Only You
Page 25
I smiled. “Night.”
Later, as I lay beneath the covers, I kept trying to poke and prod at my psyche, wondering if I was really okay with the sort of friends-with-benefits arrangement Nate and I had alluded to, or if I was lying to myself only so I could be with him. But no matter how many emotional rocks I turned over, I surprised myself by feeling okay. After all, the sex hadn’t been meaningless. It hadn’t felt cheap or gratuitous or impersonal. We hadn’t used each other like anatomically correct robots performing a mechanical act.
In short, I hadn’t felt like Slot B receiving Part A.
Had he thrown himself at my feet to declare his undying love? No. But that was okay. When it was over, I’d felt closer to him than I had before, and that was enough. And I liked that he’d been up front about his insecurities and his fear of disappointing me. Actual feelings! That felt like a huge step in a different direction. A new direction.
I’d move in a new direction, too. I certainly didn’t need to repeat my usual song and dance routine, the one where I hurled myself body, heart, and soul into a new relationship and expected the guy to do the same. It had backfired every time.
This time, I vowed, would be different.
I would be understanding. I would be patient. I would slow down and enjoy the ride, wherever it took us.
But I really, really hoped it took us somewhere together.
Monday morning, my alarm went off at 6:45 AM, and I smiled upon awakening, even though I’d only gotten about five hours of sleep. It was the happiest I’d felt in a long time.
While I was in the shower, I thought about texting Nate to see if he wanted me to bring him some breakfast. Our building had a little coffee shop downstairs that I usually hit on my way to work, and it carried doughnuts and muffins and other things, too. I hurried through my routine, and dried off, then wrapped my head in a towel and sat on my bed.
Me: Can I bring you anything from the shop downstairs?
Nate: Yes. I’d like a case of Red Bull, 6 lines of cocaine, and a Pixie Stick.
Me: Will you settle for a doughnut?
Nate: I guess, if you don’t have any cocaine.
Me: I’m fresh out. But I will bring you some coffee.
Nate: Thanks.
Smiling, I set my phone aside and got dressed, throwing on jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt that drooped off one shoulder. Beneath it I wore a black lace bralette that would peek out. Sexy but not too sexy. Comfy but not sloppy. I wore my hair down because Nate seemed to like it that way, brushed my teeth, and put on only a little makeup.
Down in the lobby shop, I grabbed the coffee and doughnuts, and on a whim also purchased a magazine whose cover advertised an article titled “Five Tips for Breaking Your Bad Relationship Patterns.” It might have been total nonsense, but I figured I had nothing to lose and everything to gain by doing things differently this time around.
A few minutes later, I knocked on his door, a drinks carrier in one hand and a paper bag containing doughnuts and the magazine in the other. He opened it, and my breath caught. I don’t know why. I’d seen him in a suit and tie a thousand times. But it was different today. For once, I didn’t feel the least bit angry that he looked so damn good—I felt excited.
“Hi. You look nice.”
“Thanks.” He shut the door behind me and reached for one of the coffee cups. “Oh my God, I need this.”
“It’s all yours.” I set the bag and carrier on the table, sort of disappointed he hadn’t kissed me hello. “How was the night?”
He took a few gulps of coffee before answering. “Fair. She woke up after you left and then again at the asscrack of dawn, but I think there was a four-hour stretch of sleep somewhere during the night. That was kind of amazing.”
“Ever think you’d be so happy to get a four-hour stretch of sleep?”
“Never. She’s napping right now, upstairs in my room. The monitor is on.” He picked up a leather messenger bag by the door and slung it over his shoulder. “I should head out. Call me if you need to. I’ll be back by 11:30.”
“Wait, don’t you want your doughnut?”
He opened the door and glanced at his watch. “I don’t really have time. Save it for me?”
“Okay.” I went to give him a hug, but it was kind of awkward because he didn’t hug me back. Granted, his hands were full—one held the coffee and the other was holding the door open—but he didn’t even lean into me or move at all. He just stood there. I gave his waist a quick squeeze and stepped back, but it was like hugging a tree trunk. “Bye.”
“Bye.” Halfway into the hallway, he looked back at me. “Oh, thanks for doing this. I owe you.”
“It’s no problem. See you later.”
The door closed, and he was gone.
I stood there for a moment in the silence, wondering why he seemed so cool and distant this morning—nothing like the guy who’d kissed me goodnight at the door last night, let alone the guy who’d ripped off my clothes and given me two orgasms on the couch, or even the guy who spoke softly and seriously about being worried he’d let me down because he wasn’t good at this. I’d felt special to him last night. This morning, I felt like a babysitter with a weird, inappropriate crush.
Sighing, I opened the bag of doughnuts and took out an apple fritter. I ate it standing at the big window overlooking the city, and decided I was being silly. He was probably just tired and distracted. Of course he was—he was going on four hours of sleep. He’d probably be different when he got home and could relax.
When Paisley woke up, I decided to take her for a walk after her bottle. I packed a little bag with some emergency supplies, bundled her up in the coat and leggings she’d arrived in, and strapped her into the stroller. Double checking to make sure I had Nate’s key with me, I locked the door when we left and texted Nate on the elevator ride down to the lobby.
Taking Paisley for a walk. Don’t worry, I have a key!
He didn’t text back.
Outside, I pushed the stroller four blocks up one side of the street, crossed over, and came back down the other. I didn’t see anyone I knew, but occasionally a stranger would peek into the stroller and smile. She’s adorable, they’d say. She has your chin, one woman told me. Daddy must have dark hair, said another, looking back and forth from me to Paisley. Rather than tell them she wasn’t mine, I smiled and said, Thank you and Does she really? and Yes, he does. I told myself it was easier to simply accept the compliments than explain whose baby she was, but secretly some part of me liked that people thought she was mine and Nate’s. It was stupid, of course. They didn’t know who Nate was. But in my mind, I allowed the fantasy to entertain me for a little while, unhealthy as it may have been.
Sometimes, a girl’s gotta have some dessert.
After the walk, I fed her again and put her down for her nap. Ten minutes later, I was sitting on the couch reading the Five Tips article when Nate came in.
“Hi,” I said, setting the magazine aside. “How did it go?”
“Fine.” He set his bag down, took off his suit coat, and tossed it onto a chair.
I waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, I asked, “Did you tell your boss?”
“Yeah.”
“Was she surprised?”
He rubbed his face with two hands. “To say the least. But she was very understanding. Apparently there’s some sort of provision for paternity leave at our firm, which I had no clue about, of course. But it allows me time off and keeps my job safe.”
“That’s good.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Will you take off the whole month?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“I think it’s a good idea. You need time to bond with her.”
“I guess.” He took his phone out of his pocket and started checking his messages.
Something was off. I could feel it.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” He frowned at his screen.
“You seem kind of upset.”
“I’m not.”
“Okaaaay.” I stood, hugging my magazine to my stomach. “Well, maybe I’ll see you later?”
Later, as I lay beneath the covers, I kept trying to poke and prod at my psyche, wondering if I was really okay with the sort of friends-with-benefits arrangement Nate and I had alluded to, or if I was lying to myself only so I could be with him. But no matter how many emotional rocks I turned over, I surprised myself by feeling okay. After all, the sex hadn’t been meaningless. It hadn’t felt cheap or gratuitous or impersonal. We hadn’t used each other like anatomically correct robots performing a mechanical act.
In short, I hadn’t felt like Slot B receiving Part A.
Had he thrown himself at my feet to declare his undying love? No. But that was okay. When it was over, I’d felt closer to him than I had before, and that was enough. And I liked that he’d been up front about his insecurities and his fear of disappointing me. Actual feelings! That felt like a huge step in a different direction. A new direction.
I’d move in a new direction, too. I certainly didn’t need to repeat my usual song and dance routine, the one where I hurled myself body, heart, and soul into a new relationship and expected the guy to do the same. It had backfired every time.
This time, I vowed, would be different.
I would be understanding. I would be patient. I would slow down and enjoy the ride, wherever it took us.
But I really, really hoped it took us somewhere together.
Monday morning, my alarm went off at 6:45 AM, and I smiled upon awakening, even though I’d only gotten about five hours of sleep. It was the happiest I’d felt in a long time.
While I was in the shower, I thought about texting Nate to see if he wanted me to bring him some breakfast. Our building had a little coffee shop downstairs that I usually hit on my way to work, and it carried doughnuts and muffins and other things, too. I hurried through my routine, and dried off, then wrapped my head in a towel and sat on my bed.
Me: Can I bring you anything from the shop downstairs?
Nate: Yes. I’d like a case of Red Bull, 6 lines of cocaine, and a Pixie Stick.
Me: Will you settle for a doughnut?
Nate: I guess, if you don’t have any cocaine.
Me: I’m fresh out. But I will bring you some coffee.
Nate: Thanks.
Smiling, I set my phone aside and got dressed, throwing on jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt that drooped off one shoulder. Beneath it I wore a black lace bralette that would peek out. Sexy but not too sexy. Comfy but not sloppy. I wore my hair down because Nate seemed to like it that way, brushed my teeth, and put on only a little makeup.
Down in the lobby shop, I grabbed the coffee and doughnuts, and on a whim also purchased a magazine whose cover advertised an article titled “Five Tips for Breaking Your Bad Relationship Patterns.” It might have been total nonsense, but I figured I had nothing to lose and everything to gain by doing things differently this time around.
A few minutes later, I knocked on his door, a drinks carrier in one hand and a paper bag containing doughnuts and the magazine in the other. He opened it, and my breath caught. I don’t know why. I’d seen him in a suit and tie a thousand times. But it was different today. For once, I didn’t feel the least bit angry that he looked so damn good—I felt excited.
“Hi. You look nice.”
“Thanks.” He shut the door behind me and reached for one of the coffee cups. “Oh my God, I need this.”
“It’s all yours.” I set the bag and carrier on the table, sort of disappointed he hadn’t kissed me hello. “How was the night?”
He took a few gulps of coffee before answering. “Fair. She woke up after you left and then again at the asscrack of dawn, but I think there was a four-hour stretch of sleep somewhere during the night. That was kind of amazing.”
“Ever think you’d be so happy to get a four-hour stretch of sleep?”
“Never. She’s napping right now, upstairs in my room. The monitor is on.” He picked up a leather messenger bag by the door and slung it over his shoulder. “I should head out. Call me if you need to. I’ll be back by 11:30.”
“Wait, don’t you want your doughnut?”
He opened the door and glanced at his watch. “I don’t really have time. Save it for me?”
“Okay.” I went to give him a hug, but it was kind of awkward because he didn’t hug me back. Granted, his hands were full—one held the coffee and the other was holding the door open—but he didn’t even lean into me or move at all. He just stood there. I gave his waist a quick squeeze and stepped back, but it was like hugging a tree trunk. “Bye.”
“Bye.” Halfway into the hallway, he looked back at me. “Oh, thanks for doing this. I owe you.”
“It’s no problem. See you later.”
The door closed, and he was gone.
I stood there for a moment in the silence, wondering why he seemed so cool and distant this morning—nothing like the guy who’d kissed me goodnight at the door last night, let alone the guy who’d ripped off my clothes and given me two orgasms on the couch, or even the guy who spoke softly and seriously about being worried he’d let me down because he wasn’t good at this. I’d felt special to him last night. This morning, I felt like a babysitter with a weird, inappropriate crush.
Sighing, I opened the bag of doughnuts and took out an apple fritter. I ate it standing at the big window overlooking the city, and decided I was being silly. He was probably just tired and distracted. Of course he was—he was going on four hours of sleep. He’d probably be different when he got home and could relax.
When Paisley woke up, I decided to take her for a walk after her bottle. I packed a little bag with some emergency supplies, bundled her up in the coat and leggings she’d arrived in, and strapped her into the stroller. Double checking to make sure I had Nate’s key with me, I locked the door when we left and texted Nate on the elevator ride down to the lobby.
Taking Paisley for a walk. Don’t worry, I have a key!
He didn’t text back.
Outside, I pushed the stroller four blocks up one side of the street, crossed over, and came back down the other. I didn’t see anyone I knew, but occasionally a stranger would peek into the stroller and smile. She’s adorable, they’d say. She has your chin, one woman told me. Daddy must have dark hair, said another, looking back and forth from me to Paisley. Rather than tell them she wasn’t mine, I smiled and said, Thank you and Does she really? and Yes, he does. I told myself it was easier to simply accept the compliments than explain whose baby she was, but secretly some part of me liked that people thought she was mine and Nate’s. It was stupid, of course. They didn’t know who Nate was. But in my mind, I allowed the fantasy to entertain me for a little while, unhealthy as it may have been.
Sometimes, a girl’s gotta have some dessert.
After the walk, I fed her again and put her down for her nap. Ten minutes later, I was sitting on the couch reading the Five Tips article when Nate came in.
“Hi,” I said, setting the magazine aside. “How did it go?”
“Fine.” He set his bag down, took off his suit coat, and tossed it onto a chair.
I waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, I asked, “Did you tell your boss?”
“Yeah.”
“Was she surprised?”
He rubbed his face with two hands. “To say the least. But she was very understanding. Apparently there’s some sort of provision for paternity leave at our firm, which I had no clue about, of course. But it allows me time off and keeps my job safe.”
“That’s good.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Will you take off the whole month?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“I think it’s a good idea. You need time to bond with her.”
“I guess.” He took his phone out of his pocket and started checking his messages.
Something was off. I could feel it.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” He frowned at his screen.
“You seem kind of upset.”
“I’m not.”
“Okaaaay.” I stood, hugging my magazine to my stomach. “Well, maybe I’ll see you later?”
