by Lara Swann
He sets the salad down on the table, bringing over another bottle of the sparkling non-wine drink before pulling what smells deliciously like lasagna out of the oven.
“Ooh…” I don’t hide my interest as he dishes up a couple of plates, adding a generous amount of garlic bread to each, before bringing them over. “This smells amazing. I love lasagna.”
He grins and I look down at the somewhat intimidating portion in front of me.
“Just how much do you think I eat?” I laugh as he sits down opposite me, lighting the candle in between us.
It’s sweet and kind of silly romantic, but I kind of like it.
“You’re eating for two now.” He points out. “I had to make sure there was enough for the baby as well.”
I roll my eyes at him. I was wondering how long he’d be able to go without mentioning the baby.
Not long.
Not that I can entirely blame him. It feels like my little one is all I’ve thought about ever since I found out.
“It’s a baby.” I retort. “Not a full grown adult. I don’t think it’s needing these kind of portions.”
“C’mon, isn’t half the point of pregnancy was to be able to eat whatever you want and have an excuse for getting fat?”
I burst out laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy voice that opinion.
“That’s what Katy always said about it, anyway.”
“Vicki said much the same.” I mutter, still amused as I finally lean in to try a bite. “Oh wow, Damien, this is amazing. You’re a seriously good cook. Maybe I’ll eat it all after all.”
He laughs, reaching across to take my hand for a moment, and despite my interest in using that hand to eat more of the lasagna, I let him. I can see how pleased he is with my reaction by the warm glow in his eyes, and for a moment we just look at each other. It might be a pretty weird situation that got us here, but for some reason it doesn’t feel that way. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is what we would have done all along, eventually.
He squeezes my hand before letting go, and then finally starts eating himself.
“If I could have taken you out, we would have gone to my favorite restaurant in Fresno. This tiny little Italian place with just a few tables and the best damn food in the whole city. I thought I’d try and give you a little taste of that, even if I can’t quite live up to Roberto’s cooking.”
“This seems like a pretty good attempt.” I say, appreciating the hearty food immensely. “I’m not so sure I’d be able to tell the difference.”
“You’ll see.” His eyes sparkle at me. “When I do take you out there, you’ll see.”
“When, hm? You’re just full of plans.”
“Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.”
Somehow, I believe that. I don’t know whether I should say something about making all these plans without me, way too prematurely, but I don’t. I think I like it.
We continue eating some of the best food I’ve had in a long time - sorry Vicki - and I’m surprised at how easily and smoothly the conversation flows. I probably shouldn’t be. It’s not like any of the brief time we’ve spent together, we’ve had any problems talking to each other. But some part of me thought this was going to be awkward, however attracted to him I might be.
He tells me about Emily and all of the travels she’s been on recently - as well as what it’s like to adjust to having her back again. It’s obvious with everything he says how much he cares for her, and I can’t help picturing the sort of affection he’d have as a father…
Yeah. It’s not just him thinking about your baby.
He also tells me more about Katy - and I hadn’t realized how close they are, or how much history they share - and all about the frustrating false-starts he had in trying to make a success out of Indivest. In turn, I talk about my design work and how I struggled through college to get experience, to start working freelance, to have some sort of prospect when I left. I don’t quite admit that it’s only recently that it started working out for me.
By the time I’m so full I can’t manage another bite, there’s still almost a third of the lasagna left on my plate and I shake my head at Damien’s idea of appropriate portion sizes. I sit back in the chair, warm and full and relaxed in a way I can’t remember feeling as there’s a small lull in our conversation. Something about good food and good company, it just makes everything seem so much easier.
Eventually though, he looks up at me, and there’s something deeper in his expression.
“I want to ask you something.” He says softly, his eyes lingering on mine in a way that sends a tingle of renewed alertness down my spine.
“Mm?” I ask, feeling a little cautious.
He leans forward to take my hand and I let him, enjoying the way his larger hand fits around mine, the warm touch of our skin together.
“Why do you want to give this baby up for adoption?” He says, the serious green depths of his eyes capturing mine.
I hesitate, feeling like I want to pull back suddenly, but he turns my hand over, his thumb stroking the palm in small circles.
“I just want to understand, Ava, to know what you’re thinking. That’s all.”
I take a deep breath. He deserves an explanation. I know that. It’s just hard…to admit to it all. To tell him things about me - and my life - that if I’m honest with myself, I’m a little ashamed of.
“I mean, if you don’t want children…”
“It’s not that.” I say immediately, before I can stop it.
The comment only makes it more obvious that I have to explain.
No, it’s not that at all.
I glance to the side, breaking eye contact as I bite my lip and try to find the right words.
I don’t want him to think less of me. To know…but he has to know. That’s the only way he’s going to understand.
“It’s not that. It’s just…it’s not the right time.”
He just continues looking at me, not trying to interrupt with an argument, so I continue.
“I can’t give this baby the kind of life it deserves.” I admit, the words feeling bitter in my throat even as I say them. “I can’t support it - I don’t have a stable job, and if I keep the baby, what little chance I have at getting one will probably disappear—”
“But…” I can tell he doesn’t want to interrupt, but he’s obviously confused. “What’s wrong with your job? Two-Bit seems like a decent company to work for and you seem to be doing well there…”
I shake my head and he trails off as I hesitate for a moment. I’m not entirely sure what Two-Bit expect but I don’t think they’d be pleased about me telling a client that the team he hired isn’t entirely permanent employees, but screw it. This isn’t about business - and besides, using contractors is fairly standard practice.
“I’m not a permanent employee - Two-Bit contracted me for this project, because of the size of team you needed, but after it’s over…well, I don’t have an ongoing contract.” I take a deep breath and meet his gaze again. “It’s why this job is so important to me. I was—I am—hoping that afterward, they might offer me a more permanent position. If I make a good impression. It’s part of the reason I was so scared about anyone finding out about…”
I gesture broadly between us, only now our relationship includes the baby as well. God, it feels like there are so many things I’m trying to keep secret. It’s exhausting.
“Before that, I mainly did freelance work. They liked a couple of the pieces I’d done for them before, so put me on the list of people they contact when they need additional support, but this is the first project I’ve had from them since. I really need it to be a success. It’s the only real chance I’ve had to get into the industry I’ve wanted to work in all my life.”
“And with a baby…” He murmurs, and I don’t like the sympathy in his eyes.
“If I’m taking time out to care for a newborn baby, I doubt very much they’re going to offer me a permanent position - or that I
’d be in a position to take it.” I say, then pause. That’s not quite it though. It’s not like I want to give up my baby to have a chance at this job…that doesn’t feel right. Truthfully, if it came down to a choice between the job and my baby…I’m not at all sure I would pick the job I’ve wanted all my life. “But…it’s more that it feels like a catch twenty-two. Without the job, I can’t support the baby. With the baby, I can’t get the job. So…I have nothing to offer it. I won’t have be able to give the time and attention it deserves if I’m scrambling with freelance work and part time jobs - I can’t offer stability or security or anything. I’m barely managing my own life as it is.”
It’s so hard to actually admit that - to say it out loud to someone whose opinion suddenly feels very important to me - but it’s the truth, and there’s some part of me that feels relieved to have it out there.
“I can’t have a baby right now.” I say again, shaking my head, even though the idea of it bites at me. “It’s not fair to it.”
Damien hasn’t stopped stroking my hand this whole time, and the comfort of that warms me, even as I’m forced to think again about what the future means.
“You wouldn’t be alone, though.” His voice comes as a gentle murmur. “You’d have my support too - you both would - and I’ll give you whatever you need.”
“How can you possibly know that?” I ask, aggravated, as I pull my hand back from his, my gaze rising to his face again. “It’s been lovely, tonight, but it’s just one date. What happens if this doesn’t work out between us? I don’t want to be one of those couples who end up hating each other because they feel they have to get together for the baby. I couldn’t do that - and I couldn’t do it to my baby either.”
“We wouldn’t.” He says, and the certainty in his voice is enough to make me pause in my frustration. “If it doesn’t work out between us, it doesn’t work out. We won’t force it. But I trust you to be willing and friendly enough about it to find a way to co-parent with me, for our baby’s sake if nothing else.”
It’s hard to wrap my mind around anything he’s saying. The idea of negotiating how this is going to work, every little eventuality for how we might raise a child together…it’s too much.
“You don’t know me.” I point out.
How does he know what he can trust me to do?
“I know enough.” The depth of sincerity in his eyes pulls me back in. “I know that you’re hard-working and determined, that you care about what you do - and that you’re passionate about it all. I know you’re sweet and sexy and thoughtful - and you want to do what’s right. I know enough, Ava.”
I stare at him, feeling the flush rise up my face as I hear his passion while he speaks. I never…I’ve never had anyone talk to me like that.
“I haven’t known you long and I haven’t spent much time with you - I know that. Not nearly as much as I would have liked to before having a child with someone. But some things…some things you don’t need all that time to be able to see.” His voice is soft, but almost mesmerizing, and then he raises an eyebrow at me. “How about you? What do you know about me?”
I blink, caught up enough in what he was saying that I don’t expect the sudden question, and take a sip from my wine glass to give me a moment to think.
When I feel like I can think again, I try to disperse some of the intensity that seems to have built between us during this discussion.
“Just the positive things, huh?”
He chuckles. “Oh, I can think of a few others if you like. You’re also infuriatingly stubborn and not nearly as amenable as you should be to doing what I’d like.”
That makes me snort in outrage.
“Oh really?” My eyes flash at him, but I can’t help the amusement. “So, what I know about you, then? Well, you’re arrogant, absolutely determined to get your way and persistent to the point of madness.”
“I’m not hearing anything bad.” He smirks at me and I roll my eyes at him.
He reaches over to take my hand again, leaning forward.
“Ava…” He says, his voice more serious again. “Do you trust me?”
I hold his gaze for a long time.
That’s really what it all comes down to, isn’t it? Trust.
I feel warm as I think of it, a heat coming up from deep inside me that wants to say ‘yes’, that feels right now that I could trust the man in front of me with anything. Even my baby’s future. Our baby.
But…but as I open my mouth, I find myself frozen. The risk of what might happen if I’m wrong - if my trust is wrong - is just too high to contemplate. All the things that could go wrong spiral through my mind. Can I really gamble on this feeling - with my baby’s future?
“I…I don’t know.” I finally say, even though disappointment rocks through me.
Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I take the leap and just believe him when he says it’s all going to work out?
He nods slowly, then squeezes my hand with a small smile.
“I’m glad you’re honest about it.” His thumb caresses my knuckles again before he leans back in his chair. “I’ll show you that you can, Ava, I promise.”
I nod, my face heating as I feel slightly awkward. He’s being lovely and kind and generous and…I feel like I’m not doing what I’m supposed to do. I’m not entirely sure what that is, but I don’t feel like I’m giving what he deserves in return.
“But for the record.” He adds, and I glance up again. “If you do decide that your only option is to give our baby up for adoption - I’m the one that’s going to adopt it.”
I stare at him for a moment, my mouth opening but not making any noise.
Oh my god.
Somehow, I’d never thought about that.
A slow smile spreads across his face. “And, of course, you’ll be able to see it whenever you want and be as involved as you’d like in our lives.”
I pause, then squint at him suspiciously as a slow feeling spreads across my chest.
“That sounds an awful lot like what you were suggesting we do anyway.”
His smile widens, and then he shrugs. “With a bit more added legalese. It’s my baby too, Ava. I have a right to be able to raise it.”
I can hear the determination in his voice - and besides, I can’t really argue with him about that. I don’t even think I want to. If anything, the idea gives me a kind of warmth and reassurance that I don’t think I’ve had since I first found out I was pregnant.
I still sigh though, looking at him, somehow knowing that one way or another he’s going to get whatever he wants. I imagine he always does. I wonder whether I should just accept his idea of how this is going to go right now.
“Don’t you ever think about what could go wrong?” I ask him quietly.
“I believe anything can work out if you put the time and effort into it, if you do it with the best intentions. I’ve had to, my whole life, or I would have given up a long time ago. There’s power in the way we think, Ava, in what we believe might happen.” He meets my eyes, intent and sincere. “Do you ever think about what could go right?”
I swallow, the moment lingering between us as everything I’ve always heard about myself comes back to me. Everything Vicki is always telling me about how much I over-think and worry unnecessarily. How many times she’s told me just to live a little. It’s true, I know that, but I’ve never been able to help the way my over-active mind plays out.
“No.” I say honestly. “No, not really. But…maybe I’d like to.”
He smiles and stands up to come around to where I’m sitting, leaning against the edge of the table and stroking one of my curls back from my face.
“I’ll look forward to showing you then.”
He tugs me closer and I move willingly, standing to step into the small gap between his thighs and lean against the firm mass of his chest. My hands drop to his sides as he tilts my head in toward his, our mouths meeting again. I can taste the hint of deeply flavored lasagna, and just a little bit of su
gar from the sweet sparkling drink he found - as well as his own unique taste.
I moan softly, moving closer until I can feel his whole body against mine and his other arm is wrapping around me, bringing me closer. This time the kiss isn’t demanding or desperate or fast - it’s a slow, steady exploration that fits the discussion we were just having. It almost feels like a promise, a hint of things to come.
And despite myself, despite the crazy analysis my brain jumps to at every opportunity…I find myself believing that promise.
“Thank you for dinner.” I murmur softly, when we finally part, holding his gaze with my own.
“You’re welcome.”
I love the feel of his hands on my skin, the way he touches my face and neck and hair, it just sends little tingles of anticipation and heat straight through me. I find myself aching with longing for him - for the kind of night we’ve only had twice, and for so much more. For what I thought was developing between us only a week, before it got complicated.
“You know…you never took me on a tour of the house.” I say, not hiding the suggestion behind it, and he chuckles.
“I didn’t.” He leans in to kiss me again. “Quite deliberately. I think I know what would happen once we found a certain room…”
“And…?” I ask, not seeing any problem whatsoever.
It’s not like Vicki was expecting me back tonight anyway.
“And I told you - I want to do this properly.” His gaze lingers on mine, full of warmth and so much more, even as I start to frown.
“This isn’t properly?”
He shakes his head. “This was about getting to know you, Ava. Slowly. It’s different. Not like those other nights.”
I think back to the only other time we’ve spent together - the mind-blowing fun that it was. And, reluctantly, I get it. I don’t want this to feel like tonight was just a prelude to sex either.
“Let me drive you home.” He says, after a few moments. “And then take you out again soon.”
I smile. “By ‘take me out’, you mean invite me back here, right?”
He smiles too. “Right. At least until you’re ready to shout about this to the world. I don’t care what they think at work, you know that.”