Chapter 21
Sasha
When Courtney asked if I was ready to get to know her, I thought it would be getting reacquainted thing with less clothes
and more touching. I didn’t expect her to break out her laptop so we could do some sort of relationship quiz. Vuitton rolled
over, stretching, and I stroked his soft belly in response as I tried my best to listen to everything my wife was saying.
“And you got this from Dijah? She just had this layin’ around?”
Courtney shrugged. “Yeah, from when she and Shae were working out their issues. I know it’s a lot, believe me. Doc is type
A on steroids,” she said with a small chuckle. “But after reading over some of this stuff—we need to start somewhere, Sash.”
She shot her attention to me when she said the last part. I nodded even though it was still the strangest thing I’d ever heard
of. But I’d been so scared she would leave me, so if this was what she’d come up with to stay, I’d go with it. Especially
with how I thought I’d fucked up earlier. How quickly I slipped into making everything about me when my wife was trying, truly
trying to do what I desperately wanted her to do, which was stay with me.
I took a sip of wine and tried to ignore the side-eye she gave me. “Okay, so, whatcha wanna tackle first?”
She looked at me, then dropped her gaze down to my glass. “Kids,” she answered with a heavy sigh.
The wine turned sour in my stomach. Yes, we were supposed to be talking and using calmer heads. Not fighting. But that could
quickly change. That was our history. I swirled the liquid around in my glass, hoping for some divine insight on how she’d
react when I told her the truth. It was for a good reason. She’d understand.
I gulped down the rest of my wine, then blew out a long breath. “Yeahhh, about that.”
“I know I got really pissed about you—”
“I didn’t really go,” I blurted out. “You and Daddy were gettin’ ready to get into it, and I didn’t want that. I want them
to know you and love you like I do, but they can be stubborn and you can be stubborn so I just needed to redirect.”
I waited for Courtney to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared, a range of emotions dancing across her face like
a flip book. In real time, I watched as she realized I’d let us have the argument that’d resulted in her leaving me again.
She closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths, an action she’d done countless times before, only this time felt different.
This time I noticed a level of exhaustion I’d either never paid attention to or had ignored.
Selfish. Immature. Impulsive.
“Why?”
Her question wasn’t spoken with a raised voice, or with any sort of anger at all. And I kinda wished it had been. That, I
knew how to deal with. That, I could defend myself and my actions against. But I couldn’t do anything with the pleading for
understanding woven deep in that one-syllable word. I sure as hell couldn’t tell her what I’d told Denise and Tanisha.
“I told you, to change the subject at dinner,” I answered, not looking up to meet her gaze.
“No, Sasha,” she snapped, then paused, taking another deep breath. “I mean later. In the car. At home. At any point. Why would
you not say something then?”
She was working to keep a lid on her anger and annoyance. It was new, witnessing my wife’s body language shift. To take the
focus off myself and actually take the time to pay attention was an eye-opening experience.
And I felt small.
How could I say I wanted her around when I kept doing bullshit that pushed her away? No wonder she had a hard time believing
me. I glanced down at my wedding rings. My heart raced. And my eyes burned again with the threat of new tears. Words failed
me. All I could do was shrug. She scrubbed her hands down her face and blew out a long breath.
“Do you still think I’m cute?”
At first she didn’t say anything and I feared my attempt to lighten the mood, deflect, backdoor apologize, something, hadn’t
worked, but then she glanced at me, smiled, and laughed a little. She blew out a long sigh. “You let us have a whole argument.”
“I did. I was mad at how you reacted. And the fact you would just shut down the conversation about kids so I just . . .”
“You just thought lying would force my hand?”
“Maybe!” I snapped out the word before I could think better of it.
I was thankful for the distraction that was Vuitton when he jumped up, shook, then trotted over to the back door. I unfolded
from the couch to let him out, taking a few moments to compose myself. When I glanced over my shoulder, Courtney was resting
her head on the back of the couch, massaging her temples.
“Sorry . . . old habits,” I said quietly, sinking back onto the couch, but at the opposite end.
She looked at me as she sat up. She started to speak, but stopped and just nodded instead. “All good. Consider my hand forced.”
Courtney closed her laptop and set it on the cushion next to her.
I examined my nails, clicking the tips together, doing my best to employ some of her breathing techniques so I didn’t go off
again. Why was it “forcing her hand” to discuss expanding our family?
“Let me ask you something,” she said, pulling my attention before I could let my thoughts spiral too much.
“What?”
“Do you really want kids? Like really want them?”
I leaned forward and picked up the wine bottle, dumping the remaining contents into my glass. I took a slow, long sip while
pondering her question, especially with the way she’d phrased it. Was she implying again that she didn’t think I’d be a good
mother? That I hadn’t thought through parenthood?
“I mean . . . yeah.”
She simply nodded again and scratched her forehead. Her reaction did nothing to help the worrying thoughts sprinting through
my mind.
“Don’t you?” I took a nervous drink while I waited for her answer.
She wiped her hands up and down her thighs a couple times. “Keeping it hundred? I—I don’t, I don’t think I do.”
A heavy silence settled between us. And I wasn’t really sure how to process her statement. It never dawned on me that having
kids wouldn’t be the next logical step in our relationship. The relationship we’d rushed into without much discussion. Just
vibes.
The PDF was starting to be a little less weird.
Was her avoiding the conversation all this time to keep from disappointing me? Courtney always said she worked so damn much to give me what I wanted, but . . . much like not giving me time, she didn’t want to give me kids?
“The thing is, aside from kids being a lot, and I do mean a lot of work, I’m gone. As you are well aware.”
“I am.”
Courtney shifted, sitting up and resting her arms on her legs. “I’m gone,” she stressed again. “And I’m sure you can understand
this, but being an absent parent is not my style.”
I swirled the wine in my glass, still trying to make sense of what she was saying. And trying to figure out exactly how I
felt about what I was hearing. I wasn’t exactly the little girl that played mommy. Dolls were never my first choice of toy.
But I liked kids, being around my baby cousins and such. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to spoil Jah’s little boy when I got
the chance. But I also liked knowing there was an end time.
Still, weren’t kids supposed to be next? And I’d have someone around who wouldn’t leave me. Plus, Courtney was right, she
wouldn’t want to be an absent parent, so she would be home. We’d be a family. A happy unit.
Jesus, were even my reasons for wanting a child selfish?
“Sasha?”
“Huh? Sorry. What did you say?”
“Baby, I know kids have been a topic that has come up and I know I’ve deflected.”
“And bought me a distraction,” I said with a slight laugh as low whining came from outside.
“Yeah, I did bring the little tyrant into the house.”
I got up to let him in. Vuitton ran in full force as if he’d been braving harsh conditions being outside for a short while.
I finished off the remaining wine and briefly debated opening another bottle, but decided against it and placed my empty glass on the island.
Courtney held her hand out to me as I approached the couch.
Considering the ups and downs of the conversation, the gesture gave me hope that I hadn’t fucked up too bad.
I slipped mine into hers and didn’t resist when she tugged me down next to her.
She lifted my palm to her mouth and kissed it softly. “Is this going to be a deal breaker? Because—” She paused and let out
a slow breath. “Because if it is . . .”
Her eyes were solemn as she left the sentence hanging and the implication settled like a boulder.
“If it is, there’s no point?” Did I truly want to lose the woman I knew and loved for a hypothetical person?
She nodded. “And this isn’t an ultimatum or anything. My purpose in this is to take care of you and do what I can to make
you happy. I know I’ve not been succeeding in that lately, but I truly do want a happy home for both of us.”
“I want the same.”
I glanced down at our intertwined fingers and tried to imagine what our life would be like if we did have kids. Things would
change, a lot. And I needed to really sit and examine if I wanted those changes.
“What we’re doin’ is supposed to be takin’ time and thinkin’ things through. I’m selfish, I know this about myself. I’m selfish
when it comes to you and wantin’ you around. Wantin’ your attention.”
“Okay, so what does that mean?”
I shrugged, not wanting to admit that one of the reasons I wanted us to have a child was in hopes she’d stay home. That was
a level of selfishness that would probably change the way she looked at me, and I couldn’t face that. “You’ve had more time
to think about all this stuff, the list. For me it’s more a pop quiz.”
“That’s fair.” She reached for her laptop, opening the lid again. “Let’s see if there is a lighter topic for now. And this isn’t me ending the conversation on kids, but giving you time. Okay?”
“Okay.” I held my hands out for her computer, which she handed over. “Man, Dijah put some serious thought into this. A timeline
on when we should have had sex?”