20. #youreadick
TWENTY
#YOUREADICK
Rose
I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.
From my seat in the back of Brass Tacks, I repeat the mantra I’ve been replaying in my mind as I watch Vance scan the room for me. As always, he looks sexy as hell in a sapphire blue, long-sleeve pocket tee, well-worn jeans, and laced boots.
I’m wedged between two ficus plants. But maybe I should’ve chosen the seat under the air vent because I’m sweating like a pig at a barbecue.
Vance sees me and smiles. Damn those sexy eye crinkles.
I pull my polo shirt away from my chest, trying to generate some air circulation. After leaving John’s office, I didn’t have time to go back home and change into something more me before meeting with Vance. I also didn’t trust myself not to cancel if I didn’t head straight here from campus.
Vance finds his way to me. “Rosie-girl.”
Ugh, he’s trying to kill me before I even start. “Vance.” Just as with my presentation, I keep my tone even and professional.
Vance frowns. I wonder if he notices I look more like a member of the LPGA than I do myself.
Palm extended, I gesture to the chair across from me. “Take a seat.”
He sits, his eyes never leaving mine.
I take a fortifying deep breath. “So?—”
“I’m sorry.” Vance reaches out, taking one of my hands in both of his, looking mildly panicked. “I didn’t mean to ghost you this past week. I just needed to do some thinking.”
“I see.” Not only is he derailing my pre-planned speech, but he just confirmed that he had indeed been ghosting me and not just giving me the space I asked for.
Whelp. That feels awesome.
“I should’ve responded to your texts.” His chin dips toward his chest. “That was a dick move on my part.”
His choice of words has my lips breaking into a small smile.
We sit like this for a beat, the hum and buzz of the café picking up as the lunch crowd filters in.
It’s nice sitting here, holding hands, occupying the same space. But it isn’t why I agreed to meet him today.
“Vance, I?—”
“I don’t want this to end when I fly up to the Space Station.” His words rush together, his hands tightening on mine.
It takes a second for my brain to register what he said. “You don’t?” Hope rears its fickle head.
“No, I don’t.” His eye crinkles deepen, and my heart quickens. “You and me, we’re good, right?” His thumb sweeps back and forth on the back of my hand.
Babump. Babump . Not only is my heart beating faster, but it’s also louder, hope making it want to burst from my chest. For the past three days I prepared myself for disappointment and awkwardness. I steeled myself for what I’d decided was inevitable—being left.
But maybe my worst-case scenario won’t happen. Maybe he won’t think my news is bad. Maybe he’ll have room for me and the baby in his future. Maybe he loves me too.
But it’s all the maybes that have me wary of showing just how hopeful I am.
“I think so.” My words are slow.
“From the start, we’ve understood each other.” Vance shifts forward in his seat. “And I hope you’d like to continue it.”
I fight to swallow back my emotions. I want to say yes. Hell yes. I want all the things to continue. The family holidays, the glitter projects, the late-night talks, and the cuddles. I want it all.
But it isn’t just me on the line anymore.
I need to be clear. I put my free hand over my stomach. We need to be clear.
Squeezing the hands still holding mine, I take a deep breath. “You want to keep being together?” I can’t help my growing smile.
“Yes.”
My heart is out of control, as is the smile on my face. “Like in a regular, serious relationship?”
His smile wavers. “Well, sort of.”
It’s like the air has been sucked from my lungs. I try to pull my hand back.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Vance’s hands tighten on mine. “I really do want to be together. But I think maybe, well, haven’t we blurred the lines lately?” He laughs, sounding stiff.
I’m frozen in my seat.
When I don’t say anything, he continues, “Thanksgiving was fun, but part of my thinking this week was that maybe Christmas isn’t such a good idea.”
I swallow.
“That day at NASA, I think you were right when you said friends with benefits don’t do holiday stuff.”
I could kick myself.
“Holidays aren’t casual.”
“Casual.” My voice is monotone, my brain slow to register his words.
“But even so, this past week not seeing you… I didn’t like it.” He does that awkward laugh again. “What I mean is I like you, and what we started, and I don’t want that to end.” He lifts my hand, kissing the back of it. “Let’s just continue to have fun without a timeline.”
“Fun.” My heart is still pounding, now in rhythm to the headache brewing at my temples. “Until when?”
He shrugs like the theoretical end of us isn’t a big deal. Like our parting is inevitable somewhere down the line. Like it won’t hurt him to leave. “I mean, it’s not like either one of us is looking to settle down, right?”
I feel like he’s testing me. But I can’t get a grasp on the onslaught of emotions rushing through my chest to figure out what he’s testing me on.
Sarah, one of the baristas, walks up to the table. “Here you go, Rose.” She puts the butterfly lemonade that I’d forgotten I’d ordered down between us, giving me an excuse to lean back and retract my hand from Vance’s.
“Thanks.” I can’t meet anyone’s eyes. Instead, I follow the stream of condensation running slowly down the made-from-one-hundred-percent-recyclable-materials cup.
“Anything I can get you?” Sarah asks Vance.
“Ah, no.” His eyes don’t leave me. “I’m good.”
There’s a pause, and Sarah must pick up on the awkwardness between Vance and me. “Uh, okay. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She backs up a step then fast-walks herself over to the counter.
I really want to follow her.
“Rose.” He tries reaching for my hand again, but I move it to my lap. “I thought you’d be happy about this.” He sounds confused.
My nostrils flare with a big inhalation as I try to manage all the hope dying in my heart. “So you just want to change the timeline of our arrangement. You don’t want anything… more ?” I try to firm up my voice, but I sound weak even to myself.
“Why would we?” The surprise in his voice stabs at me. “I mean, I know we might’ve crossed the line a few times, but you and I, we’re both not looking for more.” His eyes try to probe mine.
I glance away.
“You’re a Business Fellow and a West.” He says this like it’s the explanation I need, the answer to all my problems. His tone implies all the things I hate about being both a West and a Business Fellow. The expectations. The pressure. The assumptions. The things I know now don’t matter.
Things that I didn’t think mattered to him and our relationship.
“And I should mention that during this past week I also did some thinking about the pregnancy comment.”
My heart flutters. A wisp of hope rising from the ashes?
“It got me thinking.”
“About?” My voice cracks.
“How that would be such a worst-case scenario. For you and for me.”
“Really.” I reach out with shaking hands to grab my lemonade.
He nods, not noticing my distress. “I would hate myself if I did that to you.” For the first time since he sat down, Vance’s gaze leaves me, focusing on the ficus to my left.
He almost looks angry. But at me or at himself, I’m not sure.
“I never want kids. It’s something I decided when I was accepted into the astronaut program.”
“Never?” I can barely get the word out. I take a sip of my drink; the sweet liquid cools my throat but sits heavy in my stomach.
“Never.” He takes advantage of my shock and grabs my hand again. “But that’s what makes us an even better match, don’t you think?” He squeezes, probably to reassure me, but it only feels like a vise. “You’re too young to worry about all this stuff.”
The nausea churning in my gut has nothing to do with morning sickness.
Misinterpreting my silence, just as he’s misinterpreted a lot of things, Vance frowns. “And just to make sure this doesn’t become a worry again I’ve seen my doctor.”
My eyes snap to his. “What?”
The crinkles deepen, his expression self-satisfied. For once, his sexy laugh lines don’t make me swoon. Instead, I yearn to slap them off his face. “I scheduled a vasectomy for after the holidays. I even cleared the procedure with NASA to make sure it doesn’t mess with the upcoming flight plan.”
This… this isn’t right. Can’t be right.
Vance. Normally sweet and considerate Vance wouldn’t do this.
Not the guy who tickle-wrestled his nephews. Not the guy who held my hair back as I threw up. The guy who came by every night to make sure I was eating properly during exams without a thought to getting any of his sex benefits.
He wouldn’t go so far as clearing a vasectomy with NASA to ensure it wouldn’t derail his flight schedule but not mention it to me until now.
Right?
But as I continue to stare at him, to study his hopeful and unrepentant face, the truth of it all sinks in.
I concentrate on breathing in and out through my nose in an effort not to vomit all over him and his stupid eye crinkles.
I pull my hand back, jerking it out of his grasp.
Vance’s smile falls. “Rose?”
In and out. In and out.
“Absolutely not.” I tighten my hands into fists under the table. “No.”
“No?” Vance can’t hide his hurt. But what he’s feeling is nothing compared to the pain he’s carved in my chest, though I fight not to show it.
I’ve always been a fantastic emotional poker player.
I’ve had to be. All my life. When my father left. All the times my mother left. When my grandparents died. When my brothers shipped me off. When one by one, all my friends fell in love.
I nod once, short and fast. “I need more than that.” We need more than that.
“What do you mean more?” He leans back, frowning.
That small distance helps me breathe. Helps me find the courage. “I love you.”
Vance’s mouth drops open.
“And I want all those things you seem so sure I don’t want. Like a serious relationship, kids, and happily ever after.”
His ass slides back in the seat, as if trying to get as far away from me as possible. “We said… you said…”
I shrug, pretending his lack of reciprocation doesn’t hurt. “Things change.”
One of the hands that was holding mine so tightly just a moment ago rubs down his face. “I didn’t believe your brother when he said?—"
“ What did my brother say?” Anger, only one of many emotions swirling inside me, surfaces.
His eyes widen at my tone. “At dinner the other night, he mentioned how you go all out for the people you love.” He shifts in his seat, looking down. “And I”—his empty hands begin to fidget—“didn’t believe him. I mean, you said you weren’t looking for a boyfriend. So why would you?—”
“Love you?” I’m questioning it as well.
In the back of my mind, I recognize the truth of his words.
I did say I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.
And until this moment I never said differently.
But seeing him shell-shocked instead of elated over my confession hits me hard.
Subdues any grace I may have felt obliged to offer.
And any desire to tell him about being pregnant.
About the baby whose surprise existence has made me feel complete and resolved.
I close my eyes for a beat, letting my newfound sense of purpose settle over me. Give me strength for what I need to do next. “I’m ending this.”
“Ending it?” He looks younger and more insecure than I’ve ever seen him.
Too fucking bad.
I straighten in my seat, one more deep breath clearing the churning nausea. “Yes.” I grab my purse off the seat next to me, pulling the strap over my shoulder. “Now. No need to wait until your flight.”
It’s his turn to be verbally bitch-slapped into silence. But when I move to stand up, he rallies.
“I thought we were having fun.”
“Fun?” I snort, covering the hitch in my breathing. “Is that all I am?”
He shakes his head, as if trying to figure out how he mis-stepped. It seems I’m not the only one whose plans for today got derailed.
“No, it’s just I…” He pauses, unclear on what to say next.
Before I cry or puke, I stand. Looking down at him, I make sure to be very clear.
To him, and myself. “I’m a lot more than a good time, Vance.
And the fact that you don’t seem to think so only solidifies my decision to end this now.
” Deep breath. “You don’t deserve me.” I press my hand to my stomach. He doesn’t deserve us.
I have a hard time swallowing, my tears choking me, but I manage. “You know, people have been underestimating me my whole life. I usually find it amusing.” Another hard swallow. “Funny how I’m not laughing now.”
With that, I grab my lemonade and sidestep our table, bobbing and weaving through the small crowd, careful not to trip on any laptop cords, and leave.
Leave before he can leave me.
When I make it to the counter, and he hasn’t called after me, I regret not throwing my stupidly delicious butterfly lemonade over his head. But I’m going to be a mother. I should start acting more mature.
Hashtag fuck that.
Spinning on my heel, I dart back to the table, popping the top off my drink as I go. I find Vance frowning at one of the ficus trees, looking sad and confused.
Well, that makes both of us, buddy.
When he sees me, he smiles, hope lighting up his eyes. “Rose, I?—”
I overturn the cup, sticky blue liquid running in rivulets down his silky hair and over his eye crinkles. Dousing him like he did my hopes.
The café goes quiet. I drop the cup on the table and stalk away from him, promising myself to tip extra big the next time I come here.
I keep my head held high and refuse to make eye contact with anyone. Until I catch my own gaze in the glass doors as I exit. A mixture of determination, satisfaction, and loss stares back at me.
The tears start as soon as I step outside.
Hashtag motherfucking hormones.