Well, I’d have to stop taking the pill first. That would help.
And then I come back to the hotel and discover he doesn’t want one. Clearly. He looked ready to run at the first mention of a baby, which is his usual mode of operation. When the going gets tough, the Drew gets running. He loves to escape his problems. I’m the one who always makes him face them head on.
But look: I just did the same exact thing. Rather than continue our discussion, I walked out on him. Locked myself up in this bathroom so I could hide from him, fill the giant sunken tub with hot steaming water, and soak all my troubles away.
It hasn’t really helped, though. I’m still mad. More than that, I’m hurt. Hurt that he doesn’t want to even talk about trying for a baby. I’m not asking that we have one tomorrow. It usually takes a few tries before a woman gets pregnant. More than a few tries, even. We still have time. I just want a chance.
I want a baby. Drew’s baby. I want a sweet boy who looks just like his daddy. Or I want a pretty little girl who’s spoiled rotten. Actually, I want both—not as twins, but I want children, at least three kids, maybe four. I want to create a loving family with parents who still adore each other and healthy, smart kids. I want the picture-perfect little family, and I think Drew and I could totally accomplish it.
If he could just get his head out of his ass and stop panicking every single time I suggest something new and life-changing, then maybe we could move forward.
Muttering a few choice words beneath my breath, I reach for my phone sitting on the tiled edge of the tub to check the time. I’ve been in here for at least thirty minutes, avoiding Drew and soaking in the hot water.
Look at that. I have a message. From Drew.
Fable is …
Freaking
Absolutely
Beautiful
Loving and my
Everything
Talk to me.
No apology, but a poem. And I will not fall for his sweet, little silly poems—freaking absolutely beautiful? The guy is reaching and sorely out of practice. But I will not give in. I will not. I will not. I will not.
Despite my so-called steely resolve, I feel my heart melting. And it’s not from the steamy bathwater, either.
Sitting up more fully, I lean over the edge of the tub and start typing.
I’m mad at you. I don’t really want to talk to you.
I hit send. There. It felt good to be honest with him. If we can’t face each other and talk about this, then let’s go ahead and send text messages to each other like we’re teens. Whatever.
Thinking about babies scares me. I probably reacted wrong.
Ha. Understatement of the year. Yeah, he reacted wrong.
You definitely did. Didn’t you ever think we’d have a family someday?
Yeah, but in the far-off future. Not now. How can I take care of a baby?
I let out an irritated breath.
It’s not just you taking care of the baby, Drew. It’s the two of us. We do everything together. We’re a team.
I wait a while but he doesn’t text back, irritating me all over again. I mean, what the hell? Why does he panic so much? Yeah, this is scary, thinking about something as life-changing as this, but no one’s ever really ready for a baby. It usually just happens.
After fifteen minutes I’m still waiting and my skin is starting to prune up. It’s hot in the bathroom and I’m literally sweating. I want out, but I’m not ready to face him yet. Things are still left unresolved and I hate it.
My cell pings again and I grab it to read his message.
You’re thinking about babies and I thought maybe we should try and renew our vows.
I frown. Really?
Are you serious? We’ve only been married for a year.
But you didn’t get a real wedding.
I roll my eyes. He’s crazy.
I so did. We were married on a beach at sunset. On Maui. How much better does it get? I don’t want another wedding ceremony. I don’t need it. I already have you. I just want you. I love you. I don’t need a fancy wedding to prove that. I don’t even understand why you think I would need it.
Tears are sliding down my cheeks and I don’t know why. I wipe them away, frustrated at my reaction. We’re going round and round in circles. This fight makes no sense.
I’m sorry.
That’s it. Just an apology. No explanation, nothing else said. I’m not exactly sure what he’s apologizing for. Everything?
So I send him a message he’ll have to react to. It’s a promise, a vow we made to each other. The bathroom door is unlocked. I never locked him out; I’m not that cold, and he’s respectful enough of my boundaries that he doesn’t barge in unless I ask him to.
Right now, I’m asking him to.
Chapter Seven
Drew
The word marshmallow flashes on my phone’s screen and that’s it. The cue I need to go into that bathroom and talk to Fable. Tell her I’m being a selfish jackass. Promise her whatever she wants.
I’m not afraid of losing her, not over something like this. But I don’t want her angry at me. I don’t want her thinking I’m against having children. I want them.
Now? I don’t know. There’s so much for us to do and see still. We’ve only just begun, Fable and I.
I push off the bed and stride toward the bathroom, throwing open the door to find her neck deep in water in the sunken bathtub. Her hair is piled on top of her head, strands floating around her face, some of them damp and clinging to her cheeks. Her skin is flushed, her lips turned down. She looks disappointed in me.
Fuck. I hate that.
“You came.” She sounds surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I leave the door open and go to her, stopping so I can stand over her. “You know I always will.”
She sighs and drops her head, staring down at the swirling water. It’s a whirlpool tub, large enough that I could probably fit in there with her, but I’m not going to push my luck.
Yet.
“I’m being selfish,” she finally says, her voice low.
“I’m the one who’s being selfish,” I say and she glances up at me, her quick movement causing the water to ripple, allowing me a quick glimpse of her pink ni**les.
Just like that, my body reacts.
Focus, Callahan.
“All I’ve done in this relationship is take. It’s your turn to have something, Fable.” I inhale deeply, hoping I say the right thing and don’t piss her off further. “I want to have children with you but I want to wait a while, you know? Can we compromise? Maybe start trying after a year? When I have another season under my belt?”