Chapter 15
fifteen
HUNTER
Something’s wrong.
All day, Elaina’s been…off. And, as usual when it comes to the women in my life, I have no idea what I’ve done to upset her.
I thought I’d confirmed that everything was good between us last night before we went to bed, but maybe I was mistaken.
“You hate the fish?” I ask, earning a startled look from my dinner companion.
“What? No! It’s great,” Elaina says, stabbing a piece of the flaky branzino for the first time since it was delivered several minutes ago. She pops it between her lips, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “Oh, wow,” she murmurs around the bite, her hand hovering in front of her mouth. “It really is good. The char is fantastic.”
I arch a pointed brow, and she offers a sheepish grin.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’ve been…thinking.”
“About?” I take a slow sip of my wine, buying myself time to study her face in the warm light of the restaurant.
She’s wearing another vintage cocktail dress, this one in a deep red that brings out the pink in her cheeks and hugs her curves like it was made for her. But tonight, her usual sex kitten energy is muted by the tension in her shoulders and the way she fidgets with her napkin.
She hasn’t stopped playing with the linen square since we sat down, her normally graceful hands betraying her anxiety as she twists the napkin in knots.
“About our plan. About the baby,” she says, setting her fork down and reaching for her wine. She takes a fortifying gulp before adding, “I know your mom is baby crazy, and we agreed to proceed in a certain way, but I’m wondering if maybe we should slow our roll a little. I mean, would it be so bad to put off trying again for a month or two?”
“Any particular reason?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.
Years of high-stakes negotiations have taught me to mask my thoughts, but I’ve never had to work as hard at it as am right now. Something about this still feels wrong. Not the request itself—that’s perfectly reasonable—but the way she’s making it.
And the timing…
She’s suddenly having second thoughts about getting knocked up with my child just one day after I botched my fake proposal.
That has to be the problem. She’s been pulling away from me ever since. It makes me wish I could turn back time and give her fair warning about what I was planning.
But I’d thought I had the matter well in hand, and that she might even enjoy the surprise. Clearly, I was wrong, and I’m apparently just as clueless as I’ve always been.
It’s frustrating as hell.
And…upsetting.
I don’t want Elaina to pull away from me. Our connection may be temporary, but I want it to last a hell of a lot longer than a week or two.
She takes a deep breath, as if she’s steeling herself, and I find myself doing the same. “I’ve just been thinking about my business plans. If I’m going to launch something new, I should probably do it before I get pregnant, and get things off the ground before life gets too crazy. If I don’t, who knows when I’ll have the time. Babies aren’t something that get easier after a month or two, you know.”
It’s a reasonable explanation.
Almost too reasonable. Like she practiced that speech in front of a mirror until she was sure she’d nail the delivery. Elaina isn’t usually one for rehearsed speeches. She’s spontaneous, ruthlessly authentic. It’s one of the things I like best about her.
But she has a point.
I think…
“I actually don’t know,” I confess. “But I can imagine the first year or two of motherhood are fairly labor intensive.”
“Yeah, they are,” she says. “And year three doesn’t get any easier. That’s when potty training starts, which is a whole other level of intense.”
I blink. “They don’t learn to use the toilet until they’re three? Are you sure?”
She smiles, one of her real ones, as she says, “Yes, I’m sure. You really have no clue about kids, do you?”
I lift a shoulder as I skewer another bite of grilled prawn. “No, I don’t. It isn’t one of my areas of expertise.”
“It’s not really mine, either,” she says. “But I have older friends with kids back home. They’ve shared horror stories about how hard it is to potty train their kids, especially the boys.”
“Boys are always more difficult, aren’t we?”
She laughs, seeming more like herself with every passing moment. Maybe this really is the thing that’s been bothering her…
“Yeah, you are,” she says, forking another bite of fish. “But you’re worth it.” She winks. “Sometimes.”
I smile. “I appreciate that. And I think waiting a month or two is fine.”
“Yeah? You’re not upset?” she asks, the vulnerability in her gaze tugging at something deep in my chest.
“No, I’m not,” I say. “And I…” I clear my throat and take a beat, wanting to make sure I get this right. “I’ve been thinking, too. In light of the way things have developed… And after seeing my mother so happy yesterday, just to see us engaged…” I clear my throat again. “I’m open to amending the contract to remove the pregnancy clause. We can void it entirely, if you’d like. I would have suggested it earlier, but I didn’t want you to think I was trying to back out on my part of the deal. If we make a child together, I am still fully committed to financially supporting you both. I would never want you, or your baby, to want for anything.”
She bites her lip, sadness flashing behind her eyes.
“Was that the wrong thing to say?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, it was a lovely thing to say, I just…” She shakes her head as she stabs another bite of fish but makes no move to bring it to her lips. “It’s just the ‘your’ baby part. It wouldn’t just be mine , Hunter. It would be ours . And every time I looked at our son or daughter moving forward, I would think of you. Every day for the rest of my life.”
“And that isn’t something you want,” I say, my throat going tight, making further devotion to my meal impossible. “Being reminded of me would make you miserable.”
Elaina looks up, her expression as sober as I’ve ever seen it. “No, Hunter. It would make me miss you. Because I…” She trails off, swallowing with obvious effort before she adds, “I like you. I…more than like you.”
“I more than like you, too,” I say softly, reaching for her hand. She lets me take it, and I give her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need. Or want the same things you want. If I could change, I would. But…”
“But you can’t,” she finishes softly, returning the squeeze. “I get it. I can’t change, either. Neither of us is wrong or bad, we’re just not on the same page.” Her lips curve in a determined smile. “Which is another reason I think we should pump the brakes. Why rush to the end of this? The longer it takes to make a baby, the longer it takes for the baby to be born, and the more time we get to spend together having fantastic sex.”
I smile. It feels a little sad on my face, but I’m as determined as she is to put this conversation behind us. “The sex is fantastic. But I hate condoms. With a fiery passion. I’m not looking forward to rolling one on again.”
“Ugh, me, either. Condoms suck.” She laughs as she releases my hand. “If we decide to skip the baby thing entirely, I could always get another IUD. Then we can bang like bare little bunnies with no worries.”
“Sounds good,” I say, ignoring the odd tug of regret in my chest.
So, my mother’s dream for a grandchild doesn’t come true. I doubt she’ll be surprised by that, and she truly is over-the-moon about the engagement. She’s been texting me links to wedding venues all day and told me how happy she is for us at least five times.
“Does it?” Elaina presses after a beat. “You wouldn’t feel like you’re letting your mom down?”
“Your well-being comes first,” I say. “That’s what my mother would want and it’s what I want. Like I said, I more than like you, too, Elaina. And that’s not something I’ve said often in my life. It means something to me. You mean something to me.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her wide eyes searching my face. The charged silence stretches between us, underscored by the murmur of other diners, the gentle clink of silverware against fine china, and the pounding of my heart as I wait for her to decide if she’s open to accepting my affection.
Fuck, I hate this.
It’s so much easier to remain cold and closed off, with my heart locked away, protected by the ruthless asshole part I play so well. And sometimes I am a ruthless asshole, but I don’t want to be that person with her.
I never did…
I’m not sure who I want to be anymore. All I know is that I’ve never felt the way I feel about Elaina Murphy. And the thought of telling her “goodbye” for good makes me feel like I’m drowning.
“You’re full of surprises, Mr. M,” she finally murmurs.
“Good ones, I hope.”
“Very good ones,” she says, before tucking into her meal in earnest.
The rest of dinner passes pleasantly, things seemingly back to normal between us. I tell her about my meeting with the team I hired to overhaul the shipping company, now that the deal is done, and she tells me about her research on communal bathhouses.
“They’re apparently enjoying a huge resurgence,” she says. “People like getting naked together more than I would have thought.”
I grunt. “Have you ever been to one? I had a client who wanted to meet at the Russian baths downtown a few years ago. If I never see another pair of saggy old man balls sweating in a sauna, it will be too soon.”
She laughs. “Ew. Yeah, that sounds disgusting. I’m looking into female-only bathhouses. There’s one in Denver that’s doing such incredible business they’ve had to open a second location on the other side of the city.” She shrugs. “I mean, I’m not totally sold on the idea as the idea, but I like the thought of giving women a place to relax and be pampered on a budget. And a safe space to build community that brings all ages together. That’s something really special that’s missing from our modern world.”
I nod, seeing her point. “You should do some more research, then. It’s definitely a service space with room to grow. I don’t know of any female-only bathhouses in Manhattan. The one I went to was all male, and it closed down last year.”
The conversation is good and dessert—a raspberry coulis—is even better. But beneath it all, there’s a current of…something. Not tension, but an enhanced awareness of where we stand.
Awareness of how quickly we’re becoming so much more than fuck buddies.
Awareness of how much we both care.
And awareness that caring isn’t enough to bridge the distance between us, not even close.
Later that night, as I roll on a condom—hating the sensation of anything between us, even thin latex—I can’t help noticing how different everything feels.
Not just physically, but emotionally.
As I glide inside her, a strange mix of relief and disappointment churns in my chest. Relief, because this change of plans will give us more time. Disappointment, because deep down, I know we’re only delaying the inevitable.
But then Elaina’s hands are on my face, and she’s kissing me like she skipped dinner, and I’m the only thing that could possibly ease her hunger, and I stop thinking about anything except how good we are together.
How right she feels in my arms, how easy it is to give her pleasure, how much I need her, like I’ve never needed anyone before.
Afterward, as she drifts off to sleep, her back tucked to my front, I lie awake wondering how I got here.
How I went from being perfectly content with my solo life plan, to hating the thought of a future without her in it.
I kiss her hair, memorizing the smell of her shampoo, the feel of her curvy ass cradling my cock, the way she mutters beneath her breath as she starts to dream…
And wonder if there’s a path forward to a dream we can dream together.