40 - Haley
40
Haley
Lucas stayed inside me, as hard as a brick column, for a lot longer than I expected. Especially after coming twice. It made me feel sexier, even more desirable, than I already did.
Then, with a final kiss of passion and love, our bodies untangled and we cleaned ourselves up. I was struck with a memory of us doing this as teenagers, always scrambling to fuck whenever we had a moment alone. Racing against an imaginary clock before our parents got home, or before someone saw us in the back of his car in the school parking lot.
It was so much nicer as adults, able to take our time.
When Lucas came back from the bathroom, I was sitting on the couch, still totally nude except for the plate of cheese fries protecting my modesty in my lap. He was wearing his tight boxer-briefs, the navy fabric practically popping off his chiseled thighs.
“Um, excuse me?” he said. “Who said you could have some of my fries?”
“I offered you half my burger at dinner!”
“Which was extremely kind of you.” Lucas sank into the cushion next to me. “I, however, was not planning on sharing.”
“There’s a lot of fries here, and I took the time to move them to a plate and reheat them while you were in the bathroom,” I said. “We’re splitting these, fifty-fifty.”
“Sixty-forty,” he countered, grabbing a fry. “I’m bigger than you, and therefore require more calories.”
“There’s a box of Girl Scout cookies in your pantry. Throw that in, and you’ve got a deal.”
“You’re still ruthless after sex, I see,” Lucas softly kissed my cheek.
“I’m just glad I didn’t have to point out that I paid for these fries,” I replied.
Lucas picked up another tangle of messy fries. “You would really pull that card on me? After all the orgasms I gave you?”
I nodded. “Sorry to impose on your independence . I know you hate that.”
Lucas’s lips curled into an evil smile, which was my only warning before he shoved the fries at my face, smearing chili all over my cheek and lips.
“What?” he asked. “I’m just helping you eat the fries you paid for.”
We play-fought for a few seconds, eventually reaching a truce before the plate could fall out of my lap.
“Can I say something?” Lucas asked.
“Only if it’s another compliment about how I look better now than I did when I was seventeen.”
He licked sauce from his lips and said in a lusty tone, “It’s not even close. You’ve aged like fine wine.” He tapped my face with his finger. “But what I was going to comment on is how easy this feels.”
“I was thinking that at dinner!” I agreed. “You’re so much more comfortable in your own skin.”
“You, too,” he said. “It’s easy being around each other when we’re not bubbling cauldrons of hormones.”
“Ugh, I used to get so angry at you back then,” I said.
He pulled my legs sideways across his lap and began massaging my calves. “To be fair, I gave you lots of reasons to be angry.”
“True, but I’m not even talking about the big stuff. Little things used to piss me off. Stupid stuff.”
“Like what?”
“The way you opened cans of soda one-handed.”
He blinked at me in confusion. “Seriously? How else are you supposed to do it?”
I mimicked the motion. “You’re supposed to hold the can with one hand, and then pull the tab with the other! You always did it with one hand, like you were trying to show off. Ohh, look at me, I can open a can of soda while driving. I’m so cool.”
Lucas stared at me.
“I told you it was stupid stuff,” I said. “I was such an angsty teen.”
“Hormones,” Lucas repeated. “I’m glad we’ve reconnected now that we’re older and wiser.”
“I don’t know about wiser, but at least I don’t feel like I’m always on the verge of crying.”
“God, we were so dramatic back then.” Lucas shoved another handful of fries into his mouth. “Do you remember how we broke up the first time?”
“Which time? The one where I caught you looking at Jennifer Coleman’s tits at lunch?”
“First of all, I only glanced at them,” Lucas argued. “She was sitting across from us, and she bent forward. I couldn’t help it.”
“I’m still mad about that,” I muttered.
“But no,” Lucas continued, “I’m talking about the time you said it was cheating to watch an episode of a show without you.”
I felt myself bristle. “It was the series finale of New Girl! You were supposed to wait for me!”
“And have it spoiled by the internet? Yeah, right. I stand by my decision.”
“I see you haven’t matured after all,” I said, sticking my nose in the air.
“Apparently not.”
I laughed and caressed his cheek, smearing a tiny speck of cheese. “Hey, can I say something?”
“Always,” he replied.
“I’m really glad you moved back to Vancouver.”
Lucas smiled, then looked away.
“Did I say something wrong?” I asked. It felt like the right moment to say something sentimental, to reveal a vulnerable slice of my heart.
“No, I’m really happy to hear you say that.” He stopped massaging my calves and slid my legs off his lap. “Hales, I have something I need to confess.”
My throat tightened. “Actually, so do I. Something I’ve been putting off.”
“Let me go first,” he insisted. “Mine is kind of a big confession.”
I doubt it’s as big as mine, I thought. But I nodded, urging him to speak. I didn’t mind putting this off for a few more minutes.
Lucas sat up a little straighter, collecting himself before he spoke. “Moving out of town was the best thing for me. It allowed me to get away from my father and to make a life of my own. I grew a lot as a person when I was in Detroit. I learned things about myself—what mattered to me, and what didn’t matter. And I kept coming back to one undeniable fact.”
He paused before meeting my gaze.
“I was lucky to have you, even if it only lasted a few months while we were teenagers,” he finally said. “I lied to you, Hales. I didn’t move back to Vancouver for the job at Nissan. I decided I wanted to move back, and then found a job.”
“Then why did you move back?” I asked, although I already knew what he was going to say. Or at least what I hoped he was going to say.
“I moved back for you.” The words poured out of his mouth, carried by the weight of seven years. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Hales. It took me too long to realize it, but once I did? I knew I had to come back and give this another chance. That’s why I texted you that night you first came over. I didn’t just want to hook up with you. I wanted to rekindle our entire relationship.”
He took my hand and cupped it between both of his palms.
“I’m not trying to put any pressure on you. I understand you’ll need some time to think about this. But I had to tell you the truth, because it wasn’t fair of me to keep it from you. And before you say anything: yes, I know that dating you isn’t just about you . You need someone who can be there for Bran, too. I can’t promise to be the best adult figure in the world. I’ll probably make a bunch of mistakes along the way. But I want to try.”
Lucas let out a long sigh, like he had finally shrugged off the crushing weight of that secret. He stared down at our hands, as if he was afraid to look into my eyes. Afraid of how I would react.
But I felt relieved, and overjoyed, at everything he had said. He truly was a man , now.
“Thank you for telling me,” I replied softly. “I appreciate your honesty. I’m not upset you hid it from me. In fact, I’m kind of glad you moved back for me. That kind of segues into what I wanted to tell you.”
“Yeah?” he asked hopefully. “What is it?”
The time had come to finally tell him the truth. It felt like I was on a roller coaster for the first time, waiting for the bar to come down and lock me into place. My heartbeat thumped in my ears, and I tasted copper in the back of my throat. I was terrified .
But everything he had just told me made this so much easier.
“I lied to you, too,” I began. “Bran isn’t four years old. He’s five. He’ll actually be six in September.”
Lucas furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. Why would you lie about that? I don’t care if he’s four, or if he’s…”
It seemed to happen in slow motion, his realization. Like lights coming on in a house, one room at a time.
Five years. Almost six.
September birthday, which meant a December conception.
The math clicked. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open.
The moment I had dreamed about, a moment I had even feared , dragged on for several long seconds. I never thought I would actually have the chance to tell Lucas the truth. Coming clean about Bran felt so good .
Until it didn’t.
“Bran is… my son?” he breathed.
I nodded.
Lucas blinked, then held his head in his hands. “How could you keep this from me all this time? How could you lie to me?”
Oh no .
“We hooked up in college,” I said. “By time I knew I was pregnant, you had moved to Detroit. There was no point in telling you.”
“Bull-fucking-shit!” he said, jumping to his feet. He began pacing across his living room, never looking at me. “I have a son. A son . And I didn’t know!”
“I made the decision to raise him on my own,” I insisted. “I didn’t want to put that pressure on you. I didn’t even want child support. I wanted to do it by myself.”
“I still deserved to know the truth, no matter what you decided,” he insisted. He hadn’t raised his voice at all, but somehow that made it even worse. “Does he know?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never told him anything.”
“Oh my God. You let me play with him…” His hands were fists in his hair as he paced. “You watched me read him a bedtime story. Was that all just some test?”
“No!”
“You made me prove I was a good parent figure before you’d let me know that I was his father?”
No, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to go this way!
“I’m so sorry, Lucas,” I said. My entire body ached with regret. “I should have told you sooner. But I never thought I would see you again! You were so adamant that you didn’t want kids back then, I thought it would only hurt if I told you. I didn’t want you to feel trapped, you know? Lucas, will you stop pacing and look at me?”
When he finally did turn his gaze on me, I wished he hadn’t. His eyes welled with moisture, full of a lifetime of pain.
“Leave,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Leave,” he repeated, pointing at the door. “I can’t look at you right now. You have to go. Why are you still sitting there, Haley? I. Need. You. To. Leave. ”
Only on the last word did he raise his voice, but it wasn’t anger. It was agony. It was pain.
Pain that I had caused.
By the time I had gotten dressed and left his apartment, I was sobbing.