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“No, that’s true. It’s lately I can’t stop thinking about you.” Again he went quiet, staring at his mug. Then he put it to his mouth and drained the rest of his coffee. “I think maybe when I went looking for you, it was more than Ajax I wanted.”
Marcella couldn’t believe that. A few weeks of good sex eleven years ago could not be the basis for whatever he was talking about. She shook her head.
“Yeah,” he countered. “I’ve been trying to work all this out, and it’s starting to get clear. I think so. I think I need to make a family.”
The sense of offense hit Marcella hard, and her first impulse was to lash out. But she clenched her hands around her mug and kept control. This conversation was already an unholy mess. They were discussing deep, real shit for the first time, and it felt like they were surrounded with dynamite.
Blowing this up into a screaming match might feel good in the moment, but she had Ajax to think about. He liked Eight, so far. So she and his father would have to figure out what they would be to each other, and how they would treat each other.
Or maybe she was making excuses because there was a part of her that wanted to try, too, and blowing up at him would slam the door on his attempt to be honest about what he wanted.
Was there a part of her that wanted to try? Yeah, there was. He’d been in her thoughts for days, too. Not just flashes of the feel of him, but also those moments when he’d been vulnerable. She’d thought a lot about their talk in Ajax’s bedroom. And about the way he’d been with Ajax. And the way he was right now. He was obviously really trying, and it affected the way she saw him.
However, the idea that they should try because he felt like he needed a family was bullshit. Not blowing up did not mean she’d let him get away with that line of thought. “And you think you’ve got a family ready-made? Listen. That’s not how this works. You can’t pop in and claim us like you’ve had us in the bank all this time. We’re not your mid-life crisis safety net.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then tell me what you mean. Ajax and I are not your family. Family is built. It’s more than blood.”
“I know that. I’m saying … I’m saying I want to try to build that with you.”
“Because I’m Ajax’s mom?”
“Yeah.” She opened her mouth, ready to hit back at that, but he put his hand up. “I know it has to be more than that. I’m an asshole, not a moron. But yeah, you’re Ajax’s mom, and it would be good if we worked out, too. And I do like you, Marce. Always have. It’s you that hates me.”
“I don’t hate you, Eight. You piss me off to the ends of the earth and back, but I don’t hate you.” Lately, her feelings had grown much more complicated than simply not hating him, but she wasn’t ready to face all that, let alone speak it.
But they needed to unpack the mess between them and figure it out, or it would grow into a cancer that corrupted their son’s life.
And yeah, she maybe did want to try—if there was, or could be, something real to be salvaged from all the mess that was them.
She finished her coffee and pushed the mug to the side. “Okay. What—besides Ajax—makes you think we’re worth a try? What do you like about me?”
“You’re hot as hell, for one thing. Beautiful and great in the sack.” Again, when she tried to push back, he lifted his hand. “I know, but it’s something. I don’t think attraction and great sex is nothing. I’ve fucked a lot in my life, I popped my cherry forty years ago, and I know it’s not that great too often. Maybe that means something. But I also like how talented you are, and smart, and what a good mom you are.” He grinned a little. “And I like how you fight. It’s fun, getting into it with you. At least when you’re not totally busting my balls.”
Truth be told, she liked it, too. Probably it was at the root of her attraction to men like him—she didn’t want abuse, of course, she’d cut the dick off any many who put an angry hand on her, but a good old-fashioned argument, really letting it fly? Getting all the rot out in the open, and then making up after? She loved that.
But that was twisted, right? Part and parcel of her tragic taste in men, and the source of her aloneness. Fighting like that was only fun until the shit that got said was meant to do damage.
“You’ve never been in a relationship, right?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. Have you?”
“None since Ajax, but a couple before that. They didn’t last long.”
“Do you want to be alone?”
“I’m not alone. I’ve got Ajax.”
“Marce.”
She knew what he’d meant, but if deflection wasn’t going to work, he’d have to put himself out there before she did. “Doyouwant to be alone?”
“I’m asking to try with you. Is that answer enough?”
She supposed it was, or should be. Still, how did one trust such a huge change in a man like Eight. “But you’ve never wanted a relationship before. You wanted to be alone.”
He sighed. “You’re right. I always thought I did. Always thought I didn’t want anybody around with an opinion about the way I lived my life. For a long time, that felt right. It doesn’t anymore.” Another sigh. “No, I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you. Or try, anyway.”
