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Chapter Twenty-One
The door key landed in the bowl on the console table in the hallway after Tricia had opened her front door. Dropping her designer purse at the foot of it, she kicked off her shoes. Studying her carefully, I noted how tense her shoulders were, and I could practically feel how wound up she was about something.
“Do you want some wine?” she asked, padding on down the hall without so much as a glance toward me. It was barely 1: 00 p.m.
Staring after her, I stuck my hands in my pockets and traced her steps without answering her question. My chest felt tight with concern, wondering why she was in the mood she was in, because what I was looking at wasn’t sexual frustration like I’d thought right after we had been interrupted in the shower.
Walking past her brightly decorated living room; I stared at the huge sunflower artwork she loved on her wall as I thought of something to say. By the time I entered the kitchen she’d already pulled a bottle of red from the rack and was uncorking it.
“Why sunflowers?” I asked, hoping to throw her off guard.
For a second, she stared back and she shrugged, her frustration temporarily placed on hold.
“They brighten my day. It may not be an obvious choice as a favorite flower, but they’re special in lots of ways. Each sunflower has thousands of tiny flowers within the head, and they’re self-pollinating so reproduce themselves. They don’t need a partner to shine. They’re also a food source, and an oil in cooking, plus in some parts of the world they’re thought to have healing properties. But mostly, the colors make me feel calm and I love how they reach up to the sky and find the sun… and like people, they need room to grow.”
“I didn’t know all that,” I replied quietly, not expecting as full of an answer as I got. I’d used the painting as a distraction from the dark mood I felt she’d lapsed into.
“Do you want wine or not?” she snapped her frustration immediately back. There was a bitterness in her voice I hadn’t heard from her before. Without giving me eye contact, she swiped one glass from an overhead cabinet and placed it on the counter.
I moved around the countertop and stood behind her. “Look at me,” I ordered, stepping into her space and alongside of her. She continued pouring herself a drink without responding again, so I placed my hand over hers on the bottle, stilling it and pulled it away. She made to lift the partly filled glass, but I caught her wrist before she could do it.
“Stop, Tricia,” I said, my tone gentler when I sensed turmoil in her mood. “Baby, look at me,” I coaxed, setting the wine bottle on the counter and turning her to face me. When her head remained down, I tipped her chin with my free hand, lifting her wounded gaze to meet mine.
“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked, my tone soft, my eyes serious as I absorbed the hurt held in hers. Tears brimmed in her eyes, clouding their amazing light and her face looked steeped in anguish. “Come on, baby. This isn’t like you and I can’t fix something when I have no idea where to begin,” I whispered, stroking her hair.
Tears fell when she closed her eyes and I kissed each salty droplet before it stained her skin. “Look at me, please,” I begged, “talk to me. Whatever is going on inside of you can’t be that bad. There’s nothing we can’t face if we’re doing this together, baby.”
Sniffing she turned her head away, pulled her hand from mine, and grabbed some paper towels. “That should be you,” she explained, dabbing her eyes and tipping her chin in the air like she was gesturing toward something. Her move confused me.
“What should? What are you talking about?” My eyes ticked over her face, my heart clenching when I saw her desperately sad eyes. “You need to explain, baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied carefully, as wrapped my arms around her. Her palm landed on my chest, a frown creasing a deep line between her brows as she resisted me taking her closer to my chest.
“The wife, children, a happy homelife full of people who adore you. Can’t you see, you deserve all of that,” she mumbled, her eyes averting my gaze.
I freed a hand and grabbed her chin again. “Stop looking away from me, Tricia, and don’t try to tell me what I deserve. What’s is going on here?” Her eyes snapped to mine and held my gaze, and my heart almost burst with tension at how distraught she appeared.
“Look into my eyes. Tell me what you see there,” I told her. Her eyes narrowed as her tear-filled look ticked back and forth over my face. “Can’t you see I adore you?” She chewed the side of her mouth and a glazed look fell over her, like her mind had taken her somewhere else. She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Why?” she whispered as a sob tore from her lips.
I grabbed both sides of her face to bring her attention back to me. I stared determinedly into her eyes, and prayed she saw the truth in my words. “Listen, baby, I’m only going to say this one time.” I took a measured breath to ensure my words sounded calm. “I am exactly where I want to be. You’re what I’ve waited for all of my life. I just didn’t know that until I met you. How else can you explain why I couldn’t forget you? Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go without a fight. You’re the love of my life.”
My declaration looked like a slap in the face from the way her head whipped to the side to avoid looking at me. “I’m forty-seven years old, James. I can’t have children,” she replied. “I don’t do babies. I know I love you, but if you stay with me, you’d be giving up all hope of children of your own.”
Grabbing her by her jaw, I turned her head back to face me. “Kids? That’s what this is about?” Her eyes locked in on my incredulous stare. “Fuck.” I shook my head. “No relationship is ever perfect. Sometimes we need to make small sacrifices in our pursuit of happiness. Baby, I love you. More than I’ve loved any woman, and more than I love the idea of something that may or may not happen that may or may not bring me joy. This,” I wagged my finger between us, “is what I have… what we have. It’s not some imaginary future fantasy. This is a fabulous reality, and as far as kids go? I have Sawyer’s, Caitlin’s boy, and Tammy’s girls for that matter, all the fun stuff with none of the grief of bringing them up. I’m the cool uncle.”
“Don’t you want to be a father?” Her question made my heart ache, because I almost had been once.
“Honestly? I’d never considered it until Charlotte got pregnant. I’m not going to lie, I admit I got used to the idea of bringing up a child until she got rid of it. That devastated me, the loss of a child, whether I knew it or not… it weighed heavily on my mind. And yes, sometimes I have wondered what could have been had she allowed it to grow.” I swallowed down the swirl of emotion when I heard myself speak those words. “Am I angry she took that opportunity from me, of course, what man wouldn’t be? But it happened, it was out of my control and I’ve lived with it. Who knows what would have happened to us otherwise, given how manipulative she was?”
“But you could have another child. That’s a choice you won’t have if you stay with me. Being with me means never having that option.”
“Why? Is this an age thing? If it’s what you wanted we could explore—”
“There won’t be any babies. I can’t have babies, I’m never going to have your baby,” she snapped, suddenly furious at my suggestion.
“Then why are you twisting the knife in me about something you don’t even want?”
“Because I see how you look at Sawyer’s kids. You’re a natural and they all love and adore you. Being with me takes your right to be a father away from you. Who knows, in a few years you may resent me.”
