“Clearly,” I growl, my hand making its way into the back of her hair to tilt her head back so she can see deep into my eyes. “And you think that just because you might never be able to have a baby, you’re unworthy of love, of having a relationship so fulfilling a man wouldn’t even need anything besides you in his life?”
“That man doesn’t exist. It’s in men’s very nature to want to spread his seed. It’s basically their meaning of life, to put babies in bellies. I’m a psychologist. I know all too well the physiology of it all,” she says heatedly, but not as if she’s angry with me, just the hand she’s been dealt.
When I let the silence stretch between us, I can’t help but smile at the thoughts running through my mind. And when she sees the expression on my face, she narrows her eyes. “What? What could you possibly be smiling about right now?” She wiggles attempting to get away from me, but I just wrap my arms more tightly around her, not letting her go.
I pretend likes she’s not struggling in my hold and hissing at me like a pissed off cat. “Not long ago, maybe a month or two,” I begin, and she slowly settles back down, “I was hanging out with none other than your best friend’s husband. We had a network meeting, and we sat together for lunch. We made small-talk, of course, shooting the shit like we always do, but then he asked me about my love life, if I was ever going to settle down.”
She can’t help herself. She gives in when I don’t continue with my story. “And what did you say?” she prompts.
“I told him I wouldn’t be settling down anytime soon, because there was nothing holding me to one spot. My travels and cooking and TV show were all I needed to have a fulfilling life. I never really craved the traditional marriage and two-point-five children and white picket fence life. That all just seemed so… claustrophobic. Almost… like a trapped feeling, you know? Literally feeling shackled down—which I suppose is why that term is used when referring to getting married, huh?” I smile.
“So what you’re saying is you’re happy being a bachelor with no responsibilities,” she says with an accusing tone.
“Says the beauty in my lap who is one hundred percent the female version of me. Bachelorette pad, great job you love, not allowing yourself to get attached to anyone,” I point out.
She turns her head and gives me a side-eye. “Touché.”
“But as I said, that was a month or two ago. That was… before I met you. And somehow, in just one night, you’ve changed everything,” I murmur, imploring with my eyes for her to believe me. “No, I still don’t want the traditional two-point-five kids trapped behind a white picket fence. But you know what? Being shackled to a woman behind fancy wrought-iron gallery posts seems right up my alley.”
She stares into my eyes for a full minute, and I watch, fascinated as her tear ducts seem to drain the tears from her once swimming golden pools. And the next thing I know, I’m breathing in her grapey breath as her lips lock to mine and she gives me the most heart-wrenching kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Chapter 15
Erin
THE SIX-BLOCK walk back to my house passes in a blur, and not because of the drinks. We make several stops beneath random galleries to pause for kisses and sweet nothings, but the rest of the way is passed with hurried footsteps. When we reach the door, I can barely ring the hole with my key I’m so jittery with anticipation of what’s to come and because Curtis can’t seem to keep his hands off me. And when I finally do get the door unlocked, we’ve hardly made it inside before he slams it shut and my back is pressed against it.
The quietness of the room is deafening after the hustle and bustle we just came from. While Lafitte’s was muted and intimate, we had to pass back through party central in order to make it home.
Curtis is so close, so big he’s the only thing I can see, everything behind him disappearing at my height until I’m suddenly up, up against the door with my legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. Now that I can see over his shoulder, all I want to do is go up the staircases just feet away, lead him to my room, my haven. I’ve never allowed any other man into my room before. When my ex and I were together, we were waiting until marriage to actually live together, and while we were dating and engaged, I always stayed at his place. It felt wrong bringing him here when this wasn’t my house, disrespectful somehow. But with Curtis, it’s completely different. He feels like home just as much if not more than this building does, and I feel nothing but peace thinking about him joining me upstairs.