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"I wish I had been there for you," I tell her after a while. I can't hold it in anymore.
"I wish she never got sick," she counters.
"Yeah, that too. That would be the better wish," I nod. "I wish I could take back what I did…what you saw that day."
She nods in agreement. "I wish I knew how to be a good mom to Addy. Like…a real one."
It's like a game of tennis. Back and forth, score, all love.
No. Bad choice of words there. Deep down, I know what losing loved ones meant to both of us. How far we'd both go to repair the damage caused by grief.
I turn and look into her eyes. "I wish you could see what I see in you, so you'd know you already are a good mom."
"You don't know that," she argues. "Up until an hour ago, you didn't even know I was trying to pretend to be a mom."
"I know it's impossible for you not to be a good mom. Addy is lucky to have you."
"I wish I believed you," she whispers. Tears glisten at the corner of her eyes.
I reach my hand up to brush her cheek. "I wish you did too. And I wish I knew how to make that happen. I wish I had never hurt you, and that there was some way to fix it now."
She flinches, but doesn't look away. It's like she's too tired to fight anymore.
"You're just saying that out of guilt," she says, more tears welling up.
"I'm saying that because I love you."
My heart stops at the sound of the words. I've never said that to her before. I've never said it out loud to anyone, and I don't know if I've ever really admitted it to myself. But as soon as I hear it, I know it's true. I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life.
Vanessa looks shocked. "What…what does that mean?" she stammers.
"Whatever you want it to mean. That's how I feel."
Her eyes flutter shut and her head tilts to the side. I drift in to kiss her, relishing in the softness of her lips.
"You've gone crazy," she murmurs against my lips. "You're not thinking straight right now."
"Neither of us are," I tell her, pushing my hand into her damp hair. I take a moment to look deeply into her eyes, half-closed with sleepy desire.
"Let's not talk anymore," she says. So I angle her head towards me and kiss her deep and slow, savoring the taste of her mouth.
Her arms go around me, and she squirms as I pull her closer. "We shouldn't be doing this," she breathes shakily.
"Are you telling me to stop?" I tease her lightly, my hands caressing her belly softly, dipping a little lower with every stroke.
"Oh my God, no," she whimpers, as my fingers disappear below her waist. "No, don't stop."
"I won't," I say gently, reveling in the moment. I'm planning to be careful with her, sweet and soft and tender, but my muscles are already taut with need.
Her head falls back and I deepen the kiss, pressing my body against hers until we're both half-lying, half-sitting on ottoman. Her legs tangle around mine, and I bury my face in her neck, nipping at the soft skin with sharp intent.
Her hands go to my zipper. As always, she matches my pace, the intensity of my need for her. I groan as she touches me, biting hard into her shoulder.
Fast and hard at first, slow and soft the second time. That was always how it was with us.
But I'm a different man now, and I'm trying to do things differently. Better, for Vanessa and for us.
"Wait," I say, pressing a hard kiss to her jawline. She lets me shimmy the boxers down to her knees and lays there spread open to me, gleaming in the soft light.
