by Brynn North
I was panting with lust, and everything in my body was screaming go, go, go until my brain caught up with my adrenaline-filled body.
Boyfriend.
That one word, far more loaded than he ever intended, made my wine and lust-filled mind screech to a sober halt. What in the hell was I doing?
I wasn’t what Boston wanted. Why would he want a broken woman, one that wasn’t over her ex-boyfriend, and even worse, one that couldn’t give him biological kids? The absolute last thing I wanted to get into after such a magical night was that topic. All the emotions over the evening, hell, over the last couple of months came flooding over me at once.
“I can’t,” I gasped, jerking my face away from Boston, and removing my hand from the outline of his dick with superhuman force. The magical moment was severed in an instant.
“I’m sorry.” He jerked back like I’d slapped him and scooted away from me on the far end of the bench. He reached over awkwardly and pulled down my shirt, which just made the moment worse. “I didn’t mean...I know I’m older, and you had an awful experience with an older guy tonight… I should have respected that you were in a vulnerable spot…” His voice trailed off, clearly ashamed of himself.
“Dude, you’re like three years older than me. That’s within an acceptable range.” I rolled my eyes at him, despite the overwhelming feelings of lust in my groin. Took everything in me to act so normal, too. “It’s just that I think we need to stay friends. We’re colleagues, you know. And Vi’s my best friend and current roommate. We just got caught up in the moment, and the wine. I don’t think we really have a romantic connection,” I finished with a lie.
Boston’s handsome face fell so hard and fast that I was tempted to take him in my arms and tell him the truth. Tell him he was the only thing in the last month that made me feel normal like there wasn’t something wrong with me. That I wasn’t broken like Shane made me feel, or fragile like Vi made me feel despite her best efforts to act normal, or failure like my mom did. He had treated me like, well, a normal person. He didn’t walk on eggshells from me, or make unreasonable demands, or coddle me. He didn’t tell me that who I was and what I had to offer wasn’t enough. He treated me like, well, Kat.
I also wanted to tell him to carry me inside, whip out that magnificent penis of his, and show me exactly what he could do with it. My imagination shivered at the possibilities. And in the morning after, he could make me another batch of those cinnamon rolls.
I blinked back tears at the absurdity of my imagination. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that I lacked the most basic thing, fertility. He didn’t realize by being with me, he’d be giving up so much. He just looked at me the way he thought he knew me, with our fun times, banter, and easygoing connection. Our insane physical attraction.
And I couldn’t tell him. There was no way I could tell him I was incomplete. I didn’t have it in me after the whole Shane debacle. How could I get rejected twice by men I cared so much about? The thought alone killed me.
I leaned over and kissed Boston on the cheek. “I care about you, Boston. That’s why I’m doing this.”
I rose from the bench and headed to the door before I lost my resolve and threw myself back into his arms. Before I opened the door, I took one little peek back. Boston was sitting, staring into the dark night in front of him, a blank look on his face.
I burst into tears for the first time in over a month, and, with a firm push, ran through the door, past Vi’s sleeping body on the couch, and into my bedroom.
23
I gritted my teeth as I swung open the door. I was so not looking forward to this, and neither was my body, but I was at least looking forward to the distraction it would provide me. Besides, I had bought a package of ten classes last time I went to the aerial yoga studio and was too cheap to let them go to waste.
But as soon as I got through the doors of the studio, I caught sight of the wall. On it was a mural, with various cities across the USA painted in bright colors and swirly graphics. To the left was a picture of Boston, the name written in big, flowy letters in the harbor before the skyline. To my horror, tears started welling up. Well, damn. I had no idea I even had tears left in me after the last two weeks, and the last thing I wanted was to start crying before I started another round of aerial yoga classes. I could humiliate myself in this class just fine without breaking into tears before it even started.
In the two weeks since I bolted through the door and away from Boston, we had only exchanged very cordial messages. Once when he checked to make sure I had made it in okay, which was odd considering he saw me run through the door, and once more with edits to an article I sent to him. Neither had his usual dry humor. I missed him more than I thought I ever would, and even Vi was starting to wonder why I was moping around the house again after I swore on a box of See’s caramels that it wasn’t about Shane. Finally, in an attempt to distract myself from the swirling thoughts in my head, I decided to pry myself off the couch and use up more of the package I bought from Shelley. Maybe this time I would stay in the sling.
I lingered after class to see if I could get Shelley’s attention. Luckily, she seemed to sense I wanted to talk because she handed me a spray bottle and towel as soon as the last person left the room.
“Something on your mind?” she asked, cheerfully grabbing the Swiffer.
I started spraying the mirror and rubbing it with a little more vigor than what was strictly necessary.
“Whoa,” she laughed. “Don’t take it out on the mirror. It tells no lies. I think that’s the quote, anyway. Never really was good at poetry.”
I wasn’t exactly sure myself, though I did know who likely would.
“So what does the mirror tell you about me then?” Shelley had great insight and seemed to like mentoring people, both in and out of class. I was interested in what she thought.
She started straightening up the mats, humming a little as she did it. “Honey, I don’t need a mirror to tell you what you’re going through. What’s more, I don’t think you need a mirror, either. You’re confused about life right now, and aren’t sure what the right next step is.”
Her words hit me like a lightning bolt. She had taken the last two weeks of turmoil in my brain and wrapped it up in one short sentence.
“How did you know?” I gasped.
She gave a little shrug. “I didn’t know. I just know that being confused about a fork in the road is human nature. We all get hit with these moments in our lives, spinning in circles to figure out what we truly want so we can tell ourselves we came up with the answer, instead of taking the easy way and admitting to ourselves what we really want deep down.” She gave me a knowing look. “Is it about that man of yours you told me about last time?”
“Yeah,” I replied glumly, for the first time out loud, even to myself. “I’m confused.”
“About Shane? Or Boston?”
I gulped. She knew the difference? I thought she had just confused Shane’s name with Boston’s. The sly look in her eye told me something different, though.
But maybe she was onto something. All this time without Boston to talk to had shaken things up for me. Over the last few days, I began to admit to myself I was far more attracted to him and vested into our growing relationship than I realized. A tiny thought had started tossing itself around in my head. That maybe I had been stubborn for stubborn’s sake because I only knew one way of life. That maybe I didn’t need to chase an old dream but instead be open to new ones.
Shelley crossed over to me and started to help me organize the weights in the corner of the room into piles according to size.
“Honey, I don’t know which man is right for you. But I do know a couple of things about men and life that I learned over my fifty-three years. First, sometimes despite all your efforts, love has an expiration date with some people. It doesn’t mean it wasn't true love, or that it was meaningless. It just means that particular chapter in your life has come to a close. But the book isn’t done yet.
When a relationship ends, it’s not always a failure, it just means your life story is taking a different twist and turn than you anticipated.”
I blinked rapidly. “What’s the other thing you know?”
“That people need to listen to themselves speak. Often, when people try to convince themselves they don’t want something or that it isn’t right for them, it’s the thing they want the most.”
My mind suddenly seemed cleaned out and lighter. Whatever yoga training school she went to, it must have been a hell of a good one. “Thank you, Shelley. I think I know what I need to do next.”
24
The tall green trees waved slightly in the wind and the surrounding land looked peaceful as my tires crunched over the gravel parking the car in the visitor’s spot. I took a long moment to look out the window before I opened my door.
Love’s Retreat was spelled out in swirly calligraphy on a wooden sign above the door of the huge red Queen Anne Victorian house. The words were surrounded by a few hearts, painted in white, which matched the trim around the house, including the railings of the massive wrap-around porch. From what my parents told me, this house was built over a hundred years ago for a shipping baron and his family of five kids, as his weekend getaway from the busyness of the city, where he could enjoy the quiet nature and river that flowed through the backyard. Over the years, it hadn’t been kept up as well as it should have, and my parents got it for a ridiculously low price. They had spent over a year and a lot of money fixing it up from the floor to the roof. They did a fantastic job making every inch gleam with old-school charm, and now they were living their dream life of running a bed & breakfast in their semi-retirement.
The rooms were almost perpetually booked with vacationers and wedding parties. For a few years, I had dreamed about becoming one of the many brides who held their wedding on the beautiful grounds. I knew now that it was a stupid, premature daydream. I gave myself a rueful little headshake. Shane would have never gone for it anyway, preferring the city lights. I should have known that.
The only time bookings slowed down were during the coldest months of the year and over the holidays, allowing my parents a little breather. The only way I could get a room during a summer weekend was because my mom had a cancellation and immediately reserved it for me, demanding I come.
“You’ve been back for months, Katrina, and we’ve only seen you once for dinner. You can come to Love’s Retreat and visit your parents for a night.”
And that’s how I found myself, alone and single, at what TC Media itself named “Minnesota’s Most Romantic Getaway for Couples.” At least I’d get the in-room jacuzzi to myself tonight, I figured as I swung open my car door. And despite Kiara’s eyes lighting up when I told her where I was going this weekend, I flat out refused to write about taking myself on a romantic getaway as one of my articles like I knew she would have loved.
Nope. This visit would be pure obligation. I mean, I loved my parents and all, but my mom could be so overbearing. I had dodged questions for weeks now about Shane’s whereabouts and suggestions on how to get him back. I planned to suck it up for one night and then escape back to the city.
“Katrina!” My dad opened the front door, and I ran to him, throwing myself in his arms. While my mom could be overbearing, my dad was quieter, more introspective. He hadn’t asked me about my plans about Shane, except to make sure I was doing okay.
“Mom’s in the kitchen. Why don’t I grab your bag and put it in your room, and you can help her get ready for lunch?”
I wandered through the little sitting-room. Nestled next to comfortable chairs were stacks of books and games guests could check out. I walked through the breakfast area, stopping for a second to admire the arrangements of flowers on the tables, then into the hallway toward the heart of the operation - the kitchen and offices. “Mom?” I called out, looking for her familiar figure.
“Katrina!” She waved a butcher knife in greeting before putting it down to hug me. She drew back to take a good look at me, giving me a knowing look. I inwardly groaned at the inquisition I knew would come later. “Come help me chop these vegetables, and you can tell me all about what’s going on.”
Relieved that the first interrogation was over, I threw myself into a flurry of chores to avoid the subject of me and Shane as long as possible. It wasn’t hard to do. Mom had me prepping food, trimming shrubs, and organizing the office closet. By the time we sat down for dinner, I was more than ready to sink into the jacuzzi later. I earned it, and the ache of my muscles confirmed it.
“Good thing I told my boss I wasn’t going to write about my stay here,” I grumbled at dinner, which, thankfully, I didn’t have to prepare since Dad had ordered from the local Chinese restaurant. We gathered at their table in the kitchen, away from guests. Dad had spread out several white cartons, and I hungrily dove in. “I’m not sure she’d like the angle of ‘unpaid help’.”
Dad laughed, but Mom took it as an opportunity to pounce. “About that article series of yours...”
“Gah.” I buried my face in my hands at my slip. Why did I have to bring up my boss? I hadn’t exactly sent my parents the articles I wrote, but Mom knew how to use Google like the rest of the world, and had quickly found them online. Every week, I would get a long text message, telling me what she thought.
She carried on like she didn’t hear me. “I just don’t know why you need to write about moving on and all the fun of being single, Katrina! It’ll make you sound like you don’t even want to work things out with Shane.”
“I write about being single because writing about being single puts money in my bank account,” I said between clenched teeth, good mood over shrimp spring rolls quickly evaporating. “And I’m trying to be fun. Sassy. Not a bitter, dumped woman. That’ll be attractive to exactly no one.”
“And I see he’s in Dubai now! Have you even talked to him since he left?” she barreled on without even acknowledging my words.
“How did you know he’s in Dubai?” I asked, momentarily shocked. I never told her, wanting to keep the information about our breakup to a minimum.
She rolled her eyes. “Instagram. I saw his tags and location. Looks like he’s having a great time.”
I kept forgetting that Mom had taken a course on social media for seniors at the local community center. Since then, she had turned into quite the social media butterfly. She joined all sorts of interest groups and had more followers than me. Not that it was hard to do, though my count had grown considerably since I started Love, Redefined.
“No, I haven’t,” I said, defensively as I slid right back into our old communication patterns out of habit. I cringed. Wasn’t I too old for that? I soften my voice. “I didn’t want to smother him.”
“But if you don’t keep in contact with him, he’ll slip away, and into another woman’s arms!” She pointed her chopstick at me for emphasis.
“Yeah, what if that’s okay though?” I burst out, surprising everyone, including myself. “Maybe if me and my broken womb aren’t good enough for him, he’s not good enough for me. Maybe I’d be happier all around with someone who treated me right. Even before this, Shane wasn’t exactly Mr. Attentive. He left me alone in the condo more often than not to do all the chores while he did the wheeling and dealing for his career. I doubt he could even tell you my favorite breakfast cereal.”
Mom and Dad fell silent, and so did I. I couldn’t believe I just had a major outburst like that. For years, I had told them everything with Shane was perfect. Because I thought our relationship was perfect. But maybe I thought it was perfect because that’s all I knew, so I told myself it was what I wanted instead of actually evaluating if it was. Mom and Dad had been together since they were teenagers, and I think part of me always thought that’s what I would have too. Being with your first and only love forever.
“She’s right, Selma,” Dad said after a minute. “Katrina is a grown woman, and we need to let her figure this out for herself. With our full support, of co
urse,” he said, shooting me a hasty glance. “I mean, look at Tom Lindsay. He comes here every other year with a new girlfriend or wife, and he seems perfectly happy with all of them.”
“Oh, John,” Mom said, with a little jab of her chopstick into her fried rice. “I don’t think that slick womanizer is who we should compare Katrina to.”
We all laughed, then Mom started blinking back tears. “I just want you to have a good life, Katrina. And I feel so terribly guilty. You wouldn’t have all these medical issues if it wasn’t for me.” Her voice broke in the middle and clued me in to what was truly bothering her about my breakup. I reached around and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, squeezing it.
My premature ovarian failure was hereditary, coming from my mom’s side. She was able to have me, but had an early hysterectomy of her own after. She and my dad were never able to have more kids. I knew Mom had hoped and prayed she didn’t pass any issues down to me. She had a very hard time when I went through my medical ordeal a few years ago.
I rested my head against hers for a moment. “It’s okay, Mom.” I drew back to smile at her and glanced over at Dad so he, too, could see my words were true. “I came to peace with it years ago. I’m not even sure if I want kids, and if I do one day, well, I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get there. But either way, my womb isn’t going to determine my worth.”
She started sniffing. “We have some money saved up if you ever need a surrogate…”
“Whoa,” I laughed, holding up my hands. “I just got out of a relationship and am learning to be happy with myself. Let’s not add that to the mix yet, okay? Maybe your grandkids will be dogs, for all I know.”
Suddenly, Dad appeared behind me with three champagne glasses. He had a bottle tucked under his arm. “Took this from the reserve we keep for Sunday mimosas. What do you say we have a toast to Katrina’s future and our family, no matter what that may look like in the future?”