I keep thinking it will go away, eventually. That I’ll get over it and move on. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced, frankly.
I’ve enjoyed men’s company. I’ve had a good time with them. But I’ve always been able to see, objectively, how it would go wrong if we stayed together in the long term.
There are plenty of reasons why it would go wrong with Tony. At the top of the list is the fact that I’m about to take on the most important responsibility of my adult life, and I need to focus on that. He just got out of a painful divorce, and he needs time to recover, to get his bearings again. He needs time to concentrate on rebuilding his store.
He lives in Queens, for God’s sake. It wouldn’t work.
And even if it did, it would fall apart eventually. I know I can’t maintain a long-term relationship—that I don’t want to. It’s not who I am. If I tried to be with Tony, I’d get restless, I’d feel cornered, and I’d hurt us both. I don’t want to do that.
I’ve told myself all of these things, forcefully and repeatedly, over the past seven weeks. And still, I close my eyes and I see him. I want him.
It’s probably the power of evolutionary biology, flooding me with find-a-mate hormones to help me protect the baby in the wild. If that’s the case, then maybe after I have the baby and make it on my own for a while—which I know I can do—these feelings for Tony will fade away.
Maybe then I’ll be able to tolerate his friendship without also wanting to climb straight through the phone and onto his dick.
The problem is, I don’t know how it will feel to actually be in the same room with him again.
And I’m about to find out.
He was supposed to stay home in Queens for Thanksgiving with his daughters, but last week Alexa’s mother’s health took a turn for the worse. She asked him if she could take the girls to see their grandmother, and of course he agreed.
So he’s coming up to Holly’s. He’ll be here, with me. And I will have to find a way to keep a distance from him.
Hopefully it will help that Ray, Holly, and Drew will be here, too, along with my mom and stepdad. I’ll need to keep them in the room with us at all times, because otherwise I don’t know if I can trust myself to not touch him. Which would be wrongheaded on any number of levels.
I need to stay focused on myself and the baby, for one thing. And for another, Tony does not need me messing with his head. We decided to be friends—that’s all I can be to him—and the kindest and cleanest thing to do would be to honor that decision.
And try not to think about the fact that I will have reached the safe zone of thirty-seven weeks by then. That I could have sex, if I wanted to. Which, when I think about Tony, of course I want to. I remember the feel of his hands. His warm skin. His heartbeat against mine.
And I want him so much it actually hurts.
I haven’t even masturbated these past eight weeks, as orgasm can stimulate contractions. That definitely is some kind of record.
It’s not the best time in the world to see a man who makes me hot all over. Who is also consistently—relentlessly—kind to me. I keep wishing he’d be an asshole from time to time, just to make things easier, but the jerk won’t oblige.
I’ll have to be strong and focus on what we can have, because above all, Tony has become a deeply cherished friend. I’ve talked to him every day for eight full weeks, and I’ve never once been ready to hang up the phone at the end of the call. I like him. It’s as simple as that. I like the person he is, I like the friendship we have, and the last thing I want to do is fuck that up.
It’s just one day—Thanksgiving Day—when we’ll be surrounded and distracted by good food and family. How hard can it be? When it’s over, we’ll each go back home, and soon the baby will come and break the spell and we can ease into a good, long friendship.
One that preserves all the goodness and caring between us.
One where we can see each other in person and it’s not that big a deal.
One that—Lord willing—doesn’t hurt so goddamn much.
—
On Thanksgiving morning, I dress carefully in leggings and a long, burnt-orange sweater, and look myself over in the mirror. My belly is considerably larger than the last time Tony saw me—like a watermelon ready to burst out of my clothes. My last sonogram, at thirty-five weeks, predicted Micah’s weight to be about six pounds. Not bad for a baby we feared would be premature.
It’s impossible to know whether bed rest bought us more time or whether things would have slowed down on their own, but either way, I’m grateful I had the cushion of Holly’s money to allow me to take the safe route. Not every woman would have been so lucky.
I was able to sit still and wait for Micah, and this might sound crazy, but I feel like I got to know him a little bit in that time. I felt his every move, and talked to him and sang to him. So that when he is born, he will recognize my voice and know me, too.
I turn sideways toward the mirror and regard the gigantic bump of my belly.
“Lookin’ good, kid,” I tell us both, and put on my coat.
I sing along to the radio the whole way to Holly’s house, and when I get there, Tony is sitting in the driveway in his parked SUV, both hands still on the wheel.
I haul myself out of my car and walk over to his window.
“Do you do this every time?” I ask. “Sit in the driver’s seat for twenty minutes before you go in?”
He covers his face with one hand and grimaces. “You saw me that night when Ray and Holly had the barbecue?”
I nod, smiling.
“I thought I was being smooth, hiding out in here.”
“I know you did.” I rest a hand on his windowsill. “Thought I’d give you that.”
“You’re such a jerk.” He chuckles and opens the door. Then he pulls me into a hug.
I don’t know what I was expecting. A rush of lust, a spiral of heat? I do feel all of that when his body presses against mine, but there’s something else, too. A sheet of sweet, hot water sluicing over my chest. A fist around my heart.
I hug him back, tightly, for a little too long, and he makes a sound against my hair.
“Beth.” His hand slides down my back and presses me closer.
I don’t know what to do with the cascading feelings that tumble through me. It was bad enough before, when we’d only truly known each other for a few days. Now we have two solid months of friendship behind us. Hours of conversations and letters. I know him now. He knows me. There’s no pretending this isn’t as fucking real as it gets, and we both know it.
And we have to somehow go inside and eat turkey with our families, and act like it’s okay.
When it isn’t.
God, it isn’t.
My arms tighten around him, and he breathes out, shakily.
I’m not sure when we become aware that Holly and Ray have come outside to greet us. Later than we should have, probably. We both take one abrupt step backward.
“Hi!” I say too brightly, and dive into Holly’s arms, and then Ray’s. “Let’s go in. It’s cold out here!”
I pretend I don’t see them eyeing each other strangely. I go inside and distract everybody by exclaiming over the apple pies. Soon, my mother and Donald arrive, Drew’s stepmother drops him off from an outing, and the atmosphere turns festive. We play a game of Bananagrams, everyone takes a turn helping out in the kitchen, and by four o’clock Ray is serving the turkey.
Holly has seated Tony next to my mother, which I thought would be awkward for him but actually appears to be delighting them both. She’s regaling him with stories of her cruise to the Caribbean, and he’s telling her all about his visit to Mexico with Ray last summer. Half their conversation is in Spanish and half in English. It’s rare, I realize, for my mom to meet someone who speaks her family’s language.
We all dig into the food and compliment Holly and Ray effusively, which they richly deserve. My mom asks Holly to tell the story of her engagement, and she laughingly
describes sliding all over the boat deck, soaking wet in her rain poncho, while Ray and Drew tried to drag her to the center of the mist so that Ray could propose.
“You were in on it?” Mom asks Drew.
“Yep.” He nods, proud of himself. “I helped pick out the ring, too. Me and Tony.”
Mom smiles. “You did good, fellas. That’s one heck of a ring.”
“How about you guys?” Ray turns to Don. “How did you two get together?”
“Oh,” Don says. “Now, that is a story.”
I roll my eyes. “Here we go.”
“Stop.” Mom turns my way and snaps her napkin at me. “My daughter here is a naysayer, but when we met, I’m telling you, it was love at first sight.”
Tony raises an eyebrow and smiles at me over a bite of butternut squash.
I’ve been trying all day—heroically, I think—to maintain a steady, convincing stream of holiday enthusiasm. No one needs to know how difficult it is for me to be here with Tony and act like it doesn’t hurt to see him. To be so near to him and have to hold myself so purposefully back.
I’ve managed, somehow, so far.
But as soon as I look at him, really look at him, across the dinner table, I know I’ve made a mistake. His gaze locks onto mine, and everything around us goes silent and still. All my bravado crumbles. The breath goes out of me, and I lean in, and his smile slips like I’ve hit him straight in the chest.
“We were at a grocery store,” Mom goes on quietly. “I was reaching for a can of peaches on a high shelf and when I came down off my tiptoes I backed right into him.”
“I caught her elbow and almost had a heart attack,” Don says, grinning. He reaches for Mom’s hand across the table. “I asked her out for coffee right then and there. Never done a thing like that before in my life.”
Mom squeezes his hand and smiles into his eyes. “And I’m very glad you did.”
I force a smile. “They fail to mention that I was standing right there. Twelve years old. And here’s my mom, making googly eyes at a strange man in the canned fruit aisle.”
Don chuckles. “You survived.”
“How long have you been married?” Tony asks.
“Twenty years,” Mom says.
“Wow.” Tony nods appreciatively. He tries to catch my eye again, but I won’t let him. I can’t. “That’s something.”
“Any advice for us?” Ray asks, taking Holly’s hand.
“Hmm.” Don scratches his beard. “What would you say, Paula?”
“I’d say make sure you keep a life of your own.”
I look at her, surprised, and she smiles at me. “Everyone should have their own space, honey.”
She turns back to Ray. “Because you need that space for yourself, to know who you are. And anyway, there will always be a moment when the relationship challenges you. You need to be able to go back to yourself and figure out what you really want. So that if you decide to stick around and work through it, you do that from a place of confidence and strength.”
Don smiles at her warmly.
“And if you do choose to stay,” Mom goes on, “you end up reinvesting, you know what I mean? And then you go deeper.”
“And then here you are,” Don says. “Still happy twenty years later.”
Everyone at the table pauses for a moment, taking that in. Then Drew asks Ray to pass the basket of rolls and the conversation moves on without me.
And without Tony. He’s gone quiet, and I know what he’s thinking. It’s the same thing I’m thinking, and don’t want to be. That it could go deeper for us. Deeper than it already is.
If I let it. If I don’t run away.
It’s just not something I can do, though. I want Tony in my life—of course I do. But I know that he wants what Mom and Don have together. And I know that, invariably, I would give him what Mom had with Dad.
Heartache.
I wasn’t built for long-term romantic commitment. I am too much like my father. Impatient and restless, wanting adventure and space and my own separate life. I would hurt Tony like Dad hurt Mom, and I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.
He deserves so much better.
I risk a glance at him and immediately wish I hadn’t.
He looks stricken.
And so totally, terrifyingly, heartbreakingly sexy.
I want him.
I want his arms around me. I want him inside me.
I want to be anywhere else but in this room, where he’s so motherfucking close, and I can’t have him.
I get up from the table abruptly. “Sorry, I—”
Tony rises, too, and Holly after him, but I hold up a hand. “I’m fine. I just…I need to lie down for a few minutes.”
My mother does not respond to the hand, which doesn’t surprise me. I’ve had a whole lifetime of her not backing off when I want her to. She pushes her chair back and comes to stand at my elbow.
“I’ll walk you out, honey,” she says quietly, and gives Holly and Tony a look to say she’ll handle it. Reluctantly, they sit down.
I’m staying the night in a guest room to avoid the ride home in the dark. Mom brings me to the room, shoves aside my stuff, and unceremoniously sets me down onto the bed. Then she pulls up a chair.
“Well,” she says. “He’s awfully attractive. I’ll give you that.”
“Mom,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Too bad he’s not the father, but he doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Mom—”
“No doubt you think you’ve got this all handled, Elisabeth.”
That stops me. She never calls me by my full name.
“You think, Oh, hey, I don’t need a man. And guess what? You’re actually right about that.”
I raise an eyebrow. It’s not exactly what I was expecting her to say. I always assumed she disapproved of my lifestyle, that she wished I would settle down already.
“You’re a confident, competent woman,” she says. “Don’t think I haven’t seen that. And admired it. You take excellent care of yourself and you make your own path. I love that about you, Beth.”
“Thanks, Mom, but—”
“And I’ll say it again. You don’t need a man.”
“That’s what I—”
“But you are allowed to want one,” she interrupts. “That’s not against the rules, you know.”
I start to argue, but she just looks at me, and eventually I give up and let out a long sigh.
“I know it’s not against the rules, Mom. I’m not trying to follow some arbitrary set of standards.”
“Actually,” she says, “you are. You think you’re going to hurt him, don’t you? You think you can’t be you and still be with him, and you think you’re going to get sick of that and leave, and break his heart.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you even know any of this? How did you know that we—”
This time she rolls her eyes at me. “¿Te crees que soy una idiota? You’d have to be dead to not feel the tornado spinning around you two.”
“Really? Is it that—”
“Yes.”
She sits in the chair beside my bed and gives me the Mom stare. I can only pray I’ll have half the Mom stare to give to Micah when the time comes.
I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t know what to do, Mama.”
She leans in and puts a hand on my knee.
“First time for everything, eh?” she says and laughs.
She actually laughs at me, that mean old witch.
It makes me laugh, too.
She leans in and gives me a good, long hug.
—
Later, after Mom and Don have gone home and everyone’s asleep, I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness.
I did go back out again later. And ate apple pie with everyone around the fireplace. We told stories of Thanksgivings past and went around the room, at Drew’s suggestion, to say what we were thankful for.
“For the past couple months,” Tony said
, his gaze on the fire. “For how much everything has changed.”
I said I was thankful for my family, and for friends, old and new. But I was looking at Tony. All night, I was looking at Tony.
At his sad, beautiful face. At the way he got up and gathered the dishes before anyone else even thought to. At his back as he walked slowly down the hall to his bedroom.
If we were both at home, we’d be talking on the phone right now. Every night for two months, I’ve looked forward to those calls with Tony before bed.
What did I think I was doing, accepting his friendship? I’ve only made it worse for both of us. I should have cut it off as soon as I felt it getting serious. Which would have been from the first fucking moment.
Love at first sight.
I’m no better than my gross, ridiculous mother. My sweet, patient, steadfast mother.
Who looked me in the eye tonight and told me, Do what your heart tells you, dumbass.
She has a way with words, that one.
I get out of bed.
And go silently down the hall in my nightgown. To Tony’s room.
Chapter 15
Tony
I’m sitting in a chair by the open window when I hear a creak in the hallway.
I came to bed over an hour ago, and one by one the sounds of the house have settled. Drew saying his good nights, Holly and Ray opening and closing their door upstairs, water running in the bathroom above. It’s been silent now for a long while, until that creak.
I turn toward the door, and Beth comes through it. In a white nightgown that shifts in the breeze from the open window. She shivers, and I don’t hesitate. I rise and go to her.
And she sinks into my arms. Like she’s always been there. Like she was meant to be there.
Her lips are already open when they touch mine. Her breath rushes into me, cascading through my body like a waterfall. My hands go to her hair. Her tongue slides into my mouth. She is hot and swollen—her belly and breasts bigger, stretched tight against the thin fabric of her gown. I reach for the hem and drag it over her head. There’s no time in this universe for waiting. I need her.
Just Give Me a Reason Page 15
