a peck on the lips.

  “Don’t you like the older, mature wines, too?” I tease.

  “Nah, they’re overrated. Too expensive and high-maintenance. You’ve got to store ’em at just the right temperature, and looking for the perfect buyer’s a pain.”

  “But older wines have a depth you just can’t find in the young ones,” I say, holding on.

  “Eh, I’ll take the young ones for now,” he says, not even looking me in the eye.

  I get up and push the chair in so forcefully it screeches across the floor. He notices my standoffishness.

  “C’mon, love. What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, just work stuff,” I say.

  “Well, can I take your mind off it with another glass? There’s a French spot on Perry that has my bottles. They’ve got those old, stuffy wines you like so much,” he teases.

  “Okay fine,” I acquiesce, and we head over to the restaurant. Once we’re seated, I mention my upcoming press trip to Newport. “I’m really excited to check out the surrounding towns...maybe seek out some clam stands to recommend,” I say, taking a sip of my wine, as he gulps down the last of his. “They’re putting me up for free. I’m hoping this can lead to more travel assignments,” I tell him.

  “That’s superb, love. I keep meaning to check out your blog.”

  “You should. It’s pretty good stuff,” I tell him cheekily.

  “I bet it is,” he tells me.

  After another hour, our conversation shifts. His eyes seem to lower and are more open. And there’s a focus there that I haven’t seen yet. “You were great with Dani, today. Thanks.”

  “Of course. I had fun. She’s a great little girl.”

  He acknowledges it. “So, Liz, I have to ask you something I’ve been wondering for a bit,” he says. “Are you dating anyone else right now?”

  “No, not currently,” I say with apprehension. “Why?”

  He looks strangely serious. “Well, er, I just like you, that’s all. I have for a while. And want to make sure I’m prepared if I have to beat out any of the competition.”

  “Really?” As I ask, my stomach clenches. I’m not sure what the feeling means.

  “Why not? I like you. You’re sexy. And you don’t take any of my shit, which I really like.”

  “I thought this was just for fun,” I say demurely.

  “Well, I’m not proposing marriage this second.”

  “Right. That’s what I thought. Come on, I know it’s not anything serious with you.” I sit back in my chair.

  “What if it is?” He reaches for my hand and pulls me in toward him, giving me a small kiss. I honestly am not expecting any of this.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not really dating anyone right now. I’m too busy with work.” A brief thought of Ryan passes through my mind, but I’ve realized he’s not really part of the picture anymore.

  “That’s good,” he says, and starts kissing me softly.

  “So how do you feel about me? Any red flags?”

  I think about this question for a second. While it has been fun hanging out with Gavin, I’m not expecting this at all. Not right now. Not with meternity looming. Still, what I saw today opened my eyes to a whole other side of him. Maybe I can let it go. Just a bit more. He’s not proposing marriage, and I’m not accepting. “Well,” I say, “purple Amexes aside, no red flags. Yet.”

  “Good. I don’t see any red flags, either.”

  He leans in and kisses me more deeply. “You’re so sexy,” he says, looking at my eyes, and then my nose, and then my lips. “Your lips are so juicy. I want to bite you.”

  We kiss, and for once, I get a sense of his vulnerability that he usually keeps so hidden. His eyes soften as he pulls away to look at me. His eyes seem different—open, as if he’s really looking at me for once. “Maybe you’ll be the girl who makes me give up my vagabond lifestyle.”

  I say nothing, trying to make sense of my feelings. But it’s hard—hearing that he’s placing me in his future hits a place I’d disconnected from entirely.

  He touches my arm and brings his head toward mine.

  “Good. Now that’s settled. I’ve been invited to another Top Chef castoff’s new restaurant project in Williamsburg. Wanna come with me? It’s next weekend. You know, as my date? You can meet all my importer friends.” He grins. I tell him sure, and we walk back to his apartment.

  Once inside, he lifts me up and brings me over to his bed, where we continue to make out for quite a while. Gavin playfully pins my arms down, and then stares into my eyes. I feel him growing hard against me underneath his jeans. We start rocking together, slowly, and I’m amazed to find how connected we feel. He stops for an instant, and nuzzles into my neck. “Liz, I want you,” he whispers.

  At once I feel a spectacular mix of emotions: lust, my heart opening, a tinge of sadness and then a swoop of fear. Adding a sincere love interest to the mix now is not what I need.

  “Come on, Liz. Don’t you want me?” I feel a sweetness in the way he says it. A vulnerability. Like it matters if I say yes. I nod back demurely. A second later, he grabs the top of my ankles in one hand, throws my legs over his shoulders and I feel him pushing into me over our clothes slowly again and again, which sends little fiery pulsing throughout my whole body. He moves his head down toward my waist and begins to unbutton my jeans. “You mean a lot to me, Liz. I just want to feel close to you.”

  “Are yo
u, um, safe?”

  “Tested last month. And I haven’t been with anyone else since.” He looks me directly in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”

  He moves his hand down and begins rubbing over my thong, finally sending me out of my head and in my body. Before I realize it, he’s thrown off my shirt and jeans, moved my panties down and slipped inside of me a few times, and then I find a condom for him to put on. Considering I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen because of an overly heavy period, I decide not to let it worry me.

  For the next moments, he builds momentum on top, then repositions me so I’m on top of him, leaning back on his knees. He takes hold of my hips, guiding them as we keep rocking together back and forth. Though his moves feel honed to perfection, I also feel like we’re also instinctively in tune, which finally makes me lose self-consciousness. “I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I laid eyes on you that night at the pub,” says Gavin, now going with my lead as I start swirling my hips around his, trying to find what feels good for me. He tells me to take my top off, then pulls off my bra, playing softly with my swelling breasts.

  “Your body is amazing. You’re such a...a woman.”

  With that, he grows super, super hard inside me, and after rocking for a while, all the sensation makes me orgasm so hard I can feel the aftershocks throughout my body for over a minute. In the moments after, he wraps his arms around me, and I feel a tension in his biceps, as if he’s subconsciously protecting me. Half-asleep, he whispers something I’m not expecting to hear into my ear.

  “You were really great with Dani today.”

  “Thanks. She’s a great little girl.”

  Then, “Do you want to be a mum?” It’s almost an afterthought.

  Feeling completely open, I admit that, yes, I do. Very much. He pulls me around toward him to face him. “Can I tell you my little secret? You seem like a girl who can keep a secret.”

  Oh, God. Another secret.

  He pulls his arms away from me to his sides.

  “I have a child. Sam. He’s seventeen as of October 20.” His eyes hold a look of trepidation and bullishness, almost daring me to say what I think. I stay silent, letting him continue. He tells me it was an accident. When he was twenty-two. With a waitress at his family’s vineyard. She was thirty-two, he says, and wanted to get herself knocked up most likely because she was struggling. His family made him give her parental rights, and they set up a trust fund. Gavin’s seen his son a couple of times since, but hasn’t formed any kind of bond. I ask him if he wants to. “I have a feeling he’s better off without me at this point. Nope. My job is to send him money to make sure he’s okay.”

  “But you have to have a relationship with him. I’m sure he’d rather know you than just receive a check every year.”

  “Lizzie, there are some things in life that don’t work out as we’d hoped. You just have to live with it. When you’re a parent, you’ll understand,” he says, almost drifting off. “Good-looking kid, though. His mother’s Indonesian.”

  Gavin has a son? Born on Lucie Rose’s birthday? I roll away from him, eyes wide-open, twisting the sheets along with me as I hear Gavin start to snore. A new sadness opens in me that I’ve never before felt. I may be stuck in a lie, but all of a sudden, I feel naive. The complexities of this world run deeper and more intertwined than I’ve ever before realized. But at the same time, I’ve never felt more alive.

  Twenty-Four

  The next morning I stir a bit, grabbing my phone to check the time—which causes him to wake. With the light of day flooding in through the curtains, Gavin immediately untangles himself from me. Before I’ve realized what’s happened, he pops into the shower, calling out “Morning, love” behind him, the signs of his honest revelations erased with the daylight.

  Once out of the shower, I take a gander at his toned, hairless chest. His six-pack is perfect.

  “So, uh, I’m off to San Sebastian tonight, but I’m back Thursday. Dinner then?” He pulls some juice out of the fridge, takes a hefty swig and checks briefly to see if I want any, then claps his hands together and closes his eyes. He then takes a long centering breath and places his hands in a prayer stance, then into a karate chop. “What a great night last night, huh? I’m going to downward dog the fuck out of this class.”

  “Class?”

  “I’ve got power yoga at nine. But feel free to stay here as long as you need, love. I’ve got an Amazon hookup on the TV so you can watch those British reality shows I know you like.” He pulls on his shirt, grabs his keys and takes off, banging the door loudly as he closes it without saying goodbye. I’m dumbfounded. I pull the covers back over my head and a rush of feeling comes haunting me. What am I doing? I’m not even supposed to like this guy!

  I notice a framed photo in the corner of him with a little half-Asian boy of about six. And next to it: gratitude journal. I throw my pillow at it.

  Emergency Text Summit, re: emotionally f****d status.

  Review/Insights.

  Addison: WeWork Battery Park Plaza

  The whole thing doesn’t sound promising, but some guys are weird—you never know. His always going away for business makes it hard.

  Brie: PowerCycle, Noho

  Go for it, Liz. What do you have to lose? After what he told you at the restaurant, it sounds like he’s turned a corner by revealing his intentions.

  Liz: 86th and Columbus

  But what about him leaving in the morning?

  Brie: You aren’t exactly Miss Open-and-Available yourself. Maybe he’s picking up on the vibes that you can’t really devote yourself to a relationship right now. Doug says Gavin’s like a thoroughbred horse that spooks easily with any kind of controlling behavior. He’s a good guy, but just has a bit of a hair trigger. [Horse emoji. Gun emoji.]

  Liz: Maybe you’re right. So, has the Frenchie guy Jacques been around lately? [French flag emoji.]

  Addison: We went out twice after that first Saturday, and again yesterday. You know, I didn’t think he was a real prospect, but I’m kinda really liking him a lot. He doesn’t seem to be intimidated by my career—he says he loves that about me. I think it’s his European mindset. Plus, honestly, guys, he’s so, so amazing in bed. He’s going to be my date to the VMAs on Thursday—but I mean, should I really be considering him as a prospect? He’s only 28!

  Liz: I think you’re right about the European thing...don’t rule things out.

  Addison: I guess the age thing does weird me out a bit. I mean, you know how old my dad’s new girlfriend is? 26. Yep. Creepy.

  Brie: I don’t know, hon, get it while the getting’s good. Doug and I have been having a bit of miscommunication issues in the past few weeks. Nothing serious, but sometimes he’ll get cranky when he’s stressed about work and then our night’s basically shot. And he always used to text me a million times a night. Now, he sometimes waits until the next morning if he’s out with the guys.

  Liz: That’s not such a big deal.

  Brie: That’s always what happens when guys get comfortable. There’s a little pull-back phase.

  Addison: Listen, don’t worry. Just go get some protein and caffeine and you’ll be fine.

  Brie: Urban Organic Juice Bar

  Addison’s right. Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.

  Liz: Momofuku Milk Bar.

  I KNOOOOOWW.

  * * *

  There’s another text interrupting our chat: Hey Miss Old Vines, want to meet me for dinner as soon as I’m back? I have a surprise for you. It’s Gavin.

  Liz: He has a surprise for me.

  Brie: Ooh. You’re on Lock Down, Liz.

  Additon: Yep, it’s the define the relationship moment!

  Brie: Good luck!

  Me: Ahhhhhh

  Brie: You know what comes next..
. PH!!!

  But do I want to be?

  * * *

  My newfound “locked down” relationship has me in such a daze that on Thursday morning, I barely freak out when I see a note from Cynthia asking me to come in to talk immediately. In her office, the air feels less chilly than usual. A big arrangement of purple and white lilies graces her desk, and with it a note apparently from our publisher. She eyes me checking out the card.

  “July was our biggest seller yet,” she says evenly. “Ten percent better than last year on the newsstand. I’m sure it was because of your handling of the last-minute tiger-French mom cover story. Here’s to happy accidents.

  “There have been a bunch of last-minute projects on which you’ve really burned the midnight oil,” she starts. “I know it’s been tough, but I see you logging the time to get the details and quotes that make these stories stand out. It’s a quality I look for in all my top editors. That’s what sells magazines,” says Cynthia with a smile that reaches her eyes. Her warmth feels genuine.

  “Liz, I wanted you to be the first to know. Once you come back, I’m giving you the promotion and title change we spoke about. You’ll be handling the news features entirely. Not just writing and editing, but top-editing junior staffers, as well. It would be in addition to the front-of-book pages you’ve already got, but I’ll make sure some of Caitlyn’s time is available to support you.”

  “Well, sure, of course. That sounds great,” I stumble over my words a bit, for fear of making a misstep. “But doesn’t Alix cover news features?”

  “I told you, I’ve been rethinking things a bit around here.” Her smile morphs into a conspiratorial grin. “She’s a bit preoccupied at the moment,” she says slowly. “I’d rather you take some of it off of her plate—officially. She’ll now be working from home a day or two a week, so I think it’s best if she handles some of the beauty and fashion features that don’t need last-minute attention.”

  Wow. This is a huge political land mine. Alix is out and I am in. She has just gone from being one of Cynthia’s right-hand editors to joining the women on staff with a “special deal.”