Terms of Love

THIRTY-ONE

I lifted my head, squinting in the silent darkness. We had been sitting, holding each other, needing the closeness. I didn’t know for how long, but enough for night to have descended. “I need to add some more logs,” I murmured. “The fire is going to die.”

“I like it right here. I’m warm enough.”

I chuckled and pressed a kiss to her head. “We have to move eventually.”

“I should make us something to eat.”

“I need to find a place to stay.”

She froze. “You aren’t staying here?”

Tenderly, I cupped her face, brushing a kiss to her lips. “I want to. But I don’t want to push.”

“It’s a queen-size bed.”

I quirked my eyebrow at her. “Small for us. I suppose I’ll have to snuggle with you. I guess if it’s the sacrifice I have to make—”

Her lips curled into a smile. “I suppose so.”

“I’ve missed snuggling with you. I’ve missed your warmth and your smell.”

“Well then, I guess you better stay.”

“I guess so.” I paused, needing to ask her the question that had been simmering in the back of my mind for days. “I need to ask you something, Rosie.”

She drifted her finger over my stubble. “I like hearing you call me that.”

I tweaked her nose. “Good. I like saying it.”

Her expression changed to serious. “Now, what did you want to ask me?”

I shifted, acutely uncomfortable. “The night before you left. The night we made love.”

“Is that what it was?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “It was.”

“What about it?”

I got straight to the point. “I didn’t wear a condom. Is there any chance you’re pregnant?”

She shook her head, looking embarrassed. “When I was young, I had a lot of trouble with, ah, my periods. They put me on birth control pills to regulate them. I still have trouble, so I’m still on them.”

“Oh.” I sighed in relief.

“Don’t worry, Lisa.” She looked away. “I know how you feel about children.”

The sadness in her voice hurt me, and I slipped my hand under her chin, forcing her to look at me.

“You told me once you thought if I loved the mother, I would love the child. I think, perhaps, you were right.”

“So you want children?”

I fidgeted on the sofa, unsure how to answer. “This is all very new to me. I never thought I could love anyone. I’ve barely come to terms with the fact I’m so deeply in love with you, I can’t function without you. You knocked down every idea I held as the truth. I need you. I love you.” I shook my head with a wry smile. “I suppose it’s only natural to assume my thoughts on children could change as well.”

“It’s something we could talk about— later on?”

“Yes. I would ask for a little time, however. I want to have you to myself for a while. I want to know you — all of you — and you to know me.”

“I think that’s smart.”

“You’ll have to help me, sweetheart. I know nothing about kids. Nothing. The thought of screwing one up the way my parents did terrifies the fuck out of me, if I’m being honest.”