CHAPTER 42 Miller Banks
The Story of My Life
Fuck. Fuck! Why do things always have to go wrong just when they’re getting good?
It’s the goddamn story of my life.
A happy family life? Great, let’s tell the kids about their real dad when they’re nearly thirty.
Playing for your own hometown pro football team? Awesome, let’s set up a trade initiated by the twin brother who wants to get out of town even though I really didn’t want to leave.
Finally sleeping with the woman you’ve been in love with since you were fourteen? Cool, let’s break that condom and see how things blow the fuck up.
I blow out a shaky breath as I stare at myself a little nervously in the mirror. So the condom broke. It probably means nothing. The risk is minimal.
But it’s still a risk.
Why didn’t I just switch to a different condom when we got back to the room? I know better. It was a dumb move, but it was fine before, so I didn’t think twice about it.
What a disaster .
I think through our options, but it’s her body and her call. I don’t even know if we could get something like Plan B on this ship, and I doubt she packed some just in case.
I blow out a breath and exit the bathroom to give her a turn, and she’s still lying on the bed as if she hasn’t moved in the two minutes I took in there.
Maybe she’s asleep.
Maybe she doesn’t realize what happened.
I’m not sure I’ll sleep again until I know we didn’t just do something totally irreversible.
Fuck.
When she finally stands to use the bathroom, her eyes are averted to the floor rather than looking at me. My chest feels like it might collapse in on itself.
I sit on the bed and try to draw in deep breaths to help with the pain in my chest, but it’s not moving. It’s like a rock is stuck in there, and I’m helpless to do anything to make it go away.
I’m trying not to freak the fuck out, but it’s futile.
I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted kids, but I’ve always wanted Sophie. What do we do if I just put a baby in her without even realizing it?
We talked a little about kids and the future. She knows where I am on it. Learning that my parents lied to us for our entire lives really kind of fucked me up, but it was one of those things I could easily tuck away.
Now, though, faced with the potential of what just happened…I can’t really tuck that away.
A baby turns into a kid, and a kid turns into a lifelong responsibility. Some people want that. Some aren’t sure. Some don’t. I’m thirty, and I have no idea where I fall on that spectrum.
She emerges from the bathroom, and she still isn’t looking at me .
“Is there anything I can do?” It’s my polite way of asking her if she wants me to head down to the shops and see if I can find some Plan B or whatever.
She lifts a shoulder. “We should be fine, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to see if we can find some emergency contraception. Do you know much about it?”
I shake my head. “Never had to use it.”
“Neither have I. I don’t know how I feel about it.”
I grab my phone and pull up a website that explains what it does. “Sounds like it prevents ovulation and makes it harder for sperm to reach the egg. It’s best to take it within seventy-two hours.” I glance at the clock. It feels like a timer has started.
“Should we see if they have any at the souvenir shops?” she asks.
“Sure.” We both put our clothes back on, and we take a slow walk toward the shops.
Things feel suddenly awkward between us.
I’ve never felt awkward with Sophie before, but we’ve also never been here before. This is uncharted for us, and truthfully, I don’t like it.
I’m torn. I’m not sure I want her to take this thing.
But I also don’t know if I want kids.
I want to be responsible for whatever we just did. But a child isn’t like a dog. You can’t just drop it off at boarding when you go on a weeklong cruise. I’ve been watching Lincoln and Jolene at dinner with their brood of three. I’ve caught Asher and Desi with Jacob.
They’re parents now. They were celebrating a night away from kids tonight with a trip to the casino with each other.
They’re exhausted all the time. They can barely fit in time for anything that isn’t their kids when they’re not at work. Is that the life I want ?
What happens to us if there’s a kid in the mix? We’ve barely had time to be together. Even if I did decide to eventually have kids, it would be far down the line. Not today—or nine months from today.
We arrive at the shop, and my chest tightens as she finds the pharmacy section. Ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and an assortment of seasickness medications.
Tampons. Condoms. Lube.
She flicks an empty bracket and reads the tag. “Plan B. All out.”
“Let’s ask at the desk,” I suggest, and we head up to the clerk. There’s a line, naturally. We wait patiently…sort of. She’s got her arms folded over her chest. I’m tapping my foot impatiently.
This isn’t us.
I hate this.
It feels like there’s already this big thing between us.
How much worse would that be with a baby in the picture? There’d be an actual thing between us.
We finally make our way to the front of the line. “Are all of your products on the shelves?” I ask.
“What are you looking for, sir?”
I lean in and whisper, “Plan B.”
“Ah, yes. We’re sold out. Sorry. It’s best to bring it with you if you think you may need it. You can try at the next port.”
I clear my throat, that rock in my chest growing a little bigger. “Thanks.”
We bolt from the store.
Tomorrow is a day at sea. That puts us at nearly forty-eight hours before we can get our hands on anything, and Cassie planned another group excursion, so I’m not even sure we’ll be able to break away to shop.
Then we have another day at sea, and by the time we’re back in the US, we’ll be past the seventy-two-hour mark.
Right. So we’ll just wait this one out and see where we land in the next few weeks.
As if that won’t be the longest few weeks of my life. Of both of our lives.
She blows out a breath as we stroll aimlessly along the deck with all the shops, both of us quiet. It feels like we’ve been hit with something I’m not sure we can recover from, and the thought pulses a fear in the pit of my stomach. We can’t let this come between us. We have to pull together.
I glance at the window beside me. They have a sequined jacket for women in twelve different sizes in the window, but no fucking Plan B on this boat.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says quietly. “If they’re out of it…I guess it wasn’t meant for me to take.”
I nod as I try to be supportive. “I’m sorry. I should’ve changed to a new condom. It’s my fault.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t blame yourself, okay? It’s fine. We’re fine.”
I just wish she was as convincing as she thinks she’s being.
We eventually end up back in our stateroom. We both stare at the bed for a moment as if it’s the bed’s fault.
It’s not. It’s my fault for not changing the condom.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” I say, and she nods. I should invite her in, but it feels like that would only lead one place, and I’m a little too freaked out at the moment to consider more sex.
And a little too spent. She is, too. She must be exhausted.
I do my best thinking in the shower, and I need a minute to just think right now.
“Okay. Can I just wash my face real quick?” she asks .
I nod, and she gets ready for bed first. By the time I emerge from the shower, she’s asleep. I didn’t have any big revelations while I was in there. Now I guess we just play the waiting game.
I slip into bed beside her. She doesn’t move. She’s facing away from me, where I soon learn she’ll spend the night.
We’re closing in on training camp. Sophie has work to do, too, with a book release coming up. As fun as this vacation has been, we’re careening toward reality, and this is a wake-up call that neither one of us was expecting.
It feels like the condom is suddenly a symbol of everything that was hanging in the balance for us, and when it broke, so did whatever we were starting. It’s early to call that, I know.
But she’s facing away from me, and I’m nervous, and as much as I want to turn in and figure out how we can get through these next few weeks together, I’m not quite sure how to do that when we both have other obligations and feelings and fears that are driving us away from each other.
The answer should be simple.
Eventually the season would start, and we’d be apart simply because of my career. By then, we should’ve been more certain about what this is, and that certainty would’ve been enough to help us get through it.
We don’t have that certainty. Instead, we just have more fears piled on top of fears, and I’m starting to do what I always do.
I’ve always been the quieter twin. I’ve only opened up to a few people in my life—Sophie being one of them, of course. She knows the real me, the one who doesn’t always hide behind silence.
Yet here we are, silence spanning between us and causing a chasm that feels like it’s widening by the very second.