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No girl wants to know going into a relationship that it’s going to be a struggle to conceive. So I wouldn’t blame her if she told me she wasn’t interested.
Hell, if I was a bigger man I’d tell her to get on with her life and forget about me. I should find myself a girl who doesn’t want kids or who can’t have them herself, and that way I wouldn’t have to worry about it.
But I don’t want Juliette because I want her to have my babies. I want Juliette because I want Juliette. How do you tell yourself to stop wanting something?
On the table, my phone buzzes, and a green banner announces the arrival of a text. I glance at it, and my heart leaps to see her name. Next to it is the picture I took of her one day at the office, saying I needed it for my contact list. She was wearing a blue sari, the rich color complementing her skin and making her glow. I see it every time she texts me, and it always makes me smile.
I smile now as I open the text, although my stomach does a strange flip at the sudden thought that maybe she’s messaging me to tell me she’s decided it’s over between us.
Juliette: Hey, how are you doing?
Me: Hey you. I’m okay. You?
Juliette: I’ve gone for a walk to pick up a couple of bits for Mum from the supermarket.
Me: Are you alone?
Juliette: Yes. Cam’s playing pool with Dad and Antony.
She’s told me a little about her family. Her Indian father, Krish, is the youngest son of five boys, and, after graduating as a doctor in New Delhi, he traveled to New Zealand and met and fell in love with her Maori mother, Marama. I’ve met Marama a few times, and she’s a lovely woman, very clever, and a teacher of philosophy at the University of Canterbury. She told Krish she’d marry him, but that she didn’t want her children brought up with any particular religion or culture, because she wanted them to be free to make up their own minds. It means that she’s encouraged both of her children to be free thinkers, which is one thing I love about Juliette.
Antony is her brother. I know he was named after a character from a Shakespeare play, just like Juliette was. I also know he’s gay, and that at least one of Cam’s brothers has made a derogatory comment about that. I’m sure she’s not looking forward to Christmas Day because his brothers are going to be there.
Me: Are you okay?
Juliette: Not really. I miss you.
My heart leaps.
Me: I miss you too. More than I would have thought possible.
Juliette: Can I call you?
Me: Of course!
I wait a second, and then press the button to answer as it begins to ring and hold it to my ear.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hey.” She sounds breathless, although whether that’s because she’s talking to me, or if it’s because she’s walking fast, I don’t know. I can hear traffic, which confirms she’s outside. “I’m sorry,” she continues, “I don’t have long. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“That’s okay. It’s great to talk to you.” I look out across the sea, watching the gulls wheeling in the marmalade-colored sky. “I haven’t messaged you because I didn’t want to make things difficult for you. But I have been thinking about you.”
“I know. I appreciate that. But I’ve thought about you non-stop.” She speaks quickly then, as if now she’s started, she can’t control the words. “I know I shouldn’t, but I have. I’m obsessed with you, Henry West. You’ve possessed my mind and my soul. I can feel your kisses all over my body like a brand. When I close my eyes, I can see you and hear you. I can smell your cologne. I can taste you. What have you done to me? Have you cast a spell? Why can’t I get you out of my head?”
Slowly, my lips curve up. “My work here is done.”
“Oh God, I hate you.”
I sigh, and eventually she sighs too.
“I don’t hate you,” she admits. “I should, but I don’t.”
“I’m glad.”
“Do you still want me?” she asks in a small voice.
“Every second of every minute of every day.”
