Wanderlust

by A. R. Hadley

  "Cal." She swallowed his name before it even came out.

  He continued the onslaught. "I can't go home without hearing you say it." He pulled out. "Tell me."

  Shaking, near tears, pussy aching, she bunched up the sheets in her fists, and moaned, "Please."

  "That's not what I want, baby." He continued to nudge her crease with his dick, driving her mad with need.

  She beat her fists into the bed. "I am strong!" She pounded the mattress, nostrils flaring.

  "Yes!" He inched inside. A little bit. Slowly. "What else?"

  "Please."

  He pulled out.

  "I will wait," she said, glancing back at him. "I. Understand. You. You have my will.”

  "I need to see you, your face. Come here." He sat on the bed, legs open, and pulled her toward him.

  She sank down onto him, wrapped her hands and legs around his back, and with skin slicked with sweat and bodies melded together, they bounced, rocked, and writhed.

  Foreheads touching, eyes roving, souls lost on a plateau and searching for another, a home, an understanding, a comfort, an ease, an escape, a way to forget and remember — they watched where they joined.

  Annie lost herself inside a maze of no time, lost in his eyes, in their unspoken I love yous, in their wills, in her promise, the one she wouldn't break this time.

  She would wait. She would understand. She would own and bridle and harness the strength he jam-packed into their manic lovemaking.

  And when they came, they screamed strength and fucked disillusionment.

  They tried to absorb the comfort they both feared.

  Cal lay on his back, holding Annie close after making love, the way he’d wanted to all those weeks she was away. He held her and caressed her as if it would be the last time.

  She lay, wound against him, threaded, a leg draped over his thighs, her head on his chest, a finger twirling the locks of his hair.

  “You’re still trembling, baby.” He touched her cheek and peeked into her eyes.

  She swallowed. The words I love you were on the cusp of her tongue, but she didn’t utter them. She didn't know how she would board the plane in the morning or how she would wake up and spend every day without him, so she kept the three words in her mouth and her eyes on the way she looped her fingers through his hair.

  Everything she couldn’t say aloud they felt through the pores of their skin and in the rise and fall of their breath.

  Propping her head up, she met his gaze and smiled, trying to lighten the insane intensity. “Then you must be damn good."

  “You’re the one,” he whispered. Fail. The intensity remained intact. It increased with his words. “You’re the good one.”

  Annie was the one, Cal thought. She made him feel a way no other woman had ever made him feel — physically, emotionally, concretely whole. A man in every way. In the three weeks without her by his side, he hadn’t forgotten the sensation. But now, as he stared down into her eyes, he solidly remembered. Her eyes unmistakably told him everything … the way they always had.

  Warmth, comfort, the gentle reassurance he always needed but forgot existed.

  Annie kept her face in the crook of Cal’s neck. Tucking a leg between his, she stroked his skin with her foot while keeping one hand around his waist and the other over his chest, tickling him.

  Both of them quiet and resting.

  Cal combed his fingers through her hair, untangling the strands, feeling found and home inside the intricacy of their companionship. He stilled, barely moving, watching the expression on her face, loving her.

  Annie caught Cal’s eyes and fell.

  His greens held a soft, tender glow. His stare was deeper than any she’d seen before. Maybe it was the length of it, lasting several seconds — no, minutes. Reminiscent of a childhood game, except this one was being played with white heat and blinking. Played without thinking, only sinking. Farther into each other, deeper and further, falling off the sands of time. It was a pull, a yearning, a drawing. A begging. Annie couldn’t look away. The stare transcended matter. It whisked away death and time and space, bringing clarity. Crystal clear, palpable — clarity.

  With an exhale, Cal broke the quiet concentration. He broke the staring contest and wriggled out of Annie’s grasp. After using the bathroom, he leaned over, grabbed his clothes off the floor, and sat on the bed facing the window seat, his back to Annie.

  She reached an arm around his waist and touched his stomach underneath the blue shirt he’d started to button.

  "Where are you going?" she purred like a kitten. "Stay with me tonight." Her face pressed against his tailbone.

  "I can't." He stood. Finished dressing.

  Annie dropped her head onto the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, trying to work up the courage to tell him the news that would change his life, news that may alter how he felt about her, the news that ate away at the pit of her stomach.

  Cal grabbed his shoes, sat on the bench, and put them on. "I have already disrespected Maggie by coming upstairs when she asked me not to, and I can't." He looked away. "I can't be here in the morning when you leave." Cal winced. "I need this time.”

  "I want to be with you."

  "You want to be at home too. For more than just a couple of weeks. You've talked about how much you miss it and how much you need it. We both need this time apart. I have no idea what's in store for me at home. I have a responsibility. I have to be there. Alone."

  He wasn't alone. Why did he choose alone? "I don't know how to do a long-distance thing."

  He sat on the bed next to her. "Neither do I. It's just time—"

  "Fuck. Time."

  He smiled as Annie sat upright and tucked the sheet under her armpits, trying not to grin and failing.

  "You will be happy in your own space. Admit it."

  "With my mother?" she asked.

  "Are you going to move in with her?"

  "I am right now. It's easier for the time being." Easier for the duration of the pregnancy. Oh. My. God.

  "I've completely disrupted your life," he said, and she eyeballed him. "I have."

  Cal had no idea just how much he had indeed disrupted her life, and he was soon going to find out. Would she tell him? Should she tell him? He would hate her either way or resent her or what? What? Define it.

  He may never want to be with me again.

  He may never trust me again.

  I broke my promise.

  I'm keeping a huge, life-altering secret.

  He kissed her cheek and said, "I'll message you," like he was sealing a business deal with a peck instead of a handshake.

  And she nodded. Why? She didn't know. She didn't exactly wholeheartedly agree with any of it. The leaving. The moving. The time and understanding he’d asked of her while inside her body.

  The room seemed to move in slo-mo. Her nod lasted centuries. His turnabout and checkmate were underwater Russian roulette. Her nod, a surreal acceptance.

  Did she accept it? Him?

  He’d begged her to understand. Made her spout it out during sex. Would he accept the—

  Say it, Annie. For God's sake, say it. A baby. A fucking baby.

  The nod had to last until ... it was her farewell. She didn’t want to say the actual word goodbye. If she opened her jaw, that stupid four-letter word at her throat would climb out of her mouth and spew instead.

  I'm pregnant. Hey, you, I'm pregnant. Pregnant. Baby. Baby. Baby. Look. Here. Womb. Yours. Mine. Argh.

  She didn’t want to say what she had to say, but she knew now she had to say it. How could she have thought she could keep it from him? It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. His mom dying. A baby. The timing was despicable. He had a right to know, though.

  And so, as Annie quietly watched the father of her child walk toward the door in underwater slow motion, she braced herself for the inevitable.

  Cal had made it to the handle, fingers grazing the knob, when she inhaled and then exhausted all her breath.


  "I'm pregnant."

  A seismic blast flattened the forest of the bedroom. Loud, crisp, and clear. It was the first time she’d said it out loud. The words sounded like they’d originated from another person — a reckless sex fiend too horny to wrap it up.

  Not Annie. She thought she was a responsible dreamer.

  Cal paused for what felt like an eternity, and when he finally turned around and looked at Annie, his eyes pierced a hole through her retinas. He kept peering — green to green, fear to fear — sizing her up, deducing her, studying her, reading her, seeing her, but it physically pained her to return the stare.

  Finally, he sat down at the foot of the bed, his profile to Annie, and looked at his hands, rotating his thumbs. Twiddling them?

  "When?" He paused. "How?"

  "The last time we were together." Annie watched him go through what she’d gone through yesterday. "The night we went to the club."

  The street. The alley. Cal remembered the wall. The sex he couldn't wait on. Why hadn’t he waited, pulled out, or stuffed a condom in his pocket before he’d left home? He always took care of things. Always. He was always responsible. The picture of thinking. He couldn't remember the last time he’d been so careless. How could he have forgotten? It was all a blur. His mother sick and dying, Annie leaving. He was moving. Wait...

  "We talked about this," he began. "You said..." He hadn't stopped fiddling with his fingers.

  "I know I did. I thought... My period, it's ridiculous. I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?"

  They exchanged a look wrought with nerves and questions and blame.

  "Who else knows about this?"

  "No one knows. Jesus, Cal. I just found out yesterday morning."

  "And you’re sure? You're positive you are pregnant?" He lifted his knee to the bed and turned his upper body toward her.

  "I took two tests. They were both positive. And yeah, I've been sick to my stomach … okay. I'm exhausted. My breasts hurt. I'm a classic case.”

  Lost again, Cal stared in the general direction of Annie, but not at her face. His eyes bounced around as he ran his fingers through his hair, unable to piece it all together.

  Seconds passed.

  And then it clicked.

  He looked her dead in the face. "If I hadn't found out you were here, by mistake, you were going to leave without telling me this?" He stood, demanding an answer with his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You were going to get on a fucking plane tomorrow without telling me this?"

  He towered over Annie, looking at her as if he didn't know her at all, and Annie knew she never wanted him to look at her that way again. Dropping her head, she covered her eyes and started to cry. Tears fell, but as was her trademark, she made no sound.

  "I'm sorry, Cal." She pulled the sheet up and wiped her cheeks. "I wasn't ready. I'm still not ready. I'm in shock. Don't you understand? You’re not the only one who has a hard time with words."

  His face softened, but his eyes still searched the room for answers. Her open suitcase on the window seat. Frames against the wall. The dresser. The mirror. But there were no answers anywhere.

  "Have you been with anyone else since me?" Annie blurted out. God. That was the wrong thing to say. She hadn't meant it that way.

  Cal glared at her.

  "I mean, have you always used protection? Have you been tested?"

  "You really pick the best times to have a conversation." He sat next to her on the edge of the bed and drew in a deep breath. "This is something you should’ve discussed with me from the start if you’re so concerned about my history.

  "Look at me, Annie," he said, firm but kind, no space to move. "It's been years since I made the mistake of not using condoms — even in relationships. Okay?" Cal rubbed his hand over her shin. "I’m clean. I was tested just after I moved. And it's only been you since the day we met. It's only been you since I've been in Miami. Fuck, Annie, you know that.”

  She did know, but she still was not entirely satisfied — she needed more. When would there have been an inappropriate time to ask him the things pressing at her heart?

  "Has this happened to you before?" She could feel her facial muscles pull back in anticipation of his reaction.

  "Has what happened to me before?"

  "This." As she pointed all ten fingers at her stomach, the sheet fell in her lap.

  "That's neither here nor there," he replied, wear in his voice and eyes.

  "Please, Cal, answer me."

  "Once.” He looked as if he didn’t wish to recall the memory she’d forced upon him.

  "And?" Annie stared at his silent, expressionless face.

  "And … I'm not a father. I don't have any children." Even though he’d answered without any inflection, she could decipher the once he’d spoken about had been a decision — and not his.

  As much as Cal had said he didn’t want to be a father, the pain of the remembrance showed all over him. Annie reached for his hand and squeezed it. He looked into her eyes, and she could see the shame of the conversation on his face.

  "That's not me, Cal. I'm having this..." She glanced at her stomach, covered her mouth, feeling her face scrunch up and make frown lines.

  "Annie, I would never attempt to make that choice for you. Ever."

  "You said you never wanted to be a father."

  Love piloted his eyes and steered his heart in her direction. He brushed her hair off her forehead and tucked pieces behind her ear. "Not by choice, but now … now it's…"

  The man with a plan seemed at a loss for words. "Now it's what?" Annie cocked her head to the side.

  Cal's quiet became loud as he pondered. Extending an arm over her legs, he looked down at her body neatly wrapped up in the sheet, and then he looked into her eyes.

  "Now, it's different," he said with a special kind of delicacy she didn't think she’d ever heard from his lips. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "I lost my mind with you. No woman has ever made me so crazy." He played with her hair, rubbing it between his fingers.

  "Don't, Cal, please." His underbelly was almost more than she could stand. "Maybe … maybe that night in the alley we … maybe you should have—"

  "What are you saying?” Cal searched her face, forcing her gaze upon him as he spoke. The look at me, Annie perfectly effective without words. “That I should’ve pulled out? That I shouldn’t have fucked you? I don't take back anything about that night with you. No." He shook his head. "No. I wouldn't change any of it."

  Annie sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as the tears welled in her eyes. Did she have nine more months of emotional bullshit?

  Cal pulled the sheet up and dried her tears.

  She knew exactly what he’d meant when he said I wouldn't change any of it because not only was it the night they’d conceived a child together — a child who obviously meant more to the two of them than they could even articulate — but it was also the night she’d first told him she loved him.

  They wrapped their arms around each other and embraced.

  Annie had wanted Cal as much as he’d wanted her that night, and in that brief moment of ecstasy, she’d wanted him inside her for all of it — from start to finish. She didn’t regret the way it had all happened, and she couldn’t regret the life now growing inside of her.

  The optimistic dreamer hadn’t left the building. She’d landed. Shocked, for sure. Nervous, yes. But the spirit of picking one foot up and placing it in front of the other had never truly left Annie.

  Flinging her legs to the side of the bed, Annie stood and put on her clothes while Cal lay back across the bed’s width, feet out to the floor. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned.

  "Will you come to dinner with us?" she asked.

  Cal appeared mesmerized by the blotches on the ceiling. Annie wasn’t even sure he was listening to her. His silence indicated he hadn't changed his mind about the two of them being apart. About being alone. He wasn't going to change his mind. She needed to accept it. Howe
ver, insecurity robbed her heart of reason.

  Annie rolled her eyes as she walked, now fully dressed, over to the bed and stood in front of him. Her presence broke his stare, and he looked up into her eyes.

  "Did you hear me?"

  "No," he said as she picked up his limp hand and played with his fingers, bending the knuckles backward.

  "It's not enough,” she said, timidity in her tone. “I don't know what you want from me. How are we going to be parents to this child? God, Cal. Together, we are only masters of fucking."

  It was clear to Cal now that no matter how many times he told Annie what he felt for her wasn't just about the sex, she would not believe him … or she didn't want to. He was frustrated she wasn't more secure in her feelings for him, and he felt if she really loved him as she said she did, she would let him go and give him the time he was asking for. It wouldn’t be for an eternity.

  Taking his hand away, Cal stood. He didn’t want to listen to the same words bubble out of her mouth over and over. It was painful for him too, despite what Annie thought about his decision.

  "When will you trust that our relationship is more than sex? Why can't you see the difference? Do you even know what it feels like to be with someone in the way you think I am with you?" He walked over to the window and stared outside. "I asked for your will. Your understanding."

  Annie watched his rigid body for a moment, and then she walked over and stood next to him. After she put her hand on his back, he took his hands from his pockets and turned around.

  "I can't keep having this conversation. Why do you think I keep reminding you of your strength? Of what you know? You have to trust me. You have to trust the fact that my physical need to have you doesn't take away from my emotional need for you. Stop measuring everything by our physical attraction. I need you, Annie. All of you."

  He picked up her hand and placed it over her heart. “I need this.” His eyes moving back and forth, Cal pressed her fingers into her chest. “But I also need time. You gave that to me when I was inside you just a little bit ago. Don't deny it now. Do you realize how much has happened in the last few weeks? To both of us. It was enough hearing you say those words to me that night in the alley, and aside from worrying about my mother, my work, it's practically all I've thought about. You have been all I've thought about. And now … now I find out you’re pregnant."