Page 13 of Found in Wild Sage

CHAPTER SIX

Declan

Evie blinks back at me, her mouth falling open a half inch.

“Your needs come second? A—a few years? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be crass, but Declan…” She leans forward and her voice drops low. “Are you telling me you’re fine being married for several years and not having sex?”

Her cheeks are still blazing and the disbelief etches into her voice.

In another situation, there might be more to say. Of course when a person thinks of marrying, they think a healthy sexual relationship would come with it. I’m no different. But I’m also not a self-centered tool who can’t see very clearly this woman needs someone to put her first for once in her life.

“I understand your concern and I don’t mean to dismiss it, but simply put, no. What I want is for you and Charlie to be safe and happy.” It is that simple.

Of course, it is not that simple, but for this moment, for our purposes, it must be. We’re going for logic here, not feelings.

She’s back to lashes fluttering as she absorbs my words.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand this. No one is this selfless. No one. Not even one of the great Ryan family.” She shakes her head slowly.

I don’t entirely understand why this is so hard to believe, but I know I’m not always particularly adept at knowing what others expect of me. So I try again.

“I’m not giving up another relationship. I don’t have anyone else I want. I’m not sitting here tallying up the dating opportunities I’ll miss. You clearly didn’t notice, but I don’t date. It’s not something I’ll suddenly be going without.” This is all technically accurate. I haven’t been in a relationship since med school. That spectacular and brutal failure put me off even attempting. I like cues, context—don’t make me read between the lines.

With Evie, I know exactly what I’m getting into.

A look flickers across her face, but I can’t read it. Her cheeks still have a faint blush, and I can’t help thinking she’s so lovely. So, so beautiful.

“Well, me neither, for what it’s worth,” she mumbles, then focuses her attention on her coffee.

It’s not as though I didn’t think of her having a social life. It’s more that I know she’s a single mom and even though Charlie’s fifteen months, it’s still a consuming situation for her. For anyone. But this comment checks my assumptions that she hasn’t dated and shoves me into the harsh reality that she, too, will be giving up opportunities to find someone. She’s saying she isn’t sacrificing it, but she will not be able to pursue someone else.

My path to finding a partner stalled out in my last relationship when the woman I thought I loved and would end up marrying turned out to be staying with me out of necessity. What I saw as a blissful pairing during the madness of med school, she saw as an obligation, paying me back in kind. She stayed because she was grateful for the fact that I bought our apartment and I made most of our meals. This, in the end, is not conjecture. She told me quite clearly when we began the process of applying to residencies and her list was a lengthy divergence from any place I’d listed.

While I used to actively try to fool myself into believing I didn’t want anything else because of that humiliating and, yes, heartbreaking discovery, life has shown me I do. Recent memories force me to admit that I do believe people are meant to be in community and in relationships, and that a great deal of value and meaning can be derived from making an effort to find one’s person. And then I met Evie…

On the other hand, I’m comfortable on my own, I like to prioritize work, I’m quiet, and I… well, the only person I’ve really wanted in any substantive way is Evie.

So maybe my intentions aren’t purely good or self-sacrificing here, though this time, I’m going in with my eyes wide open. I won’t be played again, and if I’m holding the reins, then that can’t happen.

“Then we’ll be married and celibate together.” It sounds less jocular than I planned, but it’s factual. What the statement lacks is a hope I’ve shoved down deep. A small tendril of longing and wishing I rarely allow myself—one that whispers maybe.

It’s a dangerous thought and it’s unfair to Evie.

But her expression, now that I take it in, makes me wonder. Have I misstepped by acknowledging the lack of sexual interactions we’ll have? Was this something that should’ve gone unsaid? Though I thought it best to verbalize, maybe even mentioning the not having of physical intimacy has made her uncomfortable.

No. If anything, it must be said.

“Forgive me. I think we have to be upfront about this.”

Her big blue eyes rise to meet mine.

“I agree. It’s just a very new dynamic in our relationship.” She laughs in a low, almost husky, self-deprecating way that makes something in me bend toward her.

Good grief, that sound.

It’s a laugh that hints at intimate conversations—of lips and hands and lives entwined.

Which is precisely the kind of thought I cannot be having.