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Wrong choice of words? “She doesn’t think it will happen again.” Which leads me to the question that’s been burning in the back of my mind all evening. “Would you want to try? Again? Is having a baby something you want?”
Are those tears shining in her eyes? She blinks a few times, collecting her thoughts or emotions, maybe both. “More than anything in this world. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I don’t hold my mother’s terrible mothering against her, I think she did her best, but even from a young age, I knew I wanted to be a mom, and that if I got to have a child of my own, they would be the most loved, well-cared-for baby in this world.”
I’m blown away by how honest she’s being, by how much she’s sharing.
“And marriage?”
“Nooo…”She shakes her head, her reaction decided and immediate. “Nuh-uh. No way.”
She feels very strongly about both topics. I’m just surprised it wasn’t yes to both. I took her as more traditional than this. First comes marriage, then the baby in the baby carriage. What’s stopping her?
I top off her wine, wanting to extend the conversation, to get more out of her. “Why no to marriage?
“You’ve heard about my past. You know I’ve been burned before. First, by a fiancé who was trying to hurt the family. And I didn’t see it. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. And it almost got someone I loved hurt. I couldn’t trust after that.”
She sips more wine.
“And…”
“And then my husband.” She holds my gaze for a beat. “You know what happened to him. He died too. On our honeymoon. That’s just crazy. Isn’t it?”
I guess it makes sense she doesn’t want to marry again, after what she’s been through. Still, she just seems like the kind of woman who would want motherhood and marriage to go hand-in-hand. “Do you think things might change over time, that you could ever try it again?”
She shrugs. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m convinced...” She sips a little more wine and gives a tipsy giggle. “I’m cursed.”
“Cursed.” I remember her saying something about that when I was interrogating her, eating her sweet pussy. I thought it was just an offhand comment. Didn’t think she was being serious. And I was a little distracted at that moment.
“Yes.” She nods. “Cursed. The common denominator of their deaths? Me. I’m just bad luck. I’m destined to be alone. I don’t want to risk losing another man. No, thank you.”
“I don’t believe in that kind of thing. Sometimes, bad shit just happens. That’s life.”
“Buuut…”She twists the stem of her wineglass between her forefinger and thumb. “When that bad stuff happenstwice,you can’t just explain it away. It’s a curse.”
There’s no changing her mind. I shift to another subject, trying to keep the mood light. “How many little brats are you thinking of having?”
“You mean, how many precious children am I hoping for?” She gives another giggle. “I don’t know. Two? I know myself and I like everything so perfect all the time, I think two might be all I could handle.”
“I think you, Charlie Bachman, can handle anything you put your mind to.”
My compliment makes her flush. “Thank you. That’s sweet.”
There’s that word again. I raise a brow to her. “Stop calling me sweet or you’re going to find yourself over my knee.”
She looks right at me, her eyes shining with mischief and wine. “You, Nikolaos Bachman, are a big, sweet, sweetie.”
Challenge accepted, little lady.
18
Charlie
The wine feels good,cruising through my veins, warming my blood. Makes me feel a little bit naughty. My she-devil gives a tipsy laugh, ready to see where this night goes. He tells me I could do anything I put my mind to. How sweet is that? I tell him so.
He lifts a dark brow sky high. “Stop calling me sweet or you’re going to find yourself over my knee.”
