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Gosh, my sister really put the heavy load on him.
“Yes,” I say, working hard not to grit my teeth. He’s making marriage and kids sound like dirty words or something. “If I were in a relationship, it would have to be with someone who’s on the same page about having a family, eventually. I’m in no rush, but that’s the end goal for me.”
Archie looks up at me, a death sentence in his eyes. “I don’t know if I want kids. Up until a few days ago, I’d never even considered the possibility of settling down with someone. My job requires me to travel a lot and I wouldn’t even know if all that traveling would be compatible with a family.”
“Isn’t Logan’s job the same? He’s marrying my sister.”
“Yeah, but he’s cutting down on the traveling and I’m not sure if that’s what I want. I’m not Logan.”
“No one asked you to be.”
Archie passes a hand down his face. “Summer, let’s be honest with each other like we’ve been from day one. Are kids and marriage a deal breaker for you?”
I could lie, I could say no. I could spend the next however many years of my life loving this man and being happy. But how long before I resented him? How long before I blamed him for not having the family I’ve always dreamt of? If the past year has taught me something, it is that lying to myself is pointless.
I look him in the eyes and nod. “Yes, one day, I want to have a family. Are kids a deal breaker for you?”
His face remains stony, and he doesn’t respond.
And there it is, the ugly truth my sister has forced us to reveal to each other sooner rather than later. The San Andreas fault might as well have opened in the middle of our table, putting us on separate ridges, because we’ve never been so far apart.
“Okay,” I say, swallowing a glob of sorrow. Then I shrug in a “So what?” way. “Guess we’ll have to stick to the plan, then, and say goodbye on Sunday.”
Archie’s eyes cloud over, and the lines on his forehead crease further as he remains in a stony silence.
I’ve lost all my appetite, and the idea of riding back to the resort on Archie’s bike makes my stomach churn even more. I throw my napkin on the table and get up, saying, “I need to use the restroom.”
Instead, I walk out of the restaurant and call a cab. Once I’m safely inside and out of Archie’s reach, I text him.
To Archie
Sorry, I couldn’t stay
This was a mistake
Archie doesn’t text back.
* * *
I spend half the afternoon crying while taking a bath, and the other half crying while watching a marathon ofOne Tree Hillon TV. The teen show with its high emotions helps me mourn my own love story that will never be.
I want to be with Archie; every fiber in my body yearns for it.
But he’s not relationship material.
No, that’s not true or fair. The only problem here is that the man isn’t playing for keeps, because if he were, he’d be a fantastic boyfriend, husband, and father. Archie is kind and attentive when the situation calls for it, but also knows how to lighten the mood with a joke when things aren’t that serious. He has had many women, but I bet that if he picked one as his forever and ever, he’d be loyal till the end of times. As a partner, he’d be solid, generous, reassuring, frigging hot, fun to be with, interesting, challenging, protective but not asphyxiating, full of life, and amazing in bed.
And I can also picture him being an amazing dad so clearly, it hurts. He’d be his kids’ hero. Being the kind of dad who builds a treehouse in our backyard. Because we’d be the kind of family with the white-fenced house, the cat, and three kids, two boys and a girl.
And I’ve crashed into fantasyland again. I’d better rein in my imagination. No part of this dream of mine will ever happen. Maybe five, or ten, years from now when he could be ready or open to the idea of kids. But that’s a big if. I can’t spend years with a guy, hoping one day he’ll change his mind about having a family. If he’d said, yeah, I want kids, just not right now, I could’ve said yippee ki yay frozen eggs, we have all the time in the world.
But he didn’t, and I can’t dive head-first into another relationship that I know will end in a total disaster.
We’re doomed.
Story of my life.
I hate it.
