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I reached across to hold her hand but she pulled away and it hurt.
“Are you ashamed of me?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
“Are you serious? Why would I be ashamed of you?” she shot back, her eyes locking with mine.
“You must have told your parents about me,” I said, searching her face for answers.
“They don’t even know we’re dating,” she confessed, her voice barely audible.
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t find the right response. The car fell silent, the only sound being the faint hum of the engine as we drove on.
“Why?” I pressed, leaning in slightly, my eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.
Erika glanced away, her fingers idly twisting the strap of her purse. “I don’t want to tell them,” she finally admitted, her voice tight with frustration. “They already give me enough grief about settling down. If I tell them I’m in a relationship, they’ll be on my ass about everything that comes with it.”
“Like what?” I asked, though the tension in my chest was already answering the question for me.
“Marriage. Children,” she listed, her tone sharper now. “They don’t realize they’re the reason those things are a turn-off for me.”
My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my tone steady. “You don’t want children?”
Erika’s gaze flicked to mine, a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“Do you?” I pressed gently, leaning back slightly to give her space.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she finally admitted, “Eventually. Why?”
“Because I want them,” I said, the words coming out more intensely than I’d intended. “And I don’t want to convince you to have them if you’re not interested.”
“I am interested,” she insisted, her voice softening as she turned her gaze back to the window. “Just not now. Why are we talking about this? We have such a long way to go before we even consider children.”
“I was just curious,” I murmured, sensing the tension in her body and wanting to ease it, even though I couldn’t shake the knot tightening in my stomach.
Erika sighed again, this time more deeply, as if she were letting go of the conversation entirely. She shifted in her seat, curling up slightly and leaning her head against the cool leather. Within minutes, her breathing became slow and rhythmic, and I realized she’d fallen asleep.
I glanced at her every few moments, the flickering lights from the highway casting fleeting shadows across her face. Her expression was peaceful, but the weight of our conversation lingered heavy in the air.
As the miles passed, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was heading down a path that would lead me to the same lonely place as my brother—longing for something I couldn’t have, or worse, losing something I’d already found.
Erika was asleep when we arrived. I carried her upstairs to my apartment and undressed her without her stirring. Once she was snuggled under the covers, she mumbled something…Foster.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I said, carrying a tray of coffee and buttery croissants into the bedroom. Erika was curled on her side, her hair tousled, but as I approached, she slowly opened her eyes and yawned.
“What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Just after ten,” I replied, placing the tray on the bed beside her.
“I slept a long time,” she said, sitting up. The white sheet slipped down, revealing her full breasts. I knelt beside the bed, unable to resist nuzzling her soft skin.
“I worked out and made a few phone calls,” I said, my lips brushing against her chest as I spoke. “You needed the rest.”
She sighed contentedly, her hand finding the back of my head as she scratched at my scalp. “I love everything about you,” she murmured.
I pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. There was a sleepy, vulnerable quality to her expression, her face still puffy from sleep. “You were restless last night,” I observed, studying her reaction.
“I was?” she asked, taking one of the steaming blue mugs of coffee from the tray.
“Yeah,” I said, watching her closely. “You were talking in your sleep.”
