by Fran Louise
I made a detour through the park since it was still not quite dark. Coming out at the other side, I found myself standing a few blocks down from my apartment, facing a row of terraced brownstone townhouses. It sparked a reminder in my head. Rummaging in my bag for a moment, I found the keychain Rosalind had given my earlier in the day. I looked at the address handwritten on it: West 71st St. I looked up at the street sign ahead of me, my lips parting to allow a small gasp: W 72nd Street. I faltered only for a second before heading south.
West Seventy-First Street was a tree-lined road with terraced townhouses running as far as the eye could see. I crossed over to the left side of the street, my eyes pouring over the rich detail as I passed. Each townhouse had four stories, not including the basement, with three windows per floor facing the street. I came to Nathan’s house quickly; it was the only painted brownstone on the street, gleaming white against the rest of the dark houses. An elaborate stone staircase led to the double front doors. Unable to bridle my curiosity, I jogged up the stairs and fitted the key in the door. At the click of the lock I felt a burst of excitement.
Inside, I groped around for a light switch. I prayed that the electricity would still be connected. It was, and when the light flicked on I was rewarded with an amazing view. Wooden flooring gleamed from the foyer to a set of stairs that seemed to continue upwards towards the heavens. I stepped forward, peering into a sizable family room. Out at the back I could see a decked garden area in the remaining light from the dusk. I walked towards the French doors, my eyes widening when I saw plump snowflakes pouring from the sky. No wonder it had seemed so light outside! The grin that gripped me was childish and gleeful.
Turning my attention back to the house, I was surprised to find myself standing in the large kitchen area. It was fully fitted but bare of appliances. A leisurely tour of the house uncovered a first floor with a study and two large rooms. The bedrooms were on the third and fourth floors, each with an impressive en suite bathroom. The house was a dream, with amazing views of the park and the surrounding city. It had so much potential! I wondered if Nathan was going to decorate it from a distance, the way he had with his Vermont house. The idea prompted a rush of anguish. It would be a crime not to renovate and decorate this house with all the respect the architecture deserved. It should be lovingly worked on. I awed and fretted in equal measures as I eyed the cornices, which I was sure were original. If it were my house, I’d do it bit by bit, starting with a clean base and then adding to it with pieces discovered here and there. This, in my humble opinion, was how a house became a home.
I wandered back down the stairs, my fingers trailing down the smooth wooden balcony. Also an original, I suspected, as I studied the ornate wrought-iron guard. On the first floor, I stopped to stare out at the back garden again, enjoying the sight of the rushing snow coating the decking. I thought for a second I could see my apartment building, but a noise stopped my investigation.
Alarm slid across me like ice when I heard the front door rattling. The house was lit, but apart from me, completely empty. Feeling a rush of blood to my head, I tiptoed over to the balcony again to peer down at the front door. A figure was behind the glass, tall and wide enough to be a man. He seemed to be alone. My heartbeat hammered. He was rummaging through his pockets. My eyes zeroed in on him desperately, looking for something reassuring.
Could it be a realtor?
When the door opened and I saw Nathan stepping inside, I was momentarily incapacitated by the joy fizzing through my veins. He looked up, smiling at me. His dark hair and clothes were dappled with moisture from the snow. Before he could say anything, I skipped down the stairs, surprising myself by opening my arms to him when I reached the bottom. I wound my arms around his neck and buried myself in his hard warmth.
“Hey...” He sounded taken aback, his deep voice gentle. “You okay?” He pulled me back, still smiling. “You like the house?”
“It’s amazing,” I said, though the wonder I felt wasn’t because of the house.
He nodded. Then on a burst of some indefinable emotion, he said “God, it’s good to see you! How are you feeling?” Concern edged his tone as he pulled back again. “Rosalind said you seemed fine at lunch-”
“I am fine!”
His expression remained guarded.
“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t hide my pleasure at seeing him. “Rosalind said the band were recording the new album all week-”
“They just finished,” he said. He loped an arm around my shoulders and led my back through to the kitchen area. “They don’t need me for the editing.” He became distracted by the surroundings. “Wow, this is nicer than the pictures.”
“How long are you back for?” I asked.
He gave me his attention again. “We’ve got a few appearances to make next week in New York, so I thought I’d come up early and start organizing this place.” He looked around. “I thought it’d be a lot worse than this. I reckon a few coats of paint and I could probably move in.”
He was here for at least a week; I felt something inside of me settle, like a small animal curling into a comfortable position to sleep. Staring up at him, I felt a rush of love so strong that I was sure he would see it if he looked down at me. In that second he seemed so vital, and so real and constant in an otherwise crazy, mixed up world.
“What are you up to at the weekend?” he asked, oblivious to the emotions rampaging through me. He didn’t wait for my response; instead he wandered over to the French doors and yanked them open. “I thought we could go on a furniture hunt once I’m done calling the contractors tomorrow. If they get the painting done next week, I can have everything delivered the week after.” When he turned back to me, his dark eyes were creased with warmth. “I’ll need a crib,” he said, his tone ceremonial.
I laughed, though the sound was nervous. A crib …! I hadn’t even thought about how to accommodate for a baby in my own apartment yet. I only had one bedroom; where would the crib go? Next to my bed?
Perplexed, I dragged my attention back to the present. “Sure. Sounds like ... fun?”
He strode back towards me, clasping my face in his hands. “You still look astonished by it all.” He leaned down and kissed my lips. “You need to relax.”
“I am relaxed.” I said. I couldn’t help but stare at his mouth as he pulled back. I was suddenly a little too relaxed for my own good. The hypnotic sensations trickling through my nerve-endings were all travelling towards a spot hidden snugly between my legs.
Why did he always have to smell so good ... and taste so good, too? It was distracting.
I stepped away. It was like something was gnawing at the back of my brain. Like a spot at the outside corner of my eye that I couldn’t quite focus on. These pregnancy hormones had turned me into someone I sometimes didn’t recognize. I didn’t know my own mind anymore, let alone my own body. It might be instinctive to run to Nathan, to want to lean on him, but the simple matter was that he was not in my life in any real sense. He was the baby’s father, and as such part of the baby’s life, but his relationship to me was ... undefined. I tried to find a better word, but the fact was that I couldn’t define what he was to me or what I was to him.
My gaze on him was heavy with thought. “We need to talk,” I said.
His expression fell. He took a moment to consider me before speaking, as though I was some small but wild animal that might attack. “Sure,” he said, but there was slight hesitation in his tone.
I took a deep breath and decided it was time to be honest.
Chapter Six
“It’s not that I have anything to say particularly,” I started. Good start. How could I be so uncomfortable around him after all these years? I could barely decipher anything behind his opaque facade. “Nothing specific, like one thing we need to discuss-” I exhaled slowly. “I’m ... I have no... We aren’t-” I inhaled quickly, looking anywhere but at him. This was worse than open court! “I need some ground rules,” I managed finally.
Yes, ground rules. I turned back to him and felt some assuredness return. That was what I wanted to talk about. That was what had been bothering me. He looked skeptical, but not totally closed to what I was saying. I focused on the premise and allowed it to develop in my mind. “We need ground rules. We’re not in a committed relationship, and so we need to decide how we want to bring up this baby.”
He lifted his brows and let his gaze wander around the empty room while he considered this. Then he hoisted himself up on the island, the only place to sit, and leaned back on his hands. “Okay.” His eyes were narrowed again when he turned his attention back to me. “What did you have in mind?”
Good question. I faltered for a moment. Why had I brought this up? Oh yeah ... I’d been riding the emotional rollercoaster called hormones. Or had I? Was this prompted by something else? “I don’t like this...” It was my turn to stare at the empty room now as I tried to isolate my feelings. “-indecision.” No, that wasn’t it. “I mean, I have no idea how you want to do this. How we’re supposed to live together. Not literally, obviously, but in a figurative sense. Co-exist with the baby.”
My chest became tight again as I considered this. A wave of sadness so intense swooped down upon me that I wondered for a terrified moment if I might well up. I looked down at where my hands were clenched over my stomach, before loosening them and pinioning him with a forceful look. I had to pull myself together.
“We’re not in a committed relationship,” I started again. “Which means at any time you might decide to enter into a relationship with another woman.” Wow, I sounded so matter-of-fact. Proud of myself, I warmed to the topic. “We have to consider what’s best for this baby and I don’t think we should wait until the issue comes up to deal with it.”
“I’m not seeing someone else.” His frown deepened. “Are you?”
“No, but that’s not the point of what I’m getting at-”
“Because you keep harping on about not being in a relationship, and I’m starting to wonder if you’re worried that this baby thing is going to tie you down somehow,” he said. “If you want to see someone else-”
“It’s a baby, not a ‘baby-thing’, and I’m not seeing anyone, Nathan!” I was floored by the absolutely flawed logic of his reasoning. How could he get it so wrong?
“I’m not against talking about the future, about making plans, you know.” His expression was steely now. He sounded as though he was holding on to his patience. “I’d just rather not keep having these cryptic goddamn discussions about not being in a committed relationship-”
“I just need some ground rules, Nathan! In case one of us does meet someone. Is that too much to ask?”
“You shouldn’t be getting upset,” he said. “It’s not good for the baby.”
“Oh my God!” Frustration made my limbs ache. I paced away from him. This was impossible! How was I supposed to have a reasonable discussion with him about anything when he wouldn’t listen to what I was saying?
“What is this really about, Chloe?”
“It’s really about exactly what I said it was about,” I responded, feeling inexplicably overheated in the frigid house. I yanked my scarf off. “This isn’t about us. There’s a baby to consider, and we can’t have random people coming in and out of his or her life. I’m sure you don’t want to have to deal with some guy playing temporary dad to your child just because I happen to be seeing him-”
“You’re damn right I don’t!” Nathan jumped off the counter, towering over me.
I steeled my back. “Good. Then, as I said, ground rules.”
“You can’t get into a relationship with anyone while you’re carrying my baby. Non-negotiable,” he said.
Carrying his baby? He made me sound like a bread maker baking a loaf for his dinner!
“Absolutely non-negotiable,” he reiterated. “No sex with anyone. At all.”
“I’m not exactly in the mood for romance, Nathan-”
“You sure as hell don’t give off that vibe around me,” he countered hotly.
The accusation stunned me for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That five minutes ago I could probably have persuaded you to make love on the floor here if I’d wanted to,” he supplied, his tone slightly threaded with arrogance. “After however many goddamn years it’s been I’ve learned to read the signs pretty well. Until you started to get randomly upset about ground rules-”
“Listen- fine!” I ground the words out. There was no sense in denying it; I’d never given Nathan any reason to doubt my attraction to him, and there was no sense in starting now. Even if I resented it beyond all reason right at this second. “What I mean is, I’m hardly on the market to pick up other men-”
“You’re not, but there are plenty of other men on the market to pick you up.” His tone became flinty again. “No relationships, no sex, non-negotiable. I don’t care if you meet the love of your life and he promises to set you up for life.”
I stared at him blankly. Meet the love of my life? What a joke. If Nathan had any idea ... did he even think me capable of running around with other men so casually? All I did was work. Nathan was my only ... what? Lover? The notion made me feel faintly nauseous. I wondered if the morning sickness was coming back.
I flung the restriction back at him, awash with irritation suddenly. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I suppose you think it’s okay to mess around with other women, since you’re not the one carrying the baby?”
He paused. “Technically, yes-”
A gasp of air left my lungs in a rush, carrying an astonished, humorless laugh. “You have got to be joking! Seriously? You think it’s okay to tell me I can’t get involved with other people, when you-”
“I didn’t say I was going to get involved with other women,” he shot back. “Christ, Chloe. And anyway, you’re the one who made sex out of bounds, not me,” he accused, defensive now. “I don’t even understand why. You really think enforced celibacy is the answer to anything?”
“Yes! And while we’re on the subject of sacrifice, I have to push an eight pound human being out of my body, so I hardly think your having to take a few cold showers is too much to ask!”
He strode over to the window, his back rigid. He turned to face me. “You want a ground rule, sweetheart?” He didn’t wait for my response. “You agreed to have this baby with me. You don’t get to throw that back in my face, ever. You agreed to everything this entails, including the childbirth and the sleepless nights and the impact it’ll have on your career, but you don’t get to blame me for any of that. This is your decision, your responsibility.” His voice was so rasping that I instinctively stilled to hear it. “There is nothing I can do to change any of those facts; if I could, I would. All I can do is try to make them easier to bear. But you don’t get to use that like some kind of weapon against me.” He exhaled tightly. “That’s my ground rule.”
I felt a faint thread of shame at the back of my mind. Was I blaming him for what was to come? Already resenting him? I swallowed back the lingering nausea. The accusation wasn’t totally without merit, but still ... I felt it was unfair. I didn’t blame him for any of this. I just wanted to feel that he was in it, as much as I was. In it for the long haul with every compromise and sacrifice that might ask of us. It sounded like the same thing, but ... it wasn’t. I just couldn’t work out why right now.
This was hopeless. I felt my posture deflate. Suddenly I was very tired. “Then my ground rule is that I don’t want to know if you’re seeing other women.” I uttered the words simply, too exhausted to be diplomatic. “I don’t want to meet them. I don’t want to hear about them, and I don’t want them around the baby after it’s born.”
“We’re not in a relationship Chloe,” he said. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you’re off the market only temporarily.” His tone grated. “Why should you care if I-?”
“I don’t!” I jerked with the
emotion of my response. It made my back flinch in pain. I picked up my scarf from where it had fallen. “I’ve told you what my rule is. Screw around all you want. Just be discreet.”
His curse was cutting and savage. “You really know how to piss someone off when you want to.” Taking a deep breath, he crossed towards the island and retrieved his phone. “I’m going to presume this is all hormonal, give you the benefit of the doubt-”
My patience snapped. “This is serious! I expect you to take it seriously!”
“I do!” He rammed the phone into his pocket. “I also think there’s a better way to handle this. That we don’t have to be at each other’s throats for the next six months.” He clasped my arm and led my resentful body towards the door. “No more ground rules tonight; I’m taking you home. You look strung out.”
“Don’t bandy me about like I’m a child!” I jerked my arm out of his hold. “I arbitrated a sixty-million dollar deal this afternoon with thirteen corporate executives going at me hammer and tongs, and I don’t need to be treated like a soft-minded woman by you!”
Then, inexplicably, I burst into tears.
Later that night, back at my apartment, I lit a fire and lay back on the sofa. Lauren came though from the kitchen with a bowl of salted popcorn and set it down between us. I switched the basketball game down to low volume. We were both fans, thanks to our father’s unquenchable enthusiasm for the sport, but right now it was clear that we had other things to discuss.
