AllFreeNovel
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With Whitney, it’s different. We mesh well in some ways, and complement each other in others. It’s not a perfect match on paper. She’s much younger, with a whole life ahead of her. What if she wants kids? We never even discussed the subject. What if she wants kids with someone else? Someone younger? This annoying insecurity takes jabs at me.
Still. When I’m with her, I have this visceral feeling that it’s right. That we belong together. That this is how it was meant to be, as twisted as it sounds.
There is honesty in that feeling, and I don’t know how to escape it. Like breathing, it’s with me everywhere I go.
We throw axes for a while longer, then we move onto to the restaurant that’s part of this new entertainment complex. In that area, there are arcade games and rock climbing and it’s a lot louder than the ax throwing section.
“Oh my gosh are you Whitney?” says a kid to us; a kid that can’t be older than fourteen.
Whitney smiles. “Yes.”
“Can we take a selfie? I’ve been following you for years! I even ordered a Cameo from you.”
I’m about to offer to take a picture for them, but the girl enthusiastically put her hands around Whitney’s shoulder and snaps a couple of selfies. She’s still in a state of euphoria by the time she thanks Whitney again and leaves us alone.
We slide on the high table. “What’s a Cameo?”
“It’s a platform where people can pay celebrities to send them a video, wish them happy birthday.”
“But you’re clothed, right?” I ask, thinking of the several adult platforms out there.
She chuckles. “Yes. I mean I’m not famous, but because of the rise of my TikTok, I was able to get an account and do shout-outs once in a while. It’s fun.”
“Your love of what you do shines through. You’re very nice to her.”
She shrugs. “It’s a pleasure. She’s just a kid, you know.”
“Hey, you’re a kid too. You’re not that much older.”
She laughs. “I’m not even sure how to respond to that. But thanks, I guess?” She takes a look at the menu. “By the way, since we’re talking about children… why didn’t you ever have kids with Camille?”
“It just never happened,” I say. I remember for a while Camille got off the birth control and we tried, but she never got pregnant, and back then, even without us verbalizing it, we both knew we didn’t think that marriage would last to go through fertility treatments and such. So we just tabled the subject and moved on.
“I see.”
“Do you want kids?” I ask. “One day?”
“Yes. I want children. I come from such a small family unit, with losing my mom and not having siblings. I’d love to have a little gang to raise.”
The idea of her pregnant with my baby unfurls in my brain, and a light, breezy sensation sweeps over me. Despite our age difference and hell, my own age, the possibility of creating a family with her doesn’t make me scared. If anything, it gives me hope. “You’ll make a good mom one day. You’re thoughtful, caring, warm.”
“Thank you. I know it didn’t happen for you, but did you want children?”
“I.. hmmm… wanted a couple,” I say. I don’t know why I’m sharing this, but now I keep going. “We tried for a little bit, but I think it was too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“Too late for trying. Not the pregnancy, but when we tried we were at the end of our marriage even if we wouldn’t say it. So when it didn’t happen naturally, we both just accepted it, and a year later, we got divorced.”
She reaches to my hand and squeezes it. “It’s not too late for you trying with someone else.”
I intertwine my fingers with hers. The breezy sensation from moments earlier shifts into a stronger energy, and it takes hold of me. A small part of me holds me back, a dying voice about to get lost in the abysm of my soul. I should tell her she’s being optimistic, but I can’t bring myself to. Not when I want to believe what she’s implying, not when I believe it too—because of her. “You would do it? Have a kid with me?” I say it out loud, emotion leaking into my voice. The details of what may happen and the repercussions reveal themselves slowly in my brain, but that gut feeling of being the right thing to do wraps around me.
“Yes,” she says, her eyes lighting up, her expression soft and warm like the rest of her.
We glance at each other, a smile pulling at my lips.
“Are y’all ready to order?” the waitress says, showing up.
