Page 144 of Run to Me

Not a doll. A living, breathing person who will depend on me and need me when I’m off helping strangers feel good about themselves. Plenty of women have what it takes to be badass working mothers—role models for their children. But do I? I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve to have a successful career and a loving family. I worry I’ll have to choose, and regretting a decision only leads to resentment.

Once again, I question if motherhood is right for me. Thankfully, I don’t have to find the answer any time soon.

Tatum wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Does someone have baby fever?” she sing-songs.

“I don’t know. I’m horny as fuck, and I can’t figure out why.”

“Maybe it’s because you and Jensen finally have some breathing room. You’re able to focus on each other without all the distractions.”

She makes a good point. Jensen and I dealt with a lot of other issues at the start of our relationship. We weren’t able to focus on us as a couple because we spent our time either having sex or helping each other through hardships, often both. There was no downtime in between. From what I’ve witnessed in other happy couples, the downtime is when foundations form and love grows.

“He wants to take things slow, which means no sex. I agree with his reasons, but when I look at him, I want to tackle him to the ground and rip off his clothes.”

Lucy offers her words of wisdom. “I bet if you tell him you want a baby, he’ll end the sex ban.”

I gaze intently at the baby in my arms. “Honestly, I can’t picture myself as a mother.”

Tatum presses her face to mine, cheek to cheek, as we admire her beautiful son. “Caring for people comes natural to you. I’m living proof of that. Jensen’s living proof. Marcus, Graham, Miguel, even Vera. You’ve cared for us all and asked for nothing in return. You have more patience and perseverance than anyone I know. Two qualities that make a great mom.”

“What if I don’t want to be a mom?” I whisper, ashamed for voicing the question while hugging a newborn close to my chest.

Lucy asks, “What if you do, just not right now? You may think differently in a few years.”

I sigh. “Jensen wants kids, but I’ve made no promises. We have a lot of work to do on ourselves before we can think about bringing a baby into our lives.”

They don’t argue with my reasoning because we all know it’s true. Instead, Tatum encourages me to sniff Lennon’s hair, and oh. My. God. Is there a better scent on earth than a baby’s head? I don’t feel weird admitting this to Tatum and Lucy because, of course, they agree.

Quiet minutes go by before I’m unable to hold my tongue any longer. “Your face has been touching my face for a long freaking time,” I say to Tatum.

Because our cheeks are pressed together, I feel her smile. “And I’ve enjoyed every second of being this close to you.”

“Creep,” I say, fighting the grin tugging at my lips.

She lets out a long, contented sigh. “I love you too.”

55

MAISY

“This doesn’t count as a date,” I say.

Jensen opens the door to an art studio in an Austin shopping strip. “We’re doing something outside of the home. It’s a date.”

“If you say so.”

He bumps into my back when I come to an abrupt stop inside the spacious studio. I assumed we’d be the only two in attendance for the trial art therapy session, but several people seated at tables forming a square are staring at us.

“You didn’t tell me this was a group thing,” I whisper.

“I didn’t know. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Searching for a clock on the walls, I ask, “Are we late?”

He checks his watch. “No. Just the last ones to arrive, I guess.”

This knowledge doesn’t put me at ease. I don’t know why I’m so worked up. He’s the one who gets flustered about punctuality. If he isn’t worried, why should I be? My stomach’s in knots, and I’m seconds away from declaring this experience a stupid idea. At least it isn’t my idea.

I joined Jensen’s last virtual session with Dr. Sims. We spent most of the appointment discussing my thoughts and feelings about his behaviors, actions, and how I coped during the no-contact period. By the end of the meeting, I knew I needed to seek counseling for myself. Despite all the improvements I’ve made in my life—prioritizing my needs and opening up more to my friends—I still have trouble conveying my emotions, which is what brings us here today.