Hey, asshole, you’re also an idiot, you know that?
“Baby…” I groaned, but it was futile. I wasn’t going to stop her, even if the reality of what was going to happen afterwards was going to destroy me.
“Dean,” she moaned. “Come.”
And I came.
I came inside her, twice at this point, without a condom.
She collapsed onto my chest after the act, nuzzling into my neck, my cock still inside her. I felt my warm cum dripping between us, sticking to my stomach, and felt the weight of my actions. It was a million times heavier than the woman on top of me.
“I came inside,” I whispered, to me more than to her.
Pressing her lips to my throat, she said, “I can’t have kids.”
And fell back asleep on top of me.
Fuck.
What makes you feel alive?
Love. When it is fierce and deprived. Raw and delicious. But it also reminds me that one day—soon—it will all end for me.
WE SPENT THE FLIGHT BACK home holding hands and making out.
Waking up next to him felt like a dream. The irony didn’t escape me, but then everything about our relationship was dunked in satire. Dean was so careless, sneaking into my room and fingering me while I slept, but I was quick to reciprocate. I remembered riding him, lazy and slow, my clit rubbing against his tight abs. I took what I needed, then dozed off back to sleep. I was so dog-tired—my legs were sore, my lungs needed a break from life, and my head was still pounding with the music and general noise—I was twirling on the line between unconsciousness and awareness of my surroundings.
On the plane, I told Dean about my conversation with Millie, casually skipping the part where he’d asked me to move in with him over text messages yesterday. Not that I didn’t want that. Because I did. But for now, I just wanted to enjoy him. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes I did with Darren. I wasn’t going to rush into commitments, and even though I knew that Darren and Dean were nothing alike (for one thing, my feelings for Dean drove me straight into the arms of insanity, and that bitch knows how to clutch you tight to her chest), this time, I wasn’t going to screw this up.
It wasn’t going to be beautiful. In fact, life with me was going to be ugly, and I wasn’t even sure he’d be up for staying the whole ride. Also, I still had to tell him about my condition. About my inability to have children. About the reality that was waiting for me—a reality that was only going to deteriorate—and what it entailed. The medications. The vests. The massages. The hefty bags I dragged everywhere. The inevitable disabilities as my systems would come crashing down one by one. Everything.
And Dean had secrets of his own. I knew that, too.
Who was waiting for him in Alabama, and who was the girl he spoke on the phone with the day he barged into my apartment to convince me to go to Todos Santos? There was no point poking at the subject. He had to come to me willingly and tell me everything, just like I had to muster up the courage to open the subject of my health and issues.
Right now, I didn’t want it to be complicated.
Right now, I wanted to live.
“Millie is pregnant, by the way.” I pressed my lips to his throat and sucked lightly as the same flight attendant, who served us on the way into San Diego a week ago, passed us by and shot me an odd look. Last time, we looked like we were about to kill each other. Now, I was three seconds away from joining the mile high club in front of a dozen or so sleepy first-class flyers.
Dean jerked his head and scanned my face. He looked slightly tortured by the news, and I frowned.
“God, Dean, don’t tell me you don’t like children,” I teased. He picked up my hand, pressing my knuckles to his lips. His expression was so tight, I thought the wrinkles between his eyebrows would split his face in two.
“How do you feel about it?” He ignored my statement. Wait, does he actually not like children? I had a feeling it was a sore spot for him as much as it was for me.
I looked down, smiling.
“I’m happier than anyone.” I munched on my lower lip. “I’m going to spend every penny I have on buying this baby all the toys in New York, and I’m going to learn how to knit.”
“Oh, fuck. Continue.” He snaked a hand between my thighs and leaned forward to nibble on my earlobe. “Tell me more about you knitting. Your dirty talk game is strong today.”
I swatted his chest, still in awe of the fact that I was sleeping with this gorgeous man. I always dated nice-looking men, but Dean was in a league of his own.