by Jade West
She nodded. “Stupid really.” She was breathy, her voice a wisp. “I have it all planned out, everything. I know where I’d put the field shelters, how I’d fix up the school, where I’d set up a proper jumping course. I know this place, I know the people. I’ve got a list of kids who want lessons, a list of kids who can’t afford it but want to help out anyway.” She met my eyes. “I wanted it so bad. I want it so bad.”
“What about other yards? You could rent somewhere else, no?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I dunno. I guess. It’s all the unknown.” Her eyes welled up again. “This place just feels special to me. The place I had my first horse, the place Samson and I found our feet.” She pointed to a track at the far end of the parking area. “We hack through these woods all the time. I know every path, every hill, every turn. I love it here. I love everything about this place.”
I sighed, my hands on the steering wheel. “How much does he need? How much is he selling the land for?”
She laughed a sad little laugh. “Too much. I don’t even know, a couple of hundred grand. Too much to worry about.”
And I said it. I just fucking said it. “I could buy it.”
Silence. Then a laugh. More like a snort. “You what?”
“I’m serious,” I said. “I could buy it for you. A couple of hundred grand, I could do that. It could be an investment, the land wouldn’t lose its value. I have enough capital.”
Wide eyes stared at me. “Why would you buy it? You don’t even like horses.”
“No.” I turned to her. “I don’t like horses, but I’m here anyway. I don’t even like the outdoors, I don’t like mud, I don’t like the smell of animal shit, the thought of trekking through open fields really doesn’t turn me on. But I’m here. Because of you. Because I like you.”
“I like you, too,” she said. “But you can’t buy Jack’s land, that’s… that’s insane. I couldn’t pay you back. I have no idea when I could pay you back. Probably never.” I could see the thoughts piling up behind her eyes, her head shaking as she worked through them.
“You wouldn’t need to. I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Then why? Why would you?” She held up her hands. “And at the end of six months, what? What even happens? What if we call it quits and move on? What happens then, when you own my yard and you don’t want it anymore?”
“That wouldn’t happen.”
She raised her eyebrows. “How do you know? Anything could happen. And then you’d own a yard you never even wanted and I’d owe you everything.”
“Or you’d be happy, and I’d be happy, and Rick would be happy. We could be happy, Katie. How about that?”
She took a breath. “A couple of hundred grand for a few years, you said. The other week, in the car, what did you mean?”
I felt a shiver down my spine. “That doesn’t matter now. That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this,” she said. “You’re offering me a couple of hundred grand, just like that, you say it’s so I can be happy. So we can be happy. What does happy even look like to you, Carl? What do you want from me?”
I sighed, gripped the steering wheel. “It’s just an offer. You want the yard, I can buy it. That’s all.”
She shook her head. “People don’t just go around buying hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of gifts to be happy, Carl. In the car, you said a couple of years, you said it was an option. That’s what you wanted from me, that’s what you implied. Is that still what you want? Because if that’s on the table, if that’s really what this is about… a few years in exchange for the yard… I mean, I dunno… if that’s what it meant… maybe I could…”
I closed my eyes. “Don’t do this, Katie. It was a simple offer. This isn’t the right time for this.”
“For what?” I heard her shift in her seat. “What isn’t this the right time for?”
Six months, Carl. Just give it time, man. Chill the fuck out.
Katie’s breath was loud. “I mean, if you want me to guarantee this… arrangement we have, for a couple of years… I could do that… I wouldn’t even mind…” I listened to her breathing, listened to her thinking. “But even at the current rate… two hundred grand… that’s like six years or something…” She sighed. “Anything could happen in six years. How do you know you’d even want that? Do you want that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to pay you to be in a relationship with us for six years, Katie.”
She laughed, but it was nervous. “I know, I mean, that would be stupid. Six years, that’s crazy. That’s like… silly, right?”
I opened my eyes. Looked at her. “I want you to be in a relationship with us because you want to be in a relationship with us. I hope that lasts six years. I hope it lasts longer. I hope it lasts, Katie.”
She was quiet. So quiet.
“I want…” I fought for the right words. “I want us, all three of us… to work… I want.” I sighed.
“Just say it,” she said. “You always just say it, right? Why not now?”
Because of Rick.
Because you’ll run.
Because I don’t want you to run.
She shrugged. “How can I know what you’re offering if you won’t tell me? I can’t think straight if I don’t know what I’m thinking about! This is… it hurts my brain… I just can’t…”
“Just think about the yard,” I said. “Do you want it, or not?”
“But it’s not about the yard, is it? You want something from me. You’ve always wanted something from me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about your dream.”
“Tell me,” she insisted. “What’s your dream? What does happy mean? Just tell me, Carl!”
“A baby,” I said. “I want you to have my baby. That’s what happy means.” I sighed. “I dream about being a father.”
Her eyes widened. Like they always do. I kept talking. Like I always do.
“I’m forty in December, Katie. I’ll be a forty year old man in a gay relationship with no family in sight.” I sighed again. “I want what most people want. I want a home, I want a family, I want to watch a little person grow up, I want the school visits, and Christmas mornings, and family holidays. I want to watch kids TV until it drives me insane. I want to know the words to all the crappy cartoon songs.” I stared at the trees. “I want to be a dad. I want Rick to be a dad. That’s what I want. That’s my dream.”
“A baby in exchange for the yard? A couple of hundred grand for me to… breed for you?” I could hear the disgust in her voice, the undertone of horror, even though she tried to hide it.
I spun in my seat, met her eyes. “Christ, no! I’m not some fucking human trafficker trying to buy a fucking baby through Sugar Daddy Match Up. I’ve looked into surrogacy, we’ve looked into that. Actual surrogacy. We could do that. That isn’t this. This isn’t that.”
“So, what is this?”
“This is me saying I want a proper family. An actual family, for the long haul. I want to love someone who can love us, both of us. I want to pick out nursery wallpaper with the mother of my child, I want her to live with us, I want to hold her hand at the birth, I want to go to bed with her every night. I want to watch my baby grow up with her, with us.” I paused. “I want that someone to be you, Katie.”
“And you’ll buy me Jack’s yard if it is?”
I shook my head. “I’ll buy you Jack’s yard because it’s your dream, not because you’ll give me a baby in return.”
“But that’s the hope, right? We swap dreams? You buy me mine, I’ll give you yours?” Her eyes were piercing.
“No. That’s not how I see it. That’s not how I mean it.”
“But that’s how it is. You said a couple of years. That’s for what? Conception, pregnancy, birth… breastfeeding, I guess… then, what? It doesn’t work out? What’s your plan then? I leave the baby with you and Rick? Disappear? Or I end up stuck as a singl
e mother? You swing by every weekend, maybe take it on holiday, buy it a new bike, whatever…”
“I really don’t have it planned out like that.”
“But you have everything planned out,” she said. “That’s who you are. You must know how the story goes, Carl. You must have known before you even met me. This is why they didn’t work out, right? The others? They didn’t want the baby thing, just the sex?”
“Amongst other things.” I stared at her. “They didn’t work out because they weren’t right.”
“But I am?”
“I hope so.” I smiled, but she didn’t smile back. “Katie, you turned up and you were everything we’d hoped for. More than we hoped for. More than I hoped for. Maybe with the others… maybe I was more…” I shrugged. “One track minded. Maybe it was less about them and more about the dream… maybe I wanted it beyond all other things. Maybe I wanted it so much it consumed me. Maybe that scared them.”
“And this time?”
Please believe me. “This time it’s about you. Us. This time it’s about your dreams, what you want, what will make you happy. I’ll buy you the yard because I can, because it’s what you want. Because I want a future, with you and Rick. Because you’re important.”
Her lip trembled. “But I don’t want a baby, Carl. I don’t think I can give you that. I’ve never wanted a baby.”
“I know,” I said, and smiled. “We saw. On your Facebook profile. Some stupid quiz, how many kids will you end up with? Katie Smith, none. Thank fuck for that, you said. I never ever want kids, you said. Horses over babies, always, you said. Rick showed me, printed it out.”
“And that’s how I feel.”
I swallowed, throat tight. “That could change…”
She shook her head. “I want a riding school, I want to ride, I want to event. I can’t do that with a baby. Unless… unless you’re talking ten years away… I just don’t know…”
But I wasn’t talking ten years away. I wasn’t talking about being a dad approaching retirement age while his kid is still in nappies.
It must have shown all over my face.
Her eyes were so big. “You really wanted this straight away, didn’t you? That’s what you wanted?” She sighed. “Oh God, you want it now. When were you going to tell me?”
“Six months,” I said honestly. “Rick and I agreed six months, until you knew us, until you stood a chance of knowing what you wanted.”
“I want what I always wanted,” she said. “A yard, a riding school, time with Samson…”
“And that’s it?”
“No,” she said. “I love being with you guys. I think about it sometimes, when I’m alone. How this could work, whether it could work. Whether I could be with two men. Properly, I mean.”
“And what was your conclusion?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. You want a baby. That’s what you want, Carl, don’t pretend it isn’t.”
“I want you and Rick,” I said. “I want you to be happy. I want us to be a family.”
“With a baby, Carl. With a baby. That’s what you need to make you happy.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
She leaned forward in her seat. “This is all too much. The yard… all this work stuff… my dad, Verity… you and Rick… a baby… it’s too much to think about.“
“I didn’t mean to force this on you right now,” I said. “I just wanted to buy you the yard, that’s all I wanted.”
“I couldn’t take the yard. Not unless I could give you what you wanted in return. Maybe not even then.”
“This has nothing to do with what I want. It has everything to do with how I feel about you.” I reached out a hand, but she flinched as it landed. “We both adore you, Katie. We think you’re incredible. Kind, and beautiful, and funny. Smart.”
“Please stop…” she said. “I just can’t…” She rubbed her temples. “I need to think this through. I’m upset about the yard, upset for Jack. I just need some space.”
Space.
“I can give you space,” I said. “Let’s go home. I won’t mention it again, any of it. You can think. We can watch some movies, eat, get an early night… whatever you want.”
She shook her head. “Space, Carl. I just need my own bed. I need to talk to my mum. Probably cry a bit, get it out of my system. You know?”
I knew. Of course I knew.
I made myself smile. “Sure. I’ll take you home.”
I drove in silence and my heart was thumping. So many words I wanted to say, but I’d already said too much. Way too fucking much.
I pictured Rick, waiting at home, waiting for us. He’d be excited, ready to congratulate Katie on an awesome week, and I’d show up alone.
Because I’d blown it. Again.
Because she needed space.
Because, no matter what I said, she was equating my offer of a yard with the need to give me a baby. She was adding it up, working it out, wondering how often I looked at her and saw a womb for sale.
And the answer was I didn’t. Not at all.
Not anymore.
We were outside hers so quickly.
“I could pick you up in the morning,” I said. “Your car is at ours…”
She shook her head. “I can get a lift with Mum to the yard. I can sort out the car later.”
She didn’t unclip her seatbelt, and I almost wished she would, just to get this over with.
“I’m sorry, Carl.”
They always are. Maybe they can see the desperation. Maybe that’s why they’re always so sorry.
“The offer of the yard still stands,” I said. “You could rent it from me, just like you would Jack. That’s what I was thinking. That’s all I was thinking.”
She leaned over and kissed my cheek, and her eyes were wet. “You’re so much nicer than I ever thought you would be.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”
She smiled. “It is.”
“The same applies,” I said.
She squeezed my hand. “Thank you. Your offer was very generous.”
But you don’t want it.
“Goodbye, Katie,” I said.
She unclipped her seatbelt. Opened the door.
“Bye, Carl.”
My heart fucking pained as she walked away. Pain and fear and panic at the thought of Rick’s face as I walked through the door alone. His face as his calls rang to her voicemail, all because I’d spoken too soon.
Because he was right. He always is.
It was way too fucking soon.
I took a breath. Closed my eyes. Waited for my heart to stop fucking pounding.
She was staring at me as I opened them. Her face to the driver’s window. It made me jump.
She tapped on the window and I lowered it.
“You said goodbye. Not bye, or see you, or catch you later. You said goodbye.”
“Isn’t it?”
She pulled a face. “Do you want it to be? Is that how you work? No baby, no more Carl or Rick?”
I shook my head. “No, of course not.”
“Then it isn’t goodbye,” she said, and once again my blue-eyed girl surprised me. “I said I needed my own bed, to talk to my mum, maybe cry a bit. That’s exactly what I meant.”
“I hope so, Katie.”
She ran a finger down my cheek. “You’re quite a sensitive guy under that scary hot exterior, Carl Brooks.”
“Is that a compliment, too?”
“It is,” she said. “This isn’t goodbye, it’s see you later.”
I put the car in gear, forced a smile.
“Then I’ll be seeing you later, Katie.”
“Yes,” she said. “You will.”
Chapter Twenty
Carl
I tried to hold on to her smile, cling tight to her see you later, but I’d been here too many times before. Every time I’d convince myself I wasn’t gutted inside, that I wasn’t feeling the clock ticking against my dream, that I wasn’t aching
at the thought that it might never happen for me.
But I couldn’t convince myself this time.
She’d been right there, the one for us. I’d seen it in her smile. I’d heard it in her laugh. The way she’d fit so easily between us, so snug, so there. The way my heart raced when she called my name. The way her fingers felt for mine when no one was looking. The way I was so proud of her. So fucking proud.
Those moments I was deep inside her and wanted to stay there, with Rick, both of us together. Fill her up with my baby, our baby, and watch her grow big and beautiful, swollen and glowing with the new life inside her belly.
The way I looked into her eyes and saw a future. A future for all three of us, and the baby we could make together.
And I’d blown it. No matter what she said now, I’d truly blown it.
She’d be running scared, and who could blame her? What kind of desperate weirdo throws a few hundred grand at a young woman half his age and practically begs her to have his baby?
That’s how she’d see it, no matter what I said. Desperate. That’s how she’d see me. Because I was. I was desperate.
And it hurt so much more for loving her. For wanting her baby, not just a baby. Katie wasn’t just a womb, wasn’t just a pretty face and a smile. She wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t just a Never mind, Carl, we’ll try again, Carl. Just don’t fuck it up next time, Carl. There’s someone out there for us, Carl. We just have to find her, Carl. Keep your cool, Carl. Trust me, Carl, she’s out there. She’s fucking out there.
Keep my fucking cool?
We’d found her. And I’d lost her.
I’d fucking lost her.
I gripped the steering wheel tight, and kept my attention on the road. I felt sick as I drew closer to Cheltenham, the prospect of telling Rick rolling around my gut. The sky turned grey and heavy, the road dull as it stretched ahead. And I stank, of horse and hay and the bitter stench of failure.
I took a breath as I parked up on our driveway, fumbling in my briefcase to delay the moment I’d have to step inside. I took another long breath as I turned the key in the front door, bracing myself for the inevitable.
Rick was already waiting. He was still suited and booted from his client meeting, his hair slick and trendy and his smile bright. A bright purple tie over a pale pink shirt. Matching purple brogues. He had a bottle of champagne in one hand and a balloon on a string in the other. The string was bright pink, the balloon a huge daisy. Well done it said on one side. Good job on the other. It twisted and bobbed against the ceiling, taunting me with the irony.