Chapter 21 Nice doesn’t make the Bed shake #2
Christa blinks. “Thank you. Sorry about the cream.”
I clear my throat. “Sophia, do you want to… step outside for a minute?”
She hesitates, then nods. “Yes. That might be good.”
I grab my jacket out of habit, even though it’s unnecessary, and lead her into the hallway. The door clicks shut behind us, mercifully muting the faint hiss of the cream can from inside the flat.
We stand there for a second, neither of us quite sure where to put our hands. Adult silence. The kind where no one is performing.
“I didn’t mean to ambush you,” I say first. “That was… not the plan.”
“I figured,” she says. “I just wish I’d known earlier.”
“I know,” I reply. “And I honestly wasn’t trying to hide it. I just couldn’t work out when the right moment was. Date one felt like a hostage situation. Date two felt like emotional whiplash. By date three, I’d convinced myself I had at least another week.”
She lets out a short laugh. “Okay. I can see why opening with ‘Hi, I’m Geoff and I’m having a baby with my housemate’ might have been a lot.”
“Exactly,” I say, relieved. “I didn’t want to drop it like a grenade.”
She studies me for a moment. “Is that why you didn’t come home with me? Last time. And tonight.”
I wince. “Partly.”
“Partly,” she repeats.
I sigh. “There’s another layer.”
She folds her arms, waiting, but not impatiently. Curious rather than demanding. That helps.
“I’ve had some… issues,” I say carefully. “Performance-wise. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to make things unreliable.”
She frowns slightly, not unkind, just genuinely trying to understand. “What do you mean by performance?”
I take a breath. There’s no elegant way out of this and I’m done attempting it.
“My dick,” I say.
She blinks.
I plough on, because stopping now would be worse. “Sometimes it cooperates. Sometimes it very much does not. And it tends to pick the worst possible moments to go on strike. So I stopped pretending I could charm my way past it and decided to just deal with it.”
There’s a beat. Then another.
“Oh,” she says. Not shocked. Just recalibrating. “Okay.”
“I realise that’s not exactly light hallway chat,” I add. “But there it is.”
She studies me for a second, then nods slowly. “So the taking it slow thing…”
“Isn’t a tactic,” I say. “It’s survival. Less pressure. Less panic. More chance my body remembers we’re on the same team.”
She huffs out a quiet laugh. “That is… surprisingly sensible.”
“I know,” I say. “I’ve had professional help.”
She gives me a small smile. “Thank you for telling me. I can imagine that wasn’t easy.”
“It was not,” I agree. “I would rather confess to tax irregularities.”
She considers that, then asks, gently, “And the baby. And Christa. You’re… okay with all of that.”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Terrified. But okay. And I didn’t want to start anything with you unless I could be honest about the big stuff.”
She nods, thoughtful. “I appreciate that. Even if the timing was… dramatic.”
“Understatement of the year,” I say.
She lets out a small breath, shoulders easing. “I can understand why you wanted to check if there was something there,” she says. “I’ve been doing the same thing, if I’m honest.”
I blink. “You have.”
“Yes,” she says. “Because I like you. You’re kind. You listen. You don’t make me feel like I’m auditioning for anything.” She hesitates, then adds, “But I also have to admit there weren’t exactly sparks flying.”
That lands softer than I expect. More relief than sting.
“Then why invite me back?” I ask, genuinely curious now rather than defensive.
She gives a self-aware little grin. “Because sometimes sleeping together is where the spark turns up. Or at least that’s what I’ve told myself in the past.” She shrugs. “You came across as a genuinely nice man, Geoff. I thought maybe the chemistry would catch up if we gave it a nudge.”
I nod slowly. That makes an uncomfortable amount of sense.
“And now,” she continues, gentle but clear, “I think maybe it’s just not there.”
I wait for the disappointment to sink in. It doesn’t.
“We’re… nice,” she says. “We’re very nice together. But nice doesn’t make the bed shake.”
I huff out a laugh before I can stop myself. “No. It really doesn’t.”
She hesitates, then tips her head slightly. “Can I give you a bit of advice? Even though we don’t really know each other?”
I shrug. “At this point you could read me my horoscope and I’d listen.”
She smiles. “I might be wrong,” she says. “So feel free to ignore me completely.”
“Duly noted.”
“I just wonder,” she continues, choosing her words carefully, “whether now might not be the right time for you to be dating.”
That lands. Not sharply. More like something being set down on the table between us.
I don’t bristle. That’s how I know she’s onto something.
“Because of the baby,” I say.
“And everything around it,” she replies. “The living arrangements. The co-parenting. The fact that you’re clearly doing a lot of internal housekeeping.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“I don’t mean it as criticism,” she adds quickly. “You’re doing the work. It shows. But maybe this is a season for getting your feet under you, not auditioning potential partners. You seem to be very close with Christa and that is a lot to take for anyone at the beginning of a relationship.”
I nod slowly. I think about Christa in the kitchen. Pea-Lime kicking. My mum and her emotional Jenga tower. Pee-Pee and her irritatingly sensible questions.
“That’s… fair,” I say.
She smiles, relieved. “I don’t want to make you feel worse. It’s just some friendly advice.”
“Thanks for being so… understanding, I guess. What was I thinking bringing someone into this chaos?” I shake my head.
She laughs. “Well, at least you tried to make it work.”
There’s a beat of quiet, not awkward, just honest.
“For what it’s worth,” she adds, “I think you’re a good man. Just maybe… in a holding pattern.”
I nod. “That sounds about right.”
She steps back, giving me space. “I’m glad we matched.”
“Me too,” I say. And I really am.
She smiles once more, then turns and walks away, no drama, no sting. Just clarity.
I stand there for a moment longer than necessary, then head back inside, already knowing Pee-Pee is going to be unbearably pleased.