Giving Up for You

by L. M. Carr

  “I brought you a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?” he asks as he sits down.

  “Uh . . . no thanks.”

  “You sure? It’s your favorite.”

  “I’m pr . . . I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t drink when I’m babysitting someone else’s kid.”

  Except for the quiet moans of delight with each bite of food, silence envelops us while we eat our delicious dinner. The mood is relatively light although tension, either nervous or sexual, lurks in all four corners of the small, rectangular room. As if I need any more calories or taste, I reach for grated cheese just as he does. His fingers cover mine and our eyes meet. I gasp loudly. I’m pretty sure he heard it, too. A surge of energy electrifies from my fingertips, into my arm, through my body before finally finding its place between my legs. I throb instantly.

  “We still have it.” Dark eyes that can reach into my soul stare at me. There’s no point in denying it. There are some people in this world who just connect, who can turn each other’s worlds upside down with a mere look or touch. We are those people. He is my soul mate. He’s the other half of me. I know it’s more than just chemistry; it’s desire. It’s need.

  “We do,” I confirm with a small voice and a sad nod. I feel sad because I don’t think it will ever wane. We will always be connected, even if it’s for the sake of our child.

  When I make an attempt to pull my hand away, he takes hold of my pinky and locks it in place between his fingers. Applying the smallest amount of pressure to my finger, he whispers, “Please don’t let go.” So I don’t. A million emotions race in my veins. Of all of them, love takes the lead. We finish our meal in silence, each of us using only one hand, as our hands remain joined on the table.

  “That was delicious. Thank you.” I smile. I push the empty plate away from me before letting my hand fall to my belly. “I’m going to be in a carb coma pretty soon.”

  “I’ll be there when you wake up.” He grins.

  I can’t help the laughter that erupts from the pit of my belly. “That has to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard! Pete would never let you live that one down.” The images of the two of them arguing playfully over who had the better pick up lines brings a huge smile to my face.

  “I know, but it’s true,” he concedes, not looking away from me. “Mia, I would wait for you.” He looks down at our joined hands and his thumb traces over the vacant spot where my diamond engagement ring once sat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I finally pull my hand away and sit up with my elbows propped on the table in front of me. “So tell me something. What do you think is going to happen?”

  Sadness, hope and longing are combined in the look on his face. “I honestly don’t know. You have to tell me. I know what I want, but it’s your call. It’s up to you.”

  “I don’t trust you.” I hold my gaze, confessing. Just saying the words makes my heart ache.

  “I know you don’t.” Sympathy for broken trust mars his face.

  “You broke my heart.”

  “And mine, too,” he confesses.

  I inhale sharply at his honest words and look away as I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I swipe at it and realize that my face is soaked. I need a minute. I need to step away and think.

  From my peripheral vision I see him run his palms over his face as he clears his throat.

  I stand quickly to gather our plates and walk quietly into the kitchen. I go about rinsing the dishes off before I put them in the dishwasher. I know he’s following me. I can feel him.

  Like he has the right to, he slides in behind me and pulls me to him, pressing his hard chest into my back. And like a fool, I let him. I wish I could rewind time to the night of his birthday and change the course of events. I wish he never had gotten that phone call, I wish he never went to the bar. I wish he never left. A final thought saddens me though. If I could have altered things, I wouldn’t be carrying this little life which is the perfect combination of the two of us.

  Immediately, I twirl around and wrap my arms around his neck, stepping on tiptoes to reach his neck so I can inhale his familiar scent. My nose skims the smooth skin and I place a single kiss on his chin. He lowers his head and his eyes drop to my mouth. I don’t know why I let my eyes close and raise my lips. I want to kiss him. I want to feel him. I want to love him.

  Soft, full lips meet mine and my tongue slips out looking for its mate. His hand lowers to the small of my back while the other cups my face. He offers me the softest, slowest, yet passionate kiss in history and I melt. Joy and happiness spill over in my heart. His lips apologize to mine for their absence. His mouth is warm and wonderful. My body goes into overdrive while my fingers run through his short hair and over his smooth face. I feel like I could eat him alive. My desire. My need for him is almost too much to bear. I know he senses it.

  Kiss. “We.” Kiss. “Should.” Kiss. “Stop.” As if on a cool down period on the treadmill, he slows the pace and brings me back to reality. I want to scream and ask him why. But I already know the answer.

  My eyes lower as does my head and I nod in agreement. I want to beg for just one more. Just one more touch of his lips. Just one more lick of his tongue. It’s so hard to imagine that I had this every day. I could touch him whenever I wanted. I could kiss him whenever I wanted. I could devour him whenever I wanted.

  “We need to talk, Mia.” He tips my chin upward and my eyes open. “I don’t ever want you to think that I just want you for that sexy, little body of yours.” He smiles, playfully. “Believe me, I want that little body of yours just as much as I always have, but not like this. Not here.”

  I feel dejected, having almost lost my senses a few minutes ago. And then I laugh. “Who are you? The old Ad-” I swallow hard. “The old you would’ve jumped at the chance to fuck me.”

  “First of all, I have never fucked you. Even when I had you all tied up bent in unimaginable ways, took you in a damn storage closet or on the couch in my office, I’ve always made love to you.” His hard expression softens. “Always.”

  I know he’s referring to the last time we were together in his office, not the countless other times when I watched him work and somehow ended up beneath him.

  Soft noises and cooing interrupts us from the dining room. MJ is awake, but I decide to leave him alone to pacify himself for a bit while I finish cleaning up. We move succinctly around the kitchen like people who’ve been doing this for years. We know each other’s next move.

  The ringing of his phone has him excusing himself to take the call. He steps out of the kitchen and onto the back porch. I see him smile and nod, answering the questions with ease and comfort. Of course, annoyance and jealousy spike through me. I listen carefully through the open kitchen window. He catches me looking and utters, “Hold on,” into the phone. My face flushes with embarrassment when he walks in and hands me the phone. “Here. She wants to talk to you.” What the hell? I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t even know who she is and instantly I hate her.

  I shake my head back and forth with narrowed eyes.

  “Trust me.” He places the phone by my ear. I can’t understand why he’s torturing me. What does she have to say to me? And why does he want me to hear it?

  “Hello?” I shoot daggers at him while I acknowledge the person on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, Mia!” Maddie’s sweet, angelic voice greets me and immediately I smile. “Hi, sweetheart.” I take the phone from his hand and mouth “jerk” to him, walking away while she tells me all about her time with her grandparents. Before he walks into the dining room, he kisses the side of my head and says, “I told you to trust me.” I can’t see his face, but I’m sure he’s smiling. He thinks it’s funny. I, however, do not.

  I can hear MJ fussing; his patience at having to keep himself entertained is over and was short lived. I watch Adam lift the baby carefully and cradle him against his chest. The image is priceless. For having two children of his own, he looks painfully awkward like he’s
afraid the infant is fragile and might break. I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder and reach for the little one, only to be told that he’s fine and that I should continue with my conversation.

  Luke gets on the phone and tells me about fishing with his grandpa and how he can’t wait to paddleboard on the lake when he gets back in a few days. We chat for a few more minutes until he asks to speak to his father. “I love you too, bud.” I choke back a sob before I hand the phone to his dad.

  I grab the diaper bag and take the baby from him. While he finishes the conversation with his kids, I change the baby, dodging a spray of pee when his diaper is removed. I can’t help but laugh as I scramble to cover him up.

  I look up to find him watching me with a small smile on his face. “I love to see you smile.”

  “That wasn’t right. What you did before.” He looks confused but then must realize what I’m talking about.

  “Were you jealous?” His voice sings playfully, teasing me as he walks over and lowers himself on the couch so close that his thigh rubs against mine.

  “I wasn’t jealous. You just don’t need to rub it in my face that you’ve had lots of women. You’re a free man. You can do whatever you like with whomever you like.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that to me. We both know that’s not true; I am not a free man. I am bound to you. I always have been and I always will be.” His eyes penetrate mine.

  I have no answer for that. Although the fact is we are bound to each other in a way that he just doesn’t know about yet.

  With MJ sitting on my lap, resting against my belly, I turn to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course. You can ask me anything. You know that.”

  Asking and receiving are two very different things. I have so many questions for him and while I have the liberty to ask, it doesn’t mean that he will give me the answers I seek.

  “Why did you come back after you left? Mrs. Longo thinks you’ve been here a few different times. Is that true?”

  “It’s true.”

  “And on my birthday? Why were you at the bar?” I think I’ve shocked him with my question.

  “I had to see you.” He looks away like he doesn’t want to say anything else. “I followed you that whole day after I saw you walk home from Maple’s. It killed me that you were alone and sad on your birthday.”

  “I wasn’t alone,” I spit the words out before I can stop them. It pisses me off that Mrs. Longo was right; he was checking up on me.

  “Who were you with?”

  My cheeks flush with a form of embarrassment or maybe shame. “I was with Shane.”

  His eyes open wide and then narrow into slits. “Motherfucker.”

  “Why are you calling him that? He’s been a really good friend to me.”

  “I’m sure he has.” Sarcasm drips from his voice.

  “He has. I’m serious.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend Shane. Yes, some of his actions have been less than stellar, but all in all, he’s been a friend.

  “Are you with him?” he asks slowly as if it pains him to utter the words.

  “No.”

  “That’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want more blood on my hands.” He reaches back and massages his neck.

  “What?” I’m shocked.

  “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You can’t say shit like that and drop it. What’s that supposed to mean? Blood on your hands?”

  Like a swift kick in the gut, I gasp when I realize he’s talking about his guilt. I know he carries guilt about what happened to Johanna and I also know that no matter what I’ve ever said to him, he still and probably will always feel responsible in some twisted way.

  He doesn’t need to say anything; his look confirms what I’m thinking.

  My phone rings and I see that it’s Shelby calling. I answer quickly and tell her that MJ is being the perfect baby. I agree to send her a picture to prove it. With the phone in front of us, I snap a selfie and send it to her.

  Ten seconds later, she responds that she loves the picture and wants to know who’s sitting beside me. I’m not sure I want to tell her the truth. She was less than receptive to him at the grocery store today.

  I simply tap out three letters. “Him.”

  Her quick response tells me to kiss her baby goodnight but doesn’t mention “him.”

  “Everything okay?” he asks as I smooth out my face, erasing the lines of worry.

  “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  “Ask me another question.”

  “Why did you leave me?” I go straight for the jugular and I don’t care.

  “That’s the one I’ve been waiting for.” He smiles submissively. “The answer is rather simple really. I left because I love you.”

  My face will need an iron to get back to its smoothness. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard someone say! ‘I broke your heart because I love you.’ You are delusional.”

  “If you knew all the facts, you’d have done the same thing, Mia.”

  My chest is starting to pound in anger and I turn vicious eyes on him. “I thought you wanted me to trust you. Right now, I’m back to hating you.”

  “You have to know that I didn’t mean the things I said to you. I wanted you forever.”

  “You were so mean, so hurtful.”

  Thank God I have this baby in my arms to keep me relatively calm. “So tell me. Is the point of you coming back to apologize for what you did before you go back?”

  “I’m not going back.” His voice fills with deep conviction. “I’m staying here. I am going to stay here and fight for you. I need you.”

  “It’s not that easy.” I look away and shake my head. “You’ve done an incredible amount of damage.” For every step my heart takes forward, it takes two steps backward when I think about that day and the weeks that followed.

  “Don’t stop talking to me. This is good. We need to talk.” His knuckles run along my cheek, forcing my eyes to close as I control the energy in my body at his simple touch.

  “I’ve thought about you and the kids every single day. It killed me that I had not only lost you, but Maddie and Luke, too. I loved those kids like they were my own,” I whisper.

  He opens his arms and I lean in against his chest, sobbing quietly as I relive those dark days. He needs to know exactly what he did and what he’s dealing with.

  Sniffling away the last of my tears, I get up and make my way upstairs to put MJ to bed. I am followed without hesitation. After getting the baby ready for bed, I lie him down gently in his portable crib, turn on the night light and leave the room. All the while, dark eyes watch me silently.

  Downstairs, I put away the rest of dinner while he reaches into the bag and pulls out two smaller containers. “Dessert,” he offers with a smile, trying to bring us back to a comfortable place before things got so somber earlier.

  “Coffee?” I offer, holding up a mug to which he nods eagerly.

  Under a moonless sky, we sit in the Adirondack chairs, and enjoy the beauty of the night sky filled with twinkling stars, drinking coffee and eating Reese’s Peanut Butter cheesecake and a triple chocolate brownie. The white noise of the monitor confirms that MJ is sound asleep.

  “Tell me about your trip to Mexico.”

  My lips pull into a smile. “It was wonderful. I went with Luis to an orphanage and met some incredible children. There was one little girl I fell in love with. I wanted so much to take her home with me.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Like me, just darker skinned. You know brown hair, brown eyes. Pretty generic, really.”

  “Sweetheart, there is nothing generic about you.” He looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world.

  “Thank you.”

  He sips his coffee and breaks off a piece of brownie with his fork, offering it to me. I clench my teeth to prevent my mouth from opening and shake my head, rejecting the gesture. I clear
my throat. “Tell me about your father.” In all the time we had been together, his father’s name was never really mentioned. I had always gotten the impression that they weren’t close.

  “He’s okay. He’s a man who drank too much, spent time in the company of too many women and lived a life of regret.”

  “That sounds sad.”

  “It is. Watching him navigate through this relationship with Monica is kind of funny. He isn’t himself; he does whatever he needs to do to please her. I think he’ll always love my mother.”

  “He still loves your mother? But they divorced so long ago.”

  “I don’t think you ever get over your soul mate, the love of your life.”

  “Then why’d they divorce if she was the love of his life?”

  “Because he was a selfish bastard.”

  I ask him to elaborate and he does, telling me that his father was led astray more than once during their marriage.

  “How is he with the kids?” I can’t imagine a bachelor granddad would be very good at knowing what to do with seven year olds.

  “He tries his best, I guess. He doesn’t really spend a lot of time alone with them though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my kids are always with me.” He gives me a pointed look.

  I get it. He’s telling me that he hasn’t been with anyone.

  “So you’re telling me that you haven’t driven your car around looking for women?”

  “Nope. My car is here in storage.” That revelation surprises me. He loves that car.

  He yawns quietly and runs his hand through his hair.

  “Why’s your hair so short?” I remember how much I loved cupping his scruffy face before running my fingers through his hair, leaving it wayward in a sexy mess.

  He slides the fork from his lips and swallows the last bite of cheesecake. “Dawn.”

  Dawn? Her again? What the fuck? He just said he hasn’t been with anyone or at least that’s what I thought he was saying. I choke on a sip of coffee.

  “She’s Monica’s daughter.”

  He must see confusion on my face. “My father’s girlfriend,” he offers by way of explanation.