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CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Monday, July 5
Connorand I managed to pull ourselves from our lazy habits of life at the beach in time to enjoy the Fourth of July weekend celebration. The island comes alive for two whole days. We watched the boats come into the harbor, decorated from bow to stern in red, white and blue. We ate grilled hot dogs and ate way too much ice cream. Fighting our way through flocks of tourists in town for the holiday, we made it to nearby Edgartown where the whole community turned out for a parade. We skipped the fireworks display that night since Connor isn’t comfortable with the sounds of explosives, but it didn't matter. He gave me my own private fireworks display in our bed. The man definitely knows how to light up my night and send sparks flying. My Inner Sex Goddess couldn’t be more delighted … or exhausted. #rocketman
I stretch out on the sand, testing the sore muscles of my inner thighs that were pulled over Connor’s rigid body for most of last night — and most of the morning, too. He can make me come so quickly when he lets me be on top, which he’s taken to doing every time we have sex now as a sort of contest to mark a personal best time. It’s a fun little lover’s game that has my sinew screaming.
“Keep arching your back like that, and I’m going to see if I can break the three-minute mark.” Connor teases.
“You’ve got to give me a break tonight, babe,” I beg. “Maybe we can just have a sleepover?”
He grins with that sweet love smile and blows me a kiss. “You got it. I hereby institute the ‘no sex rule’ for the next twenty-four hours. Though it won’t be easy. You could try looking a little less sexy in that swimsuit.”
We laugh at our escapades as I open up my coverup, giving him an eyeful, and then quickly close it again. That crazy man, I muse to myself. I adjust my sun hat and stare down at the water. A woman and her son throw stones, trying to see who can skip them the farthest, with the boy always winning. His short legs carry him back and forth, dodging the waves as they crash onto the beach. Blond hair flows down his back.
“That kid looks like he could be yours, Con,”I tip my chin to the boy.
“No way,” Connor grins. “He’s too well-behaved.”
“I bet you’ll have a litter of beautiful babies someday.” I reach down to tug a bottle of water and my newest Sophie Riley book from the bag I brought down from the house.
Connor leans back in his chaise and tucks his head under his hands, elbows outstretched. “Not me. I’m not having any kids.” His tone is casual. A bit too casual to be joking. I sit up a bit straighter. Why wouldn’t he want a family?
“What? What do you mean? You don’t want kids? Why?”
“I don’t want that, Lainey.” He pulls his sunglasses down from his nose. “Sorry.”
“What do you want then?” I’m totally taken off guard. I know Connor loves me. I know we’re happy together. His family is amazing and I know, based our discussion of all of his childhood antics of summer spent here, that he had a happy childhood. I shudder thinking this is more of the damage “she who shall not be named” has done to him.
“You,” he smiles, but it’s not his usual amused grin. This one is forced. “You want a beer?” And now he’s deflecting.
I shake my head “no” and not just to his offer of a beer. No to this — this reticence. If I have to follow the rules, so does he. Rule four: we talk.
“Seriously, Connor, what are we going to do when we get back to Atlanta? I mean, I’m eventually going to get a job. I’ll work nine to five, probably more like eight to six, and you’ll work when?” I struggle to sort through the images flashing through my brain. This is a fairy tale, and one I fear isn’t destined to have a happily ever after ending.
“I usually go in around four and stay till close. Two or three in the morning at least,” Connor says. He adjusts his shoulders against the back of the chair uncomfortably.
“See. And I’ll work Monday to Friday and you’ll work …”
“Weekends are my busiest times, Lainey.” He offers me his hand. “Don’t worry. We will make it work. I’m yours and you're mine, remember?”
“OK, but then what?” My heart starts to beat a bit faster. Maybe that beer would have been a good idea. Connor is the most amazing man I’ve ever known. I love him. I want a future with him, it’s my dream. My most fervent wish. The one I make every time the clock shows all the numbers the same, every time I blow the fluff from a dandelion. But I also want a family of my own.
“And then what, what? Does there have to be something more? Isn’t this enough?” His voice is calm, reasonable and utterly annoying.
“It’s unbelievable. But you don’t just want to date me forever, do you? What do you want from love, Connor?” I’m pushing his buttons now, I know I am. And he resists. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens and his lips press together. The more truth he shares, the more my heart breaks.
“Lainey. What do you want?” He asks quietly, cautiously.
“I asked you first.” I force him to say it. Say what I know is just behind those perfect lips, inside that delicious mouth. He doesn’t want me for anything more than this. I’m wonderful, sure. But it’s not enough for me, not for Evermore.
“Answer me,” he says in a no-nonsense firmness. His voice takes an edge. I square my shoulders and haul in a breath. I’m going to ruin everything. Again.
“I want to get married one day, I suppose.” My own voice sounds weak, scared. I am weak. I’m a coward, no matter what he tells me. “I want a family of my own. I’m not too old … yet, if I don’t dillydally around.”
“Babies?” He actually laughs out loud. “I’m sorry, but we want really different things. I don’t want to get married again. And I definitely can’t do babies, Raven. I have my reasons. Working late nights at bars and restaurants, is chief among them. That doesn’t exactly mix well with parenthood.”
I’m crushed. I lick my lips and stare back out at the water again. The waves rise up to a hopeful peak and then crash down forcefully on the rocks below before receding back into the ocean.
