Chapter 31
31
[Ruthie]
I don’t know why I am so upset. His question was innocent enough.
When this year is over, what will you do?
But wasn’t it only last night we were talking about a baby? A baby is more than a year commitment. A baby is for life.
He’d been the one who said for us . Doesn’t that imply a future? A forever? Together.
Like everything else about Bolan Adler, he’s a storm. The unpredictable kind that trips into a ballroom and seduces you into something you’ve never done before. Or kisses you breathless when you’ve only just met.
Or mentions things like love and babies, but then tosses out things like when this year is over , suggesting an end date on all the things we’re pretending. The things that don’t feel fake.
Like kisses and orgasms. Laughter and quiet moments. Tulane .
My eyes water at the flash of memories and the instant sense of rejection.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about a year from our start date, focusing on what I’d do with myself once the calendar flipped, and our contract was fulfilled.
I’d considered returning to school and started researching local colleges. Chicago has five city colleges, several of which offer master’s degrees in education. My plan had been to revive that dream of being a teacher and head into a classroom with twenty or so little Tulane-like beings, all needing guidance and education.
But I also really enjoy being Tulane’s mom, as Bolan so easily and generously deemed me, while claiming Tulane was the one to pick me. Spending time with only her feels like a once in a lifetime experience. She’ll never be the age she is again, and I want to soak up being the sideline coach to her life as she develops.
So, Bolan’s question pisses me off, especially after decisions I made during my short jaunt in California. I imploded my life to be here in Chicago. Exploded everything for him.
In many ways, that’s not the full truth. In other ways, I’m damning myself again. For falling so easily into a familiar pattern. Clinging to a man, following his path instead of my own.
Bolan had been my ticket out, like I’d once too harshly stated to him. But it is time to be my own ticket master. I am in charge of the show, or more appropriately the game, and it was time for me to step up to the plate and swing.
With a heavy sigh, I sink into the couch, holding the toddler book on my lap while staring at the blank television screen across the room.
Change is frightening, and I lift my gaze to the dark staircase leading to the second floor, knowing how Bolan feels. His fear that he’s one injury away from never playing a game he loves again. One wrong hit or bad catch and he’s facing a future he hasn’t thought about yet.
Within seconds, I hear his large feet pad down the wooden staircase until he’s standing beside the couch. I’m seated in the deep V that joins the two sides of the L-shape.
Bolan reaches over me, tugging the cushions at my side free and tossing them to the floor. Once finished, he climbs over me, collapses to his side, back to the cushion-free couch, and wedges his head underneath my arm, forcing me to lift the one, so he can settle his head on my chest. I set my book on the cushions on my other side. He wraps his arms around my waist, and lugs one heavy leg over both of mine which are now outstretched before me.
“What the hell?” I chuckle despite myself, feeling like a giant labrador has just weaseled his way onto my lap when he isn’t a lap-sized dog.
“I don’t know what I said to upset you, but I don’t want to sleep without you.” He presses his head into my sternum, rubbing his nose back and forth before settling his cheek against me. He squeezes me tighter.
“We’re going to have too many future nights apart, flower. I need to soak up all the nights we have together.”
I blink, startled by the honest admission and set my arm loosely over his shoulders. My fingers find the back of his head and massage his scalp.
He hums, appreciating the touch. “What’d I say, baby?”
“You asked me what I’d do when the year is over.” I swallow the tiny lump in my throat, feeling it travel down my esophagus and lodge in my chest.
He shifts his head, so he can look up at me. “Poor word choice? You know I’m not known for making smart ones.”
“Bolan.” I cup his face. “You are smart. You’re beautiful and kind.”
He scrunches up his face. “Isn’t that from a movie? ”
“It’s the truth, but it still hurt me that you asked.”
His brows lift. “That I want to know what you want to do in the future?”
“That you asked what I want to do in a year. When our contract ends.”
Those brows press firmly together. His tone turns hard. “What contract?”
“Bolan.” I chuckle bitterly, knowing he knows.
“Fuck the contract, Ruthie. Fuck the entire arrangement. I told you I’m yours. You’re mine. We’re going to work this out. You and me. Tulane and more babies.”
He lowers his head and presses a kiss to my belly.
“Are you sure you weren’t just saying that about more babies? Maybe caught up in something?” Like amazing sex.
He lifts his head again, arching back to look up at me once more. “I wasn’t just saying anything. I wasn’t caught up in some moment.”
For some reason, those words strike deep as well, because I believe in moments. Those sacred sixty seconds. And I assess this one. The fact he came down the stairs. Sought me out after a misunderstanding. He’s wrapped around me like his mitt holds a precious baseball, treasuring me. He’s being expressive and open-minded, something he asked me to do when we made our arrangement.
Willingness to renegotiate terms at any given time.
The terms have already been renegotiated. I’m here because I want to be with him. With Tulane.
“This is what I want, Ruthie, but if you don’t want to have babies with me yet, there’s no rush. It doesn’t have to be today, or this month, or even in a year. No end date ,” he emphasizes. “I just want to make you happy. I always wanted siblings, and while I have Hunter and Miller, we don’t have that connection I see between others. I’m so much older than them and our lives were lived too differently. ”
The reminder of his mother’s transgression and the siblings he hardly mentions hurts my heart. As an only child, an unwanted child, I’d always dreamed about siblings as well and I want to foster the kind of relationship I’ve seen among siblings for Tulane.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, baby. I just meant that you can do whatever you want, be whomever you want. If you don’t want to stay home, what would you do? If you want to stay home, be a mom, and do something else later, that’s cool, too.” He presses a kiss to my chest then places his forehead to it but says something I can’t hear.
Cupping his cheeks, I lift his head. “What did you say?”
He licks his lips and stares up at me, those green eyes full of vulnerability. “I just want to do whatever will make you stay. With us. With me.”
The truth hits. He isn’t forcing me out in a year. He isn’t even suggesting I leave. Ever .
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, leaning down and giving him a quick kiss. When I pull back, Bolan lowers his head to my chest again. With his arms around my middle, he squeezes me once more.
“But you left our bed, to read down here.” He snorts, catching onto my excuse to leave our room. “So I’m here to snuggle into you while you read . And when you’re ready to head back to bed, we’ll go up. Together.”
I could be upset that he’s not allowing me the space to be upset about his poor word choice, but I’m also tickled at how he’s willing to let me be upset, a.k.a. read , if I need to be, but he isn’t leaving me alone to stew. He’s letting me know by his actions that he’s here for me. He’s literally wrapped all around me, settled in to let me do my thing, but letting me know he’s right here beside me for whatever I decide to do.
“I’m still a green, Ruthie.” He’s still safe .
That’s why I’m here. That’s why I made the decisions I made.
And I realize questioning my love for this man is too late.
I’m already in love with him.