Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
KIERAN
Am I ready to be a father? The thought grips me every chance it gets—in the lulls during conversations, in the stillness before bed.
I’m a jumble of emotions: I’m afraid, I’m anxious, but I know if she takes a test and it turns out positive, I’m committed to raising that child with her.
If she decides to keep it, that is. I look into abortion clinics in the Philippines so Isabel won’t have to worry about researching her options, then discover there are none. It’s illegal here.
Fuck.
Okay, then I’ll fly her abroad if she wants to do it. That’s one option. The next: looking for the best doctor to guide her through her pregnancy, if she wants to keep the baby.
We should have really used protection. If she isn’t pregnant, then we’ll use them. If she is, then technically it makes no difference. We’re not at risk, having lost our virginities to each other, but—
Christ, I’m spiraling.
I can tell Isabel is frazzled under the calm facade she keeps up around the others. She’s kept her distance from me, and I get why. She knows as well as I do that if we were left alone together, we’d probably triple the risk of her being pregnant.
The rest of the trip, she sits curled on couches like a dozing cat, journal on her lap, scribbling. I try to peer over her shoulder when no one is looking, but she swats me away.
Our last night, though—our last night, something shifts.
We can’t keep our hands off of each other.
We sit side by side at dinner, though we don’t speak to each other.
When we gather around the coffee table, sitting on couches, the others passing a joint around, we pin our knees to each other’s. If anyone notices, nobody mentions it.
Good. I hope it brings her comfort, to know she’s not alone.
There’s another game of hide-and-seek. When I’m It, she’s the first one I look for.
I’m deeply disappointed when I find her crouched in a closet next to Cisco, who barely fits.
They whispered urgently back and forth over who found this hiding spot first. Eventually Isabel volunteers to be It, and when she finds everyone, the girls except Chiara wear irritated looks, as if Isabel had spoiled the fun by playing her part.
As the night wears on, I can tell Isabel is growing more and more frustrated.
She sits closer to me, openly engages in one-on-one conversations with me, and slaps my arm when she laughs.
I’m confused, but I can’t say I don’t like it.
She drinks the cocktails Bo mixes, one after the other, and I keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn’t slip anything in her drink.
He’s done it before, spiked Chiara and got her high because he thought it was funny.
He and Cisco had a big fight over it; Bo nearly wound up in jail.
Isabel’s behavior worries me. She’s not usually this reckless. Is it because of the pregnancy scare? Is she trying to kill our baby that may or may not exist?
Or did the girls have another spat? I wish she’d tell me so I could help her with whatever’s troubling her. And then I’m guilty because I can’t stay focused. Because God, she looks so beautiful, spinning under the moonlight, dancing to the music with a drink in her hand.
Whatever has been sizzling under the surface comes to a boil, overflows when late at night, after everyone else has gone to bed, Isabel is texting me, asking to meet by the lounge chairs at the beach.
When I get there, I find that she’s dragged one chair out to the side, far from the villas’ view.
The ocean roars in its push and pull, the world’s cradle singing its natural lullaby.
I smile at Isabel, dressed in a gauzy nightgown that—in the pale moonlight—offers a peek of her cotton panties under the fabric.
Just like the one in my dreams, but better.
Fuck.
She launches at me the moment I’m close enough.
We’ve had a lot to drink, Isabel more than anyone.
If it’s not the baby, then she’s trying to blur the edges, maybe, loosen herself up from the grip of everything that kept her tense.
I tell her I don’t want her to do anything she’ll regret, but she doesn’t care.
“I’m never going to regret you,” she murmurs, shoving me back against the chair. When she straddles me, I rear back so she can’t kiss me. Not yet.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are you just going to use me to fuck the stress away? I’d prefer both, in case you’re wondering.” I mean it as a joke, but judging by the look on her face, it doesn’t land well.
“Baby?” I prompt, touching her cheek.
“The girls are being cold to me again,” she murmurs.
Ah, fuck. I brush her hair from her face. I press kisses on her cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I can talk to them.”
“Don’t,” she says. “That’ll just make things worse. They’re going to wonder why—”
“I’ll tell them I just noticed the tension.”
“Don’t,” she says again. “It’s okay. Seriously. They just get in moods sometimes. It’ll be fine tomorrow.” I still want to intervene, but I respect her decision.
I rub her shoulders. Her breathing evens out.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “About everything else.”
“You mean the pregnancy scare?” There’s a hint of humor in her tone.
“I mean—yeah.”
She sighs. “I’m scared shitless, obviously. But—”
But?
“Money aside… If I really think about it—I guess it wouldn’t be so bad.” She goes quiet, then looks up at me. “I mean—assuming you’d raise it with me.”
“Are you kidding?” I scoff. “Of course I would. You would never have to lift a finger. I’ll take care of you. And our family.”
“Jesus. I thought you were going to say no.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The white picket fence was always in the cards for us.”
“Oh, yeah?” Isabel smirks and pokes my side. “How many kids are we having?”
“A whole army,” I joke. She tickles my side. I bark out a laugh and clamp my free hand over my mouth.
“God’s timing, right?” she says after some time. “Never too early, never too late. If nothing else, at least now I know I do want to be a mom. Maybe just not right now? I don’t know.”
I picture Isabel with a baby bump: napping on the couch, shopping for baby clothes, nesting in our future home. Maybe she’s right—maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
I could cry at the thought of her holding our little baby in her arms.
“Do you want to sleep here tonight?” she asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. “We can set our alarm for five before everyone else wakes up.”
I want to give her anything and everything she asks for, but still I ask, “Isn’t that risky?”
She shrugs. Things are obviously not okay.
“I just want to be with you tonight, Kieran,” she says.
How can I say no to that?
She rests her head on my shoulder. “I love you,” she whispers. “It feels nice to say it.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I love you more,” I tell her.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Go to sleep,” I say. “Or we’ll be arguing over this all night.”
She squeezes me tighter. Her breaths even out in no time.
* * *
Isabel’s got a mean hangover when we wake up. I want so badly to care for her without arousing suspicion, but I’m worried we’ve already pushed things as far as they can go. Instead, I throw her meaningful looks, piling my plate high with greasy breakfast food, inviting her to do the same.
She goes back to keeping her distance. She’s never without that journal of hers anymore.
What are you thinking, baby? Tell me everything.
We return to Manila today. After breakfast, I pack my things. When I carry it out of the villa, a bellhop races toward me to take it.
I find Isabel pacing on the beach where we slept. Contrary to her glum mood at breakfast, she grins when she sees me.
“What? What is it?” I ask.
“Guess who started her period today?”
Oh, thank fuck. As much as I love her, I don’t know if either of us can handle becoming parents right now. I want to enjoy being just us first.
“Congrats!” I exclaim, stepping forward to pull her into a kiss. She rears back, holding up a hand between us.
“In broad daylight?”
“Nobody’s looking,” I say. “They can’t even see us here.”
“Later.”
“But they’re still busy packing!”
“Kieran,” she chastises, but there’s a hint of laughter in her voice.
“Remind me: who was trying to sleep with who last night?”
“Kieran!” She laughs harder. I know it’s risky, but I pull her into me, peppering her face with kisses. She squeals, giggling as she tries to push me off.
“How are we feeling?” I ask when I finally release her. “Happy? Relieved?”
“Honestly? A little disappointed. But only a little. I was already picking names in my head.”
I gape at her.
“Just kidding.”
“I would have a baby with you, though,” I tell her.
“If you asked.” I was never really the type to dream of a domestic future; whenever I envisioned what my life would be like in ten years, it was always with my art and my career in the center of it all.
Now Isabel is the core. She’s the sun my whole world revolves around, and I’m not sorry for it.
“Wow,” she says. “We truly are God’s children. Go forth and multiply.” She shoos me. I reach for her to kiss her again but she stops me.
“Okay, okay—I’m going to go first, and you count to a hundred and go after,” she says.
I shrug. “Hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go.”
She rolls her eyes and clamps her hands over her ass. “No looking!”
That just draws my attention to it even more.
* * *
On the plane, I catch Ravina glare at me more than once. At one point I furrow my brows at her, but she only rolls her eyes.
“What’s with Ravina today?” I ask the boys.
“What are you talking about?” asks Jaime.
I gesture toward Ravina, but she’s closed her eyes and resting her head on Natalia’s shoulder with their arms linked over the armrest. The boys look at me, confused, and go back to talking about football highlights.
I’m itching to get back to the studio, to get on with the rest of the collection and render Isabel in all her beauty on the canvas. When we disembark the plane, she and I are the last to get out, simply so we could brush hands on the aisle and share a secret smile.
The heat and humidity are unmatched in Metro Manila. I’m sweating buckets by the time we cross the short distance from the tarmac to where the van is parked. I’m grateful when I’m hit by the air conditioner on full blast; it must have been on for a while to have gotten this cool inside the car.
“Home sweet home,” Bo says as we slow to a stop in the driveway of the Aranaz mansion in Exeter Park. It still takes my breath away every time I see it. I knew Natalia was rich; I just didn’t realize how rich.
“I need a nap,” Natalia announces as Shirley greets us in the doorway. By the time we’re all inside, Shirley’s rushing the maids to get all our bags upstairs.
I stand next to Isabel and brush my knuckles against hers. It sends a shiver up my spine, and judging from the goosebumps that prickle her skin, I know it sends one up hers, too.
I can’t get enough of her. I wish the sun would go down, that everyone would pass out so we can go to my studio and touch each other in places no one else has, and no one else ever will.
I want to map every inch of her skin, to traverse it with my wanderlust-filled mouth and fingers.
I want to feel her walls clench around me, to hear her moans of pleasure, and know it’s all because of me.
“I’m gonna call my mom,” Isabel announces to no one in particular. “See how the clothes are coming along.”
It’s as if no one hears her. They all go their separate ways with nary a reaction.
“Do you want me to keep you company?” I ask. We’ve spent weeks together now; surely, it’s weirder if we don’t hang out at all.
Isabel hesitates, then nods. I follow her out to the garden, watch her pace as she speaks to her mother on the phone. I catch snippets. I’m okay. Yeah, it was beautiful. You’re nearly done? Oh, that’s great, Ma. Yeah, they’re really nice. I know. I know.
I’m disappointed that I missed her mum when she came over. I would’ve liked to introduce myself properly, gotten her blessing somehow. It’s fine, though; there’s still plenty of chances left before summer ends.
Right.
We’re nearing the end of the trip. I don’t want to leave.
Not yet. Maybe not ever. I know what people say: don’t make homes out of people if you don’t want to be disappointed.
But it isn’t that, exactly. It’s that every time I look in Isabel’s eyes, I see the world.
I see my past, present, and future. She must know that I belong to her. That I always have.
Watching her in that expansive garden, her white dress contrasting sharply against the greenery, I decide I’m going to fix this. The season may end, but our love doesn’t have to.