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5
Just as before, Alejandro and I sit and hold one another as we come down from the sex high. The passion has faded for the moment, both of us sated. Thoughts of bringing him inside, into my home, plague me. I wish so badly that he could stay here, in this state, instead of returning to his own. I want more than anything to have full, uninterrupted access to him, but I know that right now, it’s impossible.
We both have lives that need tending. Whereas I have a job that allows me total flexibility, he does not. For the time being, I have to be satisfied with what time we can steal with one another, unless or until either he or I can relocate.
Plus, it’s too early yet. We haven’t been together long enough to make such a permanent leap.
Are we even together?
In my heart, yes, we are. The moment I returned his declaration of love, there was no other man for me. Which is why I will never be able to understand how someone—like my husband—can run around having sex with random strangers. How do they live with themselves? The guilt and shame alone would be enough to kill me. It speaks volumes to their character, their dishonest, disloyal nature making them the ugliest of God’s creatures.
Wrapped tight around Alejandro, I lean back and gaze into those shimmering brown eyes and see only beauty. Honesty. I imagine he’s as stripped bare as I feel, completely open to me as I am to him.
This is why I get lost in Alejandro. When I look at him, I feel as though I’m seeing into his soul. He’s genuine—a rare and prized commodity in this modern world.
“What are you going to do when you get back home?” I ask him, my fingers flirting with the collar of his T-shirt.
His hands skim a path up and down my sides and he blows out a breath. “Sleep. Work. What about you? What you going to do when I’m gone?”
Smirking, I say, “Sleep. Work.”
He smiles briefly, finding humor in my words as I intended him to. Then his expression falls and he traces a finger across my abdomen. “When do you find out for sure?”
I don’t need to ask to understand his meaning. The question of the pregnancy test I took a few weeks ago is a constant factor in my daily life. “I have an appointment in a few days. I should know then.”
“What are you going to do if you are?”
Now it’s my turn to breathe deep. “I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly planning on having more kids right now.” Hell, neither of us were.
“Would you abort?”
Instantly, I make a face. “No. God no.”
“So, you’d want a Latin baby?”
I smile softly and lean forward to place a soft kiss on his lips, then I whisper, “Yes.” The background of a child—my child—doesn’t matter to me, especially if it’s his. Hell, in my current state of mind, I’d have a dozen with Alejandro and wouldn’t think twice about it. It’s all about where the heart resides, and mine is firmly with him.
“I think you are,” he says, and we both look down at my stomach.
“Mmm, no, I don’t think so.”
“You’re going to be changing diapers soon.” I arch an eyebrow, and he quickly revises. “Okay, okay, we both will.”
Pursing my lips, I relent, because I have enough experience by now to know that he’s relentless. Plus, he’s too cute for words. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say.”
“Ah, Mami, you not mad at me, are you?” I shrug and he chuckles. Sitting up, he starts kissing the side of my neck saying, “You can’t be mad. It’s too soon.”
I’m not mad, and we both know it, but I continue playing along. “I should smack you.”
“Why such violence?” he says, his voice shaking with laughter.
“Fine, I won’t smack you,” I relent. “I’ll just kiss you really aggressively, and we’ll have angry make-up sex.”
A deep, purr-like sound rumbles in his chest and he tips his head back to peer into my eyes. “Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
So do I. And considering the fire burning in his eyes, I’m so glad I suggested it. We fool around a bit more, taking and giving pleasure to one another, then holding and talking afterward. When the quiet morning hours begin to weigh heavily, we part ways with the promise of more to come.
It kills me knowing that he won’t be here when I wake up, and that promise is all that gets me through the days ahead. The distance is killer, chewing away at the mind, heart, and soul and the only thing that buoys me are our frequent-but-not-nearly-enough texts.
