35. Bridget
CHAPTER 35
Bridget
I hold the apartment door open as Ethan walks in. His gait doesn’t have the confident swagger it used to, and it hurts wondering if it’s because of me.
“We need to talk,” I start as I motion for the couch.
“Fuck, that’s never a good start,” he says as he sits on the couch next to me. It isn’t lost on me that he’s sitting as close to me as he can without touching me.
“There’s no easy way to say this?—”
“Just rip the fucking Band-Aid off,” he pleads.
Shit, he thinks I’m breaking up with him. I place a hand on his thigh. “A few days ago, I realized that I hadn’t gotten my period and that I was a week late.” His eyes connect with mine, and I don’t see the emotions I expected to see there. I know he said he didn’t want kids, but part of me was sure that the thought of me pregnant would make him happy—yet he’s not smiling.
“The night before Thanksgiving,” he says quietly. “But you were on birth control. Fuck!” he yells, anger lacing his words as he stands. I remain still, giving him space to process his feelings, completely understanding where he’s coming from since I felt the same way when I found out.
“Shit, okay, we’ll figure this out.” He sits and turns to me with a look of determination as he squeezes my hand. “I’ll support you, whatever you want to do.”
“I’m not pregnant. It was a false alarm. Probably residual hormone issues from my remaining ovary or the hormones in the pill fucking with my system.”
A look of relief washes over his face. “Thank fuck. Sorry, that sounds awful, but like I told you, I am not interested in having kids. We’d figure it out if you were pregnant, but I’m so thankful you’re not.”
“You really don’t want to be a father?”
“I honestly don’t. I kind of feel like an asshole for my reaction to the idea that you might be pregnant, though.”
“You’re not an asshole for not wanting kids.” I laugh at the irony of my words.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve never wanted kids, and I’m always made to feel like an asshole because of it. I never thought I’d be convincing you of the same thing I have difficulty believing for myself. Because everyone expects me to want to be a mom, but I absolutely don’t want that.”
“You’re not an asshole.”
“But I kind of am. Not because of the not wanting to be a mom thing, but because of how I’ve treated you. When I thought I was pregnant, I wasn’t initially as terrified as I thought I would be. Since the day I met you, I’ve felt wanted and cherished. The more time we spent together, the more you made me feel loved and cared for, even when I didn’t want it. Even when I felt I didn’t deserve it.”
“You deserve to be loved, Bridget. I’m sorry that you felt rejected by past boyfriends and friends. That was their problem, their insecurities. It was not a reflection of what you deserved. And I hate that you spent most of your life convincing yourself that you were the problem, that you didn’t deserve happiness. Because the right person for you is worth the drama.”
A tear trickles down my cheek as Ethan’s thumb swipes it away. “It’s still weird that the past boyfriend you’re referring to is your father.”
“Yeah, it didn’t feel right to say ‘I’m sorry my dad cheated on you and made you feel unworthy.’ I’m still pissed at him. He fucked up, and you deserve better than how he treated you.”
I blow out a deep breath, overwhelmed by my emotions and the weight of my confession. “I’ve never opened up like this to anyone before. It feels like my thoughts are scattered, and I’m all over the place, talking in circles, but bear with me while I get this all out.
“I spent a lot of time on my own trying to move past those feelings, thinking I could use men for sex and skip the relationship part. It served me for a while, but deep down, I was never truly happy. But you made me happy—you make me happy. And while I’m thankful I’m not pregnant, part of me was devastated. Because if I was pregnant, it meant that I’d be bound to you in an unbreakable way. It forced me to think about the future, and the thought of being tied to you forever gave me hope. And when I realized I might have lost that permanent connection to you, it hurt more than anything has.
“My love for you is bigger than my anger with him. Greater than my fear. Larger than my loneliness. It’s crazy when you think about it. The way he hurt me and the way he raised you shaped us into the people we are. The pain he caused me could only be healed by you, and you never would’ve been able to do that if he hadn’t raised you the way he did. It’s as if you were made for me.”
He moves his hand to my thigh, making small circles with his thumb as I continue, “I don’t want to have a baby, but I want to be tied to you. I want you in my life like that. After Thanksgiving, I was in shock. I couldn’t believe you were Henry’s son and that I’d fallen in love with you. And then I was angry, feeling like I could never be with you because it meant having Henry in my life too, and I don’t know if I can do that. And I won’t ask you to break ties with him. All of that made me feel helpless. Mad that I couldn’t have you, and looking for any way I could bargain with the universe so that we could be together. And after I missed my period, I felt depressed. I finally had to accept that I’d have to learn how to be happy without you.”
Ethan leans in closer, and the scent of his cologne floods my senses, creating a visceral feeling in my brain. Sea salt, bergamot, citrus—it smells like him, like home.
“Fuck that. Why can’t you have me? I want to be tied to you like that too. I’ve wanted that since the first night I met you. I know this stuff with my dad is complicated, but he’s the complication. Not me. Not you. You and I are easy. We fit. We can figure out everything else together.” His hands cup the sides of my face, pulling me into him as my arms wrap around his shoulders. “I love you more than anything in this world, Bridget. I’d choose you over anything else. Over anyone else. We can get through this. Please, sweetheart, say you’ll try, please,” he begs as he presses his forehead against mine.
I pull back and stare into his eyes, ready to bare my soul to another person. To my person. “You’re my first. Not my first kiss or my first fuck, and not the first to utter those words. You’re the first man in my life to show me what ‘I love you’ actually means. The first to make me feel like I am enough.
“You’re the only person who has ever truly chosen me. And I pushed you away. I’m sorry it took me this long to see it. No one’s ever put me first. Cared about me more than others, than themselves. The attention you gave me because of that was overwhelming. I didn’t know what to do with it.” His eyes fill with concern, and he releases his hold on my cheeks before I clasp his wrists, holding them in place to let him know that I need his soothing touch.
“Your father hurt me deeply. We were children, young and selfish. You said he’d always wanted a big family, which makes sense. He was following his heart.”
“And his dick,” Ethan interjects through clenched teeth. I smooth a hand on his cheek and continue.
“True, but I was selfish too. I had goals for my life, and I wasn’t willing to put anyone ahead of them, not Henry, not anyone. Until you. I held on to that hurt and turned it into a shield to protect myself, but somewhere along the way, I was also using it as a weapon, pushing away person after person. I isolated myself, never truly letting anyone in for fear of getting hurt. And it wasn’t just romantically. The number of friendships I have held at arm’s length is larger than I care to admit. And I probably would’ve done it to Becka too, if she hadn’t been so persistent. It’s hard for me not to be that way.
“The first time I let someone into my heart, they betrayed me. And it wasn’t just him. I lost so many friends after he cheated on me. No one wanted to be associated with me, and my friends picked his side which made me feel selfish for being upset. They said I should have been more understanding because they were having a baby together. As if creating a child justified him leaving me. It’s another reason why I never wanted to have kids.”
He kisses my forehead. “I’m not my father. It’ll be a while before I can be around him. And it kills me that my existence changed the course of your life. That it made you never want to have children of your own. But in some fucked up way, it feels like it was supposed to happen this way. There is too much about us that just makes sense, too much that fits together so perfectly. Women my age can’t accept that I don’t want kids, but you accept it, even if you fought it at first. I came from a loud, big family, but I crave the kind of quiet life that you have. And if your quiet is ever too much, a quick visit with my family or friends will scratch that itch.”
I pin him with a stern look. “It may be a long time before I feel comfortable around parts of your family. But I’m willing to try. I might need a free pass to escape if it’s too much.”
“You know I’d do anything for you, hellcat. You’re it for me. And never has anyone been a more perfect match for me sexually.”
“No one’s ever cared about all the little things that make me happy. You care about what kind of ice I like, and you not only listened to how I take my coffee, but you applied that knowledge to make it better. You went through my whole nighttime skincare routine, and you watched videos to pick up pointers to improve it because you knew it was important to me.
“You’ve shared parts of yourself with me that you’ve never given to anyone else. And you never tried to change me. Never made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. You pay attention to all the little things that make me happy. You’ve put my happiness over your own like it was nothing. And it didn’t hurt you. Didn’t even break you. How do you do that? I’m willing to learn. Because over the past few weeks, I’ve figured out some things. I’m lonely when I’m not with you. I’ve never felt lonely when alone, until you. And I honestly care about your happiness. I want to know what kind of ice you prefer. What are all the little things that make you happy?”
“You make me happy,” he says sporting a huge grin, his dimple making me smile.
“I don’t want to be without you. I know I’ve done nothing but push you away. But you never flinched. You waited. You were patient and kind. I don’t scare you, even though everything about this, everything about loving another person this much scares me. Being this vulnerable and open terrifies me. Being without you these past few weeks hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced. It hurt more than losing any other relationship.”
“You don’t know how much I appreciate you sharing that with me, for letting me in and trusting me with your heart. I promise I’ll take care of it because I choose you. Not the life you think I want. That’s not what I want. I want you. All of you. All your broken pieces that you’ve hidden from the world. The parts of you that only I get to see. I’m more than happy with the life I’ve chosen. The life you’ve chosen. It’s ours. I helped raise five sisters, and I’m sure my siblings will have more kids than that between them. I’m content only being an uncle. What I’m not okay with is not being your partner. You’re my home, and I’m more than content with you as my family. You’re everything I need. Just you. Your happiness is my happiness.”
“I love you so fucking much, and I’m sorry it took me this long to let you in. Now shut the fuck up and kiss me. I’m done talking.”
He pulls me in for a bruising kiss. It’s passionate and desperate, both of us clawing at each other like we can’t get close enough to each other as he pulls me to straddle his lap.
I don’t know how we’ll navigate everything, but I know we’re better together.