“I think he is.”
“Well, let me know. I’m booking this week.” I guess I should invite Emi soon.
After the game, I barely have the door closed to my house before Emi pulls my head to hers and wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me. I can still taste the fruity wine that she may have drank too much of on her lips and tongue. “What are you doing, Poppet?” I mumble.
“Trying to seduce you...”
“We’re going to your place, remember?”
“I know, but I can’t wait,” she says.
“Well, you have to,” I state, pulling away from her and prying her arms from my neck. An adorable pout spreads across her lips. I have to look away to keep from capturing that bottom lip with mine. God, what she does to me. “I need to check a few voicemails and emails. I’ll make quick work of it. Do you want to go put some things together for me?”
“Okay,” she says, frowning and crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Ten minutes, tops,” I assure her. She nods before going upstairs as I dial into my voicemail. I head into my office, looking for a pen and paper to make some notes. After booting up the computer, one message stands out from all the others. It’s from Nate’s mother, with the subject “Story-time Schedule at Children’s Hospital.”
Jackson, it begins. It was a pleasure running into you and Emily today. I must say I was a little surprised to see the two of you together, but pleasantly so. She is very important to me and deserves to be happy. Anyway, the point of this message is to send you a schedule of story-hour at the hospital. It’s changed a little over the past year– Mondays and Fridays instead of Tuesdays and Thursdays– but I hope you can still work us into your busy schedule. You can even bring Emily if you’d like. Her smile was always as contagious as yours. Let me know when you can come by! And, Jackson, please... take care...
I re-read the last line. Of her? I’m probably reading too much into it. But of course I’ll take care of her. I’ll spend my life doing whatever it takes to see that contagious smile. My lips curl up at the thought.
Seconds after I click on the next message from a client overseas, my chair is whirled around to face Emi. She’s grinning mischievously, holding my suitcase in one hand and something else in the other. I scan her from head to bare foot. She seems to only be wearing the jersey. My eyes glance up to meet hers.
“You have a choice to make.”
“Do I?” I ask, leaning back into the chair.
“Yes.”
“Emi, why are you wearing that?”
“Because I said you could do the honors. Remember?”
“I meant why aren’t you wearing anything else,” I clarify, suspicious.
“That goes back to your choice.”
“And the options are...”
“I’ve packed your suitcase with everything you need,” she says as she sets the suitcase down on the floor. “So we can go over to my place whenever you’re finished.”
“Or...” I urge her to continue.
“Or we stay here and you can have me, right now.”
I look away from her, my heart set on going to her loft. I don’t know why I’m so decided on this. I feel like I’m trying to prove something to myself by staying there instead of here. I want her to feel comfortable being intimate with me over there. Until she is, I’ll always feel like she’s still holding on to a piece of him.
“Thanks for packing,” I tell her, sounding detached and standing up. “And I’m finished here, so let’s go to the loft.”
“Oh, one thing,” she says, stopping me as I begin to walk past.
“Yes?”
“You have to dress me first. Starting here.” She holds my hands in hers, placing whatever else she was holding into my palms and folding my fingers around it. I look more closely as she drops her hands to her side. Her silk panties... that she’s no longer wearing. I sigh heavily, conceding defeat when she begins to raise the hem of the jersey up her thighs. “Go on,” she teases.
“You’re a little minx, you know that?”
“A little minx who thinks five days is too long to wait for her boyfriend to make love to her... and I don’t want to wait a second longer.”
“Well, I won’t make you wait, Poppet. Let’s go.” She takes me by the hand and drags me up the stairs with her, undressing me quickly, frantically, on the way up. By the time we make it to the bedroom, the jersey is the only article of clothing left between the two of us.
“Okay, take it off,” she says as she anxiously bounces on the tips of her toes.
“Where did my sweet and patient girlfriend go?” I ask her as I kneel in front of her. Very slowly, I lift the hem of the shirt up, planting thoughtful kisses up her body, inch by inch.
“I think the wine had its way with her. You’re left with me.” She kneels in front of me and takes the jersey from my hands, pulling it over her head and tossing it across the room.
“That was my job,” I argue playfully, pulling her naked chest into mine.
“You were taking too long,” she says as she kisses me. “And you said you wouldn’t make me wait.” She lies back on the carpet and pulls me down with her. “Make love to me, please?” she whispers desperately.
“You don’t want to move up to the bed?”
“Why are you stalling?” she asks with a smile, her eyes pleading with me, her body pushing against mine. “I want you.”
“Just one second,” I laugh, kneeling up. She tugs on my arm, barely giving me enough time to open up the night stand and pull out the last– the last?– foil packet from the drawer.
“So, who looks better in the jersey? Me or Messier?” Emi asks after we make love, pulling the sweater back on to keep her warm. My chest acts as a pillow for her head as we continue to lie on the floor of my bedroom.
“Messier, no question,” I answer, staring up at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze when she snaps her head in my direction.
“Really?” she asks with a disbelieving tone in her voice.
“Really,” I tell her, now looking into her eyes. “What?” She kneels up, putting one leg on either side of my body, crossing her arms in front of her. “You look better out of the jersey. In fact,” I uncross her arms, “let me take another look.” I sit up to remove the jersey from her body. “Thanks for letting me do it that time.” I ball up the shirt and throw it far across the room, hoping she won’t put it back on again. She holds on to the waistband of my boxers as I lie back down to look at her. “Yes, definitely better out of the jersey,” I mumble quietly.
“I’m cold,” she shivers. I tug the comforter off the bed and wrap it around her shoulders.
“Come lie back down,” I encourage her by pulling her shoulders down. She kisses my lips once before resting her head on my shoulder, shifting her body next to mine. I kiss the top of her head and we both sigh contentedly together.
“This is nice, Jack,” she says.
“It is,” I agree. I stroke her soft hair gently, listening to the hum of the heater. “You know, Em,” I begin. “As much as I like having you here, I think the loft deserves a little love, too.”
“I know,” she says.
“Is there any particular reason you didn’t want to go over there tonight?”
“It just...” I stay quiet in hopes she’ll continue. “It just didn’t feel right earlier.”
“I just wish you could try. It would mean a lot to me.”
“I will. I promise. I mean, I packed your bag, we could have gone. You chose–”
“Emi,” I stop her. “You knew what you were doing.”
“I know,” she admits again. “But I really like your house.”
“Thank you,” I say after a brief silence. “I kind of like it, too. And I like it even better when you’re here, with me.” This may be as good a time as any... “So, remember when you asked me why I decided to get this house?”
“Yes, it was on our first date.”
“Remember when I said there was a st
ory behind it?”
“Yes...”
“Would you like to hear it?”
“Of course I would.” I move slightly so I can face her, and offer half of the pillow to her. After kissing the tip of her nose, I settle in for the uncomfortable conversation.
“So why did I decide to get this house?” I sigh. Her smile encourages me. “It was actually a gift.”
“A gift?” Her eyes widen with curiosity. “From who?”
“Me.”
“Oh. Well, then, for whom?”
“Uhhh...” I hesitate only slightly, but it’s still too long. “For my fiancée.” I search her eyes for her reaction. She looks confused, her eyes squinting.
“Fiancée. You were engaged? I mean, I feel like I should have known that already.”
“I know, but it just never came up.” I take her hand in mine, entwine her fingers and kiss the back of her hand.
“Wait, was she ever your wife?”
“No,” I confirm quickly. “And it was so far in the past, I jus–”
“How far in the past?” she interrupts.
“We broke up a little over three years ago.”
“Huh.” She nods and bites her lip before diverting her eyes to our hands. “How long did she live here?” she asks, her face slightly cringing as if she may not want to know the answer.
“Only a month... not even... Emi, look at me.”
“Tell me about her.” Her eyes challenge mine. “What happened?”
“I love you,” I assure her. “I always have.”
“What’s her name?”
“Caroline.”
“And when did you meet Caroline?”
“I guess it was about five and a half years ago. At Harvard, she was a friend of a friend.”
“You dated a long time.”
“We did. We dated about two years before I asked her to marry me. It was more like a business proposition. She and I were very much alike... very rational, very career-minded.”
“So you had a lot in common?”
“I guess you could say that,” I respond. “But not the important things.”
“Like...”
“Well... as soon as she said yes to my proposal, I started seriously considering a family... and I wanted children. Kelly had just given birth to Andrew, and he had some health issues when he was born. She and Thomas were visiting doctors all over the country, and I spent a lot of time watching the other three kids while they were gone.
“I got pretty attached. Caroline spent a little time with them, too; never as much as I would have liked her to. But her job was pretty demanding so I never forced the issue. She was stressed out a lot.”
Emi sits up and pulls part of the comforter with her, her back against the bed. She rests her arms on her knees, her head on her arms. Contemplative, her pale green eyes stay on mine as she listens.
“I didn’t want to put any extra pressure on her, but the time I spent with those kids made me feel whole. No matter what I was going through, work-wise, they put everything into perspective. I looked forward to my time with them. Instead of stressing me out, they calmed me down. They brought me balance. I figured if Caroline just gave them some time, she would find the same thing.
“I mean, we had talked about kids many times, casually.” I roll over on my back and close my eyes, remembering the dull but familiar pain. “I knew I wanted them... she would always just say that she wasn’t ready yet. I thought she just needed time to adjust to the idea.”
“So the house...” Emi interjects impatiently. I again roll onto my side to see her.
“The house,” I smile at her, touching her toes playfully under the blanket. She not-so-subtly kicks my hand away. “Em...” I plead. “Don’t do this, please.”
“The house?” she repeats.
I stare at her, unblinking, my jaw locked. I swallow and sigh before continuing, resigned. “I had this grand idea to surprise her with this house for Christmas. She had always loved the neighborhood, the brownstones, so I bought this house in the fall and worked with an architect to create this haven for us. Big kitchen, nice living area for entertaining, peaceful bedroom, spa-like bathroom, state-of-the-art office...
“And she loved it all... and then I took her downstairs. As soon as she saw the bedrooms down there, which I had decorated for my nieces and nephews, knowing they’d make perfect rooms for our own children someday in the future, she freaked out.” I couldn’t help but notice how Emi flinched when I said our own children.
“She told me she never wanted to have kids. After much persuading, she agreed to stay for awhile. We tried to work through it, but in the end, I wasn’t going to give in... and she wasn’t willing to, either. So she left.”
Emi puts her head down, her face now hidden from me. I sit up to watch her. “How did that make you feel?” she asks.
“It was hard,” I tell her, “at the time... but it never really felt right.”
I reach across to touch her arm and take her hand into mine. She lets it lay in my palm, limp. “Emi, listen to me.”
“I’m listening,” she says, her voice annoyed.
“Em, I missed the spark, too. I searched for it over the years, as well. I was just settling for her.” I move closer to her and lift her head up. She looks hurt. “Believe me when I tell you this, Em, I couldn’t be happier that she left. I’ve got what I always wanted now... you...”
“Why have you never told me this?” she asks in a hushed voice.
“Because it wasn’t important. She wasn’t important.”
“You were going to marry someone who wasn’t even important to you?”
“Emi, don’t twist my words around. She was important then. But she’s not now. And she’s not you. You are the only thing that matters to me now, you know that.”
“Do I?”
“Don’t,” I warn her, my tone serious. “Don’t question my feelings for you because of this. Caroline has nothing to do with me and you.”
“It’s not Caroline. It’s just the fact that you’ve been hiding this from me.”
“I have not,” I argue. “This is the first time it’s come up, Emi, that’s all.”
“The second time. You could have told me when I first asked.”
“Like I didn’t mess up that night enough with my honesty,” I remind her. “Are you going to storm out tonight, too?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m going to storm out of your bedroom... I just want some time alone.”
“Emi, come on, this is no big deal.”
“I think it is,” she says as she pulls the entire comforter off of me while standing up. She wraps it around her body tightly and walks out of the room, the edges of the blanket following her like a train.
Emi is lying on my bed, her back to me, when I come out of the shower. She makes no motion to face me, and I watch her from across the room. She’s still here. That’s progress. I walk to the edge of the bed, leaning over and whispering into her ear. “I know you just need to process this, and it’s fine. But it really is nothing. You must know, it’s always been you.”
She blinks twice and sighs. “I just don’t know why you kept it from me,” she mumbles.
“I don’t think I did.” I sit down on the edge of the bed. “I never brought it up because I don’t see how it affects you and me at all. How I acquired this house shouldn’t matter. My past relationship with a woman who could never make me as happy as you do shouldn’t matter. Dwelling on the past is something you and I don’t need to do. Our lives exist in the present, and in the future.”
“But you wanted to marry her.”
“It was just the natural progression of things. I’m so glad it didn’t work out, though, Emi.”
“What if it gets to that point with us?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you propose to me someday, how will I know it really means something, and isn’t just the next logical step in our relationship?”
“You’re not l
istening to me, Emi.” I push her hair out of her face. “You mean something to me. And I think it’s safe to say I toss all logic aside when it comes to you. If this relationship was based on logic, I’m not so sure we would have one. A logical man doesn’t pursue a woman because of a single kiss. A logical man has needs and doesn’t abstain from sex for months and months on end while subjecting himself to regular meetings with the one woman he can’t keep his mind– or his hands– off of.” It looks like she’s trying to withhold a smile. I kiss her cheek.
“I... feel... things with you, Em, that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I don’t know why you doubt me... but whatever the reasons, just rest assured that I’ll keep doing whatever I have to do to erase those doubts.”
She still doesn’t respond, just keeps staring toward the sliding glass door that leads to the patio overlooking the backyard. “I’m going to get dinner started. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbles.
“Well, if you decide you are, I’ll make enough for both of us.”
After finishing cooking dinner and setting the table, I go back upstairs to ask Emi to join me. She’s no longer in the bedroom. I begin to worry that she left when I finally find her in the girl’s room in the basement. She’s still wrapped up in my comforter, sitting on the edge of one of the daybeds and holding a stuffed monkey in her hands.
“Emi?” I ask from the doorway, not wanting to startle her.
“Come here,” she says softly. I kneel on the floor in front of her, and she pulls me in for a kiss. “Personally, I like these rooms.”
“Thank you.” I smile earnestly.
“I like what they represent. And I think you will be an incredible father.”
“Again, thank you.” She kisses me again.
“I love you,” she tells me, and before I can return the sentiment, her lips are on mine again. When we part, she continues. “If we end up, you know, together...” she blushes, “I want to have your children.”