Chapter 23 #2
Either the noise of my stomach rumbling or some sixth sense had him glancing over his shoulder to where I hovered in the doorway. He’d just taken a large bite of food and motioned with his hand for me to enter. I dropped my bag at the entrance to his room and shut the door.
I was nervous.
Why am I nervous?
Nico wiped his mouth with a napkin and crossed to where I hovered.
“Are you already finished?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to go tuck her in.”
“I already did. If you go in there you’ll just wake her up.”
Nico nodded somewhat reluctantly, his eyes dropped to the floor. I studied his eyebrows and noticed that his forehead was wrinkled in consternation. A question meandered into my brain, and before I could examine it for merit, I asked it.
“Are you planning on adopting Angelica?”
Nico’s gaze flickered to mine, his expression unreadable. He didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he reached for my hand and held it in both of his, and he traced my fingertips.
Finally, he said, “I’ve thought about it. I want to.” His gaze moved from my hand to my eyes. “But she can’t live in a city like New York because of air quality. In Iowa she’s got the whole family, her cousins, and I visit whenever I can. Also, I can’t take her from my mom. She needs a mother.”
At his last sentence, my insides—specifically in the area of my ovaries—fluttered a bit. The sensation took me completely by surprise; therefore, when his assessing gaze moved over my features, I’m sure I looked a little thunderstruck.
After a long moment, he sighed. “Let’s go eat.”
I was tugged toward the bed buffet. He’d already made me a plate, set out silverware, and poured a bottle of red wine. I sat across from him, careful not to jostle the bed too much.
“This looks really good.” My stomach rumbled again, and I gave in to the startling hunger by stuffing grapes and cheese into my mouth.
I was only peripherally aware that he was watching me instead of eating. After a drawn-out moment, he said, “Do you want kids?”
My fork paused just in front of my mouth, and I blinked at him. “I…I uh….”
He was watching me intently, his face and gaze focused. I noted that his chest wasn’t moving. He was sitting remarkably still as though he were holding his breath.
Do I want kids?
I placed my fork on the plate then reached for the wine and took a big gulp.
Do I want kids?
The answer was no. I didn’t want kids. They were time-consuming and emotion consuming and sticky and required constant maintenance.
They were little disease vectors, coughing and picking their nose and wiping it everywhere.
They were houseguests that stayed for eighteen years and broke your stuff and put peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in your shoes.
They talked too much, and needed too much, and expected too much.
Kids, as a concept, held no allure for me.
Also not helping matters was the fact that I’d spent the last ten years reminding myself of how awful it would be to have kids. I reminded myself frequently because I didn’t think a white picket fence was in my future, even if I did want them.
Plus, there’s the whole falling in hopeless love with your kids thing; and that kind of love scared the poo out of me.
I realized the answer was more complicated than a yes or no.
The answer was more like I decided a long time ago that since I’ll likely never meet the Mr. Dad to my Dr. Mom, and the since idea of having no control over the intensity of my love for a child doesn’t really sit well, I don’t want kids. Lucky me.
I cleared my throat, prepared to speak, but then chickened out and took another gulp of wine.
A small, knowing smile gently curved over Nico’s features, and he released the breath he’d been holding. “You don’t want kids.”
I swallowed the last of the wine.
His smile turned sad. “Why not?”
“Because….” I couldn’t look at him. “It’s a bit complicated.”
“Explain.”
“Ok.” I moved a piece of apple around the plate with my fork.
“I decided a long time ago that I was never going to have children. Once I made the decision, coming up with reasons against having kids became very easy.” My eyes flickered to his then back to my plate.
“I’ve been in school for a really long time.
The thought of not being in school is…hard to think about. ”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that my residency ends in August, and it will be the first time since I was five that I won’t be in academia. It means I’ve never thought about answers to these grown-up issues without the assumption that I was going to be alone.”
I set my jaw and resolved to meet his gaze. He was studying me through narrowed eyes as though truly considering my words, trying to understand. “You don’t want kids because you assumed you were always going to be alone?”
I nodded. “Something like that. And, also, they’re a pain in the ass.”
He grinned. “What about Angelica? Is she a pain in the ass?”
I answered without thinking. “No! She’s adorable and smart.
She’s also a funny kid. When we were making ravioli, she kept putting them on her nose and barking, like she was a dog.
Did I tell you she used my shirt as a napkin?
” I smiled at the memory. “I think she inherited some of the Mang-nan-genello funny.”
He shook his head. “Are you ever going to learn how to say my last name?”
“Nope.” I took another bite of the fruit.
Nico sighed. “If your kids were like Angelica would you want kids?”
I nodded automatically, again not really thinking through all the ramifications of my response. “Hell yes.”
“Hmm….” He leaned back and peered at me, as though assessing a possibility. “Let me ask you this question a different way, but understand that this is purely hypothetical; there is no double meaning here. I’m not proposing anything, ok?”
“Ok.”
“If the children were yours and mine, if we had children together, would you want kids?”
My eyebrows lifted, then lowered, then lifted again; finally, they settled into a deep, knotted V between my eyes.
Kids with Nico would be so….
My gaze instinctively swept over him. I thought about how funny they would be, how sweet, smart, and kind. They might have his eyes and eye twinkle me into submission. I thought about taking little girls to baseball games and little boys to music lessons.
My heart was behaving erratically. It hurt, then it felt warm, then it twisted, then it felt full.
Do I want to have children with Nico?
For some inexplicable reason, adding Nico into the equation changed everything.
Our children….
“I don’t know.” I answered honestly, and sounded as confused as I felt.
This time his smile was huge and split his face. “Ok. Good. No need to decide now.”
I frowned at him, lightly huffed. “I’m not dec—”
He waved my words away as though anxious to change the subject. “I talked to Dan today.”
“Dan?” I was still caught in a web of confusion, my brain not quite ready to switch topics.
“Your usual guard? Stocky guy with neck tattoos? From Boston?”
“Ah. Yes. He’s nice.”
“Yeah, well, he said there haven’t been any further sightings of Menayda.”
“Menayda?”
“The woman you refer to as ‘Fancy Stalker.’”
“Oh. No. Last time I saw her was Monday. I told you about that.”
“I also had a discussion with Detective Long about pursuing a restraining order. I think you should file for one.” Nico stacked our plates and moved them to his dresser, effectively clearing the bed.
I nodded absentmindedly, staring unseeingly at his comforter. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Elizabeth?”
I met his gaze. He stood hovering over me at the edge of the bed. He was watching me, his eyes sober.
“Yes?”
“I’m asking you to get a restraining order.” His voice and eyes were steel.
I shrugged. “Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Yes. Ok. I’ll call Detective Long tomorrow.”
“Good.” He frowned then murmured, “That was easy.”
“Hey! You make me sound like I’m difficult! I’m not difficult. I’m just always right.”
“Not always.” His grin was teasing as he reached for the hem of my shirt.
I couldn’t help but say, “Mostly always.”
That night, Nico and I slept together as he held me in his arms.
Let me repeat that: Nico and I slept together as he held me in his arms.
In some ways, it felt familiar, like coming home. In other ways, it was frightening and risky. In still other ways, it was just difficult to comprehend.
He spooned me, my back against his chest, my head tucked under his chin. Just before I fell asleep, I thought I heard him whisper, “Finally.”
1 Translation: Stop being so bossy.