Tales of a Sibby Slicker

by Samantha Garman

  “Don’t try to nippulate me into distraction,” I stated, pointing to his sculpted chest.

  “I love the city,” he began. “You know that.”

  I nodded. We both loved the city. Sure, it was congested and expensive, and sometimes we saw inappropriate things on the subway, but what city didn’t have its issues? At least ours had good food and culture. And our best friends.

  “You’re ready for a dog. That’s what this conversation is about,” I said. “Your puppy parent genes are kicking in. We can get a dog. A cute little rescue pup. I’m game. Let’s—”

  “I want a kid,” he blurted out.

  I blinked. “I need you to repeat that.”

  He took a deep breath and sat up, placed his hands on my crossed legs, and looked into my eyes. “I want a kid.”

  “With me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, Sibby. With Mrs. Nowacki. Of course you.”

  “I think if her parts were still working, she’d be totally game.” Our seventy-five-year-old Polish neighbor was hot for Aidan.

  I looked around for the rest of my clothes. It was suddenly too hot in the tent, and I needed to escape.

  “Sibby—”

  “Just one question. Have you been talking to my mom?”

  He shook his head. “No way.”

  “Really? Because you both seem keen on this kid idea.”

  “This isn’t about your mother. This is about us and what we want.”

  “I’m not ready,” I stated. “I’m not ready to quit drinking or to eat my meat well done. Or give up oysters and certain types of cheese. I’m not ready to be all healthy and together and go to prenatal yoga and drink kale smoothies.”

  “You don’t have to go to prenatal yoga and drink kale smoothies,” Aidan said, blue eyes wide and searching.

  “Yes,” I nodded with emphasis. “I do. Because I won’t do it unless I do it right. Our kid deserves not to be born with three heads.”

  Aidan ran a hand across his mouth, trying to hide his smile and failing. “See, you’d make a great mom.”

  “I’m not ready, okay? My career… I just got my dream, Aidan. I get to tell dirty stories for a living. Please don’t ask me to put it on the back burner. Not yet.”

  “I’d never ask that of you. You know that, right?”

  “I do.” I looked away, hating that I was the one who had to tell him no—not forever, but just for right now. “But here’s the thing, my career will go on the back burner. It’s inevitable. I already work from home. You work sixty hours a week out of the house. So please, Aidan. Can we wait?”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to put a time stamp on it.” Everyone always talked about a woman’s biological clock, but it had nothing on a guy who was ready.

  Aidan managed to slide into his jeans and then buckled his belt. He threw on his flannel, covering his delectable body from my sight.

  I sighed. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “Come here,” he said, his voice soft. I collapsed against his chest and pressed my closed lids to soft, worn flannel. “I’m not mad. Not at all.”

  We fell silent as Aidan stroked my hair. Though he was understanding now, I wondered how much time I had before Aidan got antsy and brought up the kid talk again.

  Chapter 4

  #check4critters #glamptastic #noshowersnoservice

  True to his word, Aidan cooked me dinner while I sat by a campfire (which he had also made). I couldn’t get our earlier conversation out of my head, and I desperately needed my friends.

  Part of me wondered if Aidan had dropped the kid bomb on me while we were in the middle of nowhere, so I’d have no one to freak out to, forcing me to talk to him about it. But sometimes, you needed your gang of girls to talk to.

  My friend had moved with her husband and toddler to Houston to be closer to her parents, and as someone who’d had motherhood accidentally thrust upon her, I thought she’d be a good person to talk to. I dug out my cell phone, silently rejoicing when I saw that I had one bar. I fired off a text, but the screen immediately read, Message failed to send.

  “Damn!” I lifted the phone higher, trying to find service.

  “Who are you trying to text?” Aidan called to me from the trailer. “Annie?”

  “Natalie,” I called back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

  There! One bar!

  I held my phone over my head until I heard the swoosh sound of the message sending.

  “Success!” I walked to the trailer and watched Aidan stir a wooden spoon in a pot. “Whew. I feel like I really earned that. What are we eating?”

  “Chili.”

  “From a can?”

  “From my mother.”

  “Oooh. This’ll be good.”

  Aidan held up the spoon to give me a taste. I blew on it and then sampled. “Yep. Knew it. Best chili ever.”

  He took a small bite. “Needs some salt.” After grinding some salt into the pot, he began to stir again. “So you’re still freaking out, huh?”

  “Oh yeah,” I admitted blithely.

  “And since Natalie has a baby, you thought to text her over Annie.”

  “Annie would tell Caleb.”

  Aidan kept his eyes on his task. “Caleb knows.”

  “Oh, he does, does he? How many people knew what you wanted before I knew what you wanted?”

  “Just Caleb,” he assured me. Pause. “And my older sisters.”

  “Both of them?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “And my mom. But that’s it, I swear.”

  I inhaled a breath. “As long as you didn’t tell my mom. I’d never hear the end of it.”

  “I have to say, you’re taking my admission rather well.”

  “I’ve had two beers since you’ve told me. I’m sedated.”

  “Ah.”

  I looked around the campsite. “Aidan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have to—I think you know.”

  He grinned. “There’s a shovel. You can dig a hole.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He laughed, a booming sound that was loud in the otherwise quiet forest. “Yeah, I’m kidding. There’s a tent over yonder.” He pointed with the wooden spoon and I looked. Sure enough, there was a blue tent with a zipper.

  “Over yonder?” I teased. “You can take the boy out of the country… Seriously?” I marveled. “You have a loo tent?”

  “Told ya. My mom likes to be comfortable.”

  “God bless your mother,” I started in the direction of the tent.

  “Sibby!” Aidan called.

  I turned. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t forget to check for critters!”

  “Just say no to bugs!” I called back, smiling. Halfway to the loo tent, I stopped and looked at him. “You kinda lied to me.”

  “Did I?”

  “This isn’t camping—this is glamping.”

  He grinned. “I know my audience.”

  “Now if only I had my computer.”

  “You can’t write by hand?” Aidan asked.

  I blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Yeah. Totally kidding,” he backtracked.

  “Liar.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I packed your computer.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He looked immensely pleased with himself. “I did. I know you. I know when you need to write, you need to write.”

  “But how will I be able to charge it?”

  “This trailer has a generator, Sib. Remember?”

  “I’m stupid in love with you. You know that right?”

  He laughed.

  “You don’t have a couch hiding out in that Mary Poppins trailer?” I asked with a wide grin and a lot of hope.

  “Sorry. You’ll have to settle for the camp chairs. Now, go do your thing and then come back. Dinner is almost ready.”

  I got to the loo tent, and my phone chimed. Apparently we weren’t as o
ff the grid as Aidan would’ve had me believe. I opened my screen.

  Hi! The monster has been projectile vomiting all day. It’s in my hair, in the carpet, on the dog. He’s fine, but I’m a bit tied up. Talk soon?

  Projectile vomit. Eeshk. If that wasn’t a billboard for birth control, I didn’t know what was.

  The sun started to set, and the temperature began to drop, so I snuggled into Aidan’s side while we looked up at the stars, the fire blazing. I’d forgotten how clear and bright they were—there was too much light pollution from the city to ever be able to see the stars, even on a cloudless night.

  “This is nice,” I murmured, resting my head against his shoulder.

  “It is,” he agreed, cuddling me closer.

  “Know what’s missing?”

  “Hmm?”

  “A dog.”

  He chuckled. “You think a furry baby will distract me from wanting a human baby?”

  “Is that such a terrible idea? Think about it. The dog could hang out with you at the bar. It could be the Veritas mascot.”

  “I like that idea. But I also like the idea of a tiny human.”

  “Nat had to clean up projectile vomit today—because her own tiny human puked everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere.”

  He laughed. “That’s a kid for you.”

  Aidan didn’t sound at all appalled, which meant I was failing at misdirection. I dangled the dog carrot and had only gotten a nibble.

  “Dogs are easier,” I said. “They potty train really fast.”

  “I get it, Sibby. You’re not ready. I’m okay with that.” He looked down at me and kissed my lips.

  It was going to be one of those things, though, that kept popping up in conversations and fights. And if the idea of projectile vomit didn’t scare him off, then I knew he was totally serious.

  Aidan was ready for a kid.

  I was ready for bourbon.

  I woke up to roving hands trying to work their way under my T-shirt. “Psst,” Aidan whispered. “You awake?”

  Cracking an eyelid, I licked my dry lips. “Someone’s frisky in the morning,” I commented.

  His hands headed south, and though I was half-asleep, needed coffee and a good tooth-brushing, I couldn’t say I was disappointed by Aidan’s attention.

  “I feel like a man out here.”

  His pants were already down, and I felt his hard length against me. “Guess you don’t need any caffeine.”

  “What do you say?” He grinned, blue eyes twinkling with good humor. “Up for an early morning romp?”

  I looped my arms around his neck. “Persuade me.”

  An hour later, we were finishing breakfast, a happy smile on both our faces. “You ready to go on that walk?”

  “No way to get out of it, huh?” I teased.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  I liked fun—in the form of sitting. The crisp day was quickly warming up, and the idea of walking hand-in-hand so Aidan could show me one of his favorite spots was definitely appealing.

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  It was amazing what you could hear when there weren’t any distractions. No garbage trucks, no construction workers, no dogs barking. All I heard was the wind in the trees, an occasional call of a bird as leaves crunched under our booted feet.

  “So,” I asked, the path allowing us to walk shoulder to shoulder. “Have you tried contacting Caleb?”

  Aidan threw me a sheepish grin. “I might have checked in with him.”

  I laughed. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

  “I’m impressed, though, Sibby. You’ve only reached for your phone a few times.”

  “I made a ‘Sibby in the Wild’ video last night and posted it to Instagram.”

  “When did you do this?” he wondered.

  “You were already asleep.” I winked. “I know which tree to stand by to get cell service.”

  “You know what this reminds me of?” Aidan took my hand and brought my knuckles to his lips.

  “What?” I knew my cheeks were flushed. Not from the exercise, but from how Aidan was looking at me. Like he wanted to make very good use of the large boulders. Apparently, nature made Aidan insatiable. Hmmm. Something to consider.

  “This reminds me of our honeymoon.”

  “This does not look like Italy.”

  “I know that, smart ass,” he quipped. “But remember how we walked hand-in-hand down cobblestone streets, laughing, talking, just being with each other.”

  I sighed as beautiful memories filled my head. “Yeah. I do remember.”

  “Sometimes I feel like we’re fighting so many things for each other’s attention. You know?”

  “I guess,” I said, a bit uncomfortable. “You don’t think—are we in a rut?”

  “Not a rut, per se, but—it’s nice, Sib. Having you all to myself. No book deadlines. No bar. None of that. Just you and me.”

  I didn’t want to bring up the kid conversation again, but it seemed inevitable. “A baby complicates everything, Aidan. If what you’re saying is true, that we don’t spend enough time together, we’ll have even less if we have a baby.”

  We stopped walking and Aidan dropped my hand. He stared off into the trees, like he was searching for the words that would make sense to me.

  “I feel like something is missing,” he admitted quietly.

  My breath hitched.

  “No,” he stated with emphasis, nearly yanking me into his arms, crushing me against him so I didn’t tromp away. “I don’t mean with you. I just feel—I don’t know. What I’m doing, the bar, the rat race, I feel like it’s meaningless. It’s all bullshit. I want a family. I’m ready for a family.”

  I didn’t say anything for a long time. We stood on the forest path at a literal fork in the road I hadn’t seen. There were only two directions to go—both forward, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to take either of them.

  “When we met,” I said slowly, “my whole life had just gone up in flames. I’d never lived with that kind of…instability.”

  “You fought me, you know. Being with me.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I fought you. I fought myself. I’d just gotten out of a relationship, and I wanted to figure out who I was before being part of a couple again. What I felt for you back then”—I looked at him—“how fast I fell for you.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know if it was real, or if I was just making another shitty life choice.”

  He smiled. “How long did you wait for the shoe to drop?”

  I grinned playfully. “Still waiting. You can’t be this amazing.”

  “Sure I can,” he teased.

  My smile slipped. “I want to give you everything you want. But Aidan…” I took another deep breath. “I’m not ready to give up that last piece of me. We have a baby and everything changes. We change.”

  His blue eyes were earnest. “For the better, though. Don’t you think? Sometimes you just have to leap; otherwise you’re stuck in the same place. I don’t want to be stuck.”

  “Why do people have kids? Answer me that.”

  “Because they want them,” he said simply. “Do you want a family, Sibby?”

  “I have a family.” My words were slow, careful. “What we’re doing now, our lives, it’s enough for me. I’d like a dog. I wasn’t joking about that.”

  Aidan’s eyes remained locked on mine. “Are you saying you might actually not want to have kids?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want the pressure. I get enough of that from my mother.”

  “When have I pressured you?”

  “You haven’t,” I stated. “Not in the real sense. But knowing you’re ready and I’m not, that now lurks in the back of my head.”

  Did I want kids? Maybe. In the vague sense of the word. But most of our friends in New York didn’t have them. It wasn’t only okay to be childless; it was understood.

  “So what do we do?” Aidan asked, face a shield—a shield I saw through.

  “Ri
ght now? We walk.”

  I picked the left fork and hoped it got us where we wanted to be.

  Chapter 5

  #arewedoneyet

  We fell into an uncomfortable silence as we kept walking deeper and deeper into the woods. Though both of us tried to pretend we hadn’t had a deep heart-to-heart in the middle of the woods, we couldn’t sweep it under the forest floor.

  Aidan was ready for kids.

  I wasn’t.

  I wasn’t even sure I wanted them. I enjoyed doing what I wanted when I wanted to do it. Both of us worked like maniacs—and we’d only been married a year. I’d hoped to have a few more years alone together before we changed the family dynamic.

  If we had a kid now, would I resent Aidan? Would I resent the baby?

  See? I was not in any rational frame of mind to even consider procreating.

  “Are we almost there?” I asked Aidan who was walking a few steps ahead of me.

  “Yeah. We’re almost there.” He didn’t turn around to look at me.

  I swallowed a lump of tears in my throat and continued to trek after him. Ten minutes later, Aidan reached down to help me up onto a boulder. The hike had been mild, and it had felt like we’d only managed to do a steady incline, but it turned out that we were on the side of a mountain. Aidan had promised me a view of a waterfall, and he’d more than delivered. Afternoon sunlight glinted in golden speckles as the water slathered the rocks and then pooled below.

  “Oh, wow,” I breathed.

  Aidan finally looked at me. His shoulders slouched as he released the tension. “Come here,” he said, voice as rough as the rocks.

  I moved into his embrace and snuggled against him. “I don’t want to lose you.” The words were garbled from emotion, but I knew he heard me by the way he held me tighter.

  “You won’t.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. I’ll make you another promise.” He leaned back so he could stare down into my eyes, and his hands came up to cup my cheeks. “I promise I won’t say any more about it on this trip. This trip will just be for us.”

  I inhaled a watery breath as tears continued to spill down my cheeks. “Sometimes I don’t think I deserve you.”