Anna’s shoulders hunch forward. She shakes her head, her entire posture and demeanor saying she’s ashamed of herself for feeling this way. “I’m sorry.”
I move in close to her again, my hands going to her shoulders. Leaning in, I place a kiss to the back of her head. “This is a lot to take in. You’re asking me to give up something I have a passion for. Asking me to change who I am.”
Anna turns, dislodging my hands from her shoulders. Her head tips back as she looks at me with beautifully solemn but resolved eyes. “I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m just saying I don’t think I can be with someone who does this type of work. And I want you to be happy, to be able to pursue your passion always.”
A strangling sensation overwhelms me as if I can’t breathe. It’s one thing for her to say, “I don’t want you to go,” and then perhaps we can talk this through some more.
But for her to say she doesn’t think she can be with someone who does this type of work is a whole other type of resolution.
Before I can reply, she adds, “I lost a husband to this job, and it devastated me. And now I’ve fallen for you, and the risk is very real and near again. I just need you to know… my heart can’t take another loss like that. I can’t go through it again. And I see how you are with Avery, and I know where this is going between you and me. We’re creating a family, and I certainly don’t want to let her lose another dad.”
Fuck do those words hurt. Because she’s right. Anna and I are moving right toward creating a new family together, and Avery will be mine.
I could ask for clarification on exactly what she means. Hope I can nitpick her feelings and argue with her in what I know would be a futile attempt to bring her around. I could demand she be braver for me, but what a fucking douche thing that would be, giving she lost her husband to this type of work already.
In the end, I can’t think of one thing I could possibly say to bring her around to giving me—giving us—a chance this way.
“I have to think about this,” I finally say.
She nods with a grateful smile. “I actually appreciate that, Malik. I mean… I don’t want to put any pressure on you. I want you to be happy, but I want me to be happy too. It’s just… despite how perfectly we’ve come together, I think we have one imperfection between us that is our doom.”
Fuck, I hate her saying that.
Hate the fucking truth of it.
And I also love her for being honest about it. If I ever wanted proof of why we are perfect together, it’s because of the transparency we’ve always had between us.
Still… it doesn’t mean we’re supposed to be together.CHAPTER 26AnnaI bustle around my small kitchen, cleaning counters that don’t need cleaned and re-washing breastmilk bottles for the third time. My mom sits at the small kitchen table, a sleeping Avery cradled in her arms. I don’t bother suggesting she go put her down in her crib as my mom would simply glare at me for such a ridiculous thought. In other words, grammys should have and will take unfettered access to cuddle their grandchildren at all times.
It’s a bit atypical my mom is here at my apartment tonight, but because I’d confided in her this morning when I dropped Avery off that there’s trouble in paradise between Malik and me, she just invited herself over this evening. Even offered to bring Avery to me after work rather than me swinging by her house, which is the normal routine.
I didn’t argue because, first, she saved me over half-an-hour commute time, and two… well, I just needed someone to talk to.
Except I haven’t said a word yet, instead occupying my time and keeping my thoughts to myself rather than share them with my mother. Because if I speak them aloud, there’s a chance she’ll tell me I’m being stupid with my fears, then there’s a chance I’ll have to actually confront them.
And well… I’m terrified to actually face the things that scare me about Malik and the dangers in his job. By confronting them, I might just have to conclude I’ll need to be a bit braver to have him, and that’s something I’m just not sure I want to do.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on yet?” my mother finally asks. I knew there’d come a point where she’d force me to do something.
Now the ball is in my court. I can tell her everything is fine, which she’ll know is a lie because I told her that all was not well and I’m acting like a basket case, or I can fess up with my feelings and open the door to her advice.