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He smilesprobably not. "What do you imagine? For your honeymoon?"
"Besides a naked man with a six-pack?"
"If you can envision anything else." A teasing tone slips into his voice. One I want to capture and hold close.
"A beach, I guess. A pool where we can tease each other or hang out and talk all night. That's always felt like an intimate space to me. I'm not sure why."
"The one in your backyard," he offers.
I nod.
"Did you have fantasies around it?"
"Yes, but you don't get any more info until you share yours," I say.
He nodsfair enough, but he doesn't shift to sex. He stays on the subject of post-wedding vacations. "I see a pool in my honeymoon too."
"There's one in your backyard too," I say.
He smiles that same teasing smile. He sits there, studying me, as if he's trying to decide if he wants to dive into sex or love. As if he's not sure which topic is more loaded.
But that's silly.
Of course, it's love.
Jackson's voice softens. "I always assumed I'd get married. That's what men like me do." When he catches me staring at his watch, he nods. "Men with designer watches, who have high-powered careers. They always have a wife and kids. I thought I would. I thought, one day, I'd wake up and want that life. But I'm not sure I ever did."
He didn't.
So he wants to end this too.
Good. That's good. I'm not breaking his heart. He wants to go back to his life too. This is just to help with his job.
Sure, he didn't spell that out, but it's there, implied by his words. And, sure, it's what I want to hear, because I want to know I'm not ruining his life, but—
Fuck it. I'll take it.
I'm not breaking his heart.
A happy ending.
"No," He says. "I do want a family one day. But I don't know what it will look like anymore. I don't know if I'm marriage material." He holds up his left wrist. "Yes, I have the watch, and the money, but I'm lacking something else. Women love me at first. Then they find out I'm missing something and they leave. There's no anger, no horrible incompatibility, no cheating. Just the women sayingyou're a great guy, Jackson, but I don't think this relationship is going anywhere."
"I'm sorry." I swallow another sip of tea.
"Don't be. They're right. They always say the same thing. They ask if I love them and I can't say yes, so… why would they stay?"
Really? It's hard to imagine Jackson withholding affection. But then it's also hard to imagine him lying if he didn't feel something. "You've never been in love?"
"I don't know. I thought so, a few times when I was younger, but was that love? Or just what I'd heard in a pop song?"
"You sound like Cassie," I say.
"Cassie would say love isn't like most pop songs. And she's right. It didn't feel like one of those songs. I never had that all-consuming drive to give myself to someone. To take all of them."
"Maybe the songs are the problem," I say. "Maybe we have misguided ideas about what it means to love someone."
"Maybe. Or maybe the women are right. I always choose something else over them. They want to come first outside the bedroom. They deserve that. But I can't give it to them."
