“Wait.” She put her hands over mine and tried to sit up. “I didn’t shave my legs.”
"It's okay." Smiling, I continued to pull the jeans over her thighs, and she flopped back onto the bed with a relieved sigh. With assistance, Lisa wiggled into my boxers, and I covered her with a blanket. "You good?" I asked. She nodded, and I stood to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m going downstairs to sleep on the couch.”
“Could you stay here?”
“Um, sure. I’ll be right here until you fall asleep.” I moved the clothes that were piled up in the seat of my armchair and sank into it, turning to face her.
“No, goofball.” She patted the bed beside her. “Here.”
“Lisa.” I sank further into the chair. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
"Please?" she whispered. "I had a bad night." She patted the bed again, and I scoffed. "I'll give you something I know you want."
"I'd prefer to have that when you're not wasted." I shifted in the chair. Lisa threw her head back, laughing. She was a happy drunk, and though I knew that she didn't usually drink, it was fun to witness.
"You get in this bed and hold me—nothing else—and I'll tell you what you said to me the night we met." She raised her eyebrows in supplication, and she was still smiling. Her deal had minimal downsides, so I crawled onto the mattress beside her.
“Cole,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“You’re on my hair.”
"Shit, sorry." I shifted, and she pulled her hair up into a messy bun before resting her head on my chest. I pulled her into me and began to caress her back.
"My ex-husband called me while I was at dinner to tell me that he was getting married again." She heaved a sigh. "He's marrying the woman that he cheated on me with." She paused for a long time, and when she spoke again, it was in a quiet voice choked with tears. "They have a baby, and she's pregnant again."
“I’m sorry.”
"Me, too. We tried for years to conceive. We thought it would be so easy once we were ready, but nothing happened. We both got tested, and when I got diagnosed with PCOS, we thought we had an answer, and there would be some magical treatment, but nothing. We tried medications, IVF. We even looked into a surrogate. I got angry, depressed, and we fought all the time. I gained a lot of weight, and we stopped—maybe that's TMI. Anyway…I thought we were just going through a rough patch—you know, for better or worse—but he found someone else. Someone who could give him what he always wanted. I guess he wanted kids more than he wanted me." She began to sob softly on my chest.
"But I wanted babies, too. I wanted them so badly. It's all I've ever wanted. You know I went to school for vocal performance. I have a degree in it. Singing was the only thing I was ever good at, besides taking care of kids, and I thought I'd only be using my degree to sing my babies to sleep. My parents convinced me to graduate from college before I got married. I didn't think I needed to because I had my whole life planned. I was going to be a wife and mother, and I didn't need anything else. When I told them my major, they refused to pay my tuition. So, now I have a degree in music, no husband, no kids, and thirty thousand dollars in student loans. Stupid, right?"
"No. It's not stupid." I pressed my lips to her forehead. It was a protective impulse, and I felt like she needed it. She wrapped her arm tighter around my chest and squeezed.
“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m talking too much. Am I rambling?”
She was definitely rambling, but I was hanging on her every word. “Nope. You’re good.” I kissed the top of her head again.
“The night we met…you said something while you were very drunk—which is kind of ironic given our present circumstance.” She let out a watery chuckle. “You said that I would be a…shitty mom. Then you almost fell over walking to your stoop.”
My chest tightened, and the blood drained from my face.
Jesus fucking Christ, Cole.
"Lisa…I don't know what to say. I am so sorry. That was an incredibly fucked-up thing to say to anyone, regardless of their circumstances…and I know better. I was fucked up that night, but being drunk isn't an excuse. I can't believe I—" I was going to try to keep apologizing, but she stopped me with a clumsy finger to my lips.
"Shhh…I know you didn't mean it, and I know you didn't know what you were saying." She lifted her head to look me in the eye and rested her hand on my cheek. "You're not the man I met that night. You're so much more."
“Did I say anything else that night that’s gonna come back and bite me in the ass?” I smiled down at her.
“No, but you did keep calling me Crystal,” she giggled. “She’s your mom, right? Your birth mother. The woman in all the pictures?”
Lisa was talking about the pictures of Crystal and me all over the living room.
