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Briefly, I look into his eyes that match the sky, barely a hint of blue, mostly gray. I love how his eyes change colors, but I don’t know whether it’s because of his clothing, the weather, or his moods.
Swirling the wine over his knee, he seems to be lost in thought. “So, why didn’t you tell Caleb’s father you were pregnant? Didn’t he deserve to know?”
Knocked off my axis, I didn’t expect that question and wiggle on the bench. He studies my reaction, but his face is void of judgement.
“It took me weeks to muster up the courage to tell him.” I wipe my hands over my thighs. “I needed time to come to terms with having a baby. I wasn’t showing. Hadn’t gained any weight. But I knew without a doubt that I would have the baby. It was always just Dad and me. I never had a big family.”
“And?” Reed’s arm snakes around my shoulders as he rubs circles on my back. Encouraging me to continue.
My insides shake at the memory and before I know it. I’m spilling my secrets that only Dad knows. “When I arrived at his place, his roommate opened the door nonchalantly, so I went back to his room. I turned the knob, and he was banging my sorority sister.”
“He had you and wanted someone else? He must be fucking crazy.”
“She jumped up, and he begged her to come back right in front of me. Her tits bounced as she retrieved her clothes and fled. But I shouted numerous curses at him and cried. My hormones were… operating at a high level I couldn’t control. I pushed him and called him every name in the book. When I called him a son of a bitch, he grabbed two fists of my sweater and threw me against the bed. Then he…”
“Did he rape you?” he whispers like someone would overhear on the vast resort property.
I shake my head. “I fought and kneed him in his privates. He doubled over but got up swinging, hitting me several times.”
A mixture of fear and disgust floats over Reed’s face before disappearing.
“His roommate came in and restrained him. I knew then, he would never be a dad to Caleb.”
“That’s awful. I’m sorry you went through that. No man should put his hands on a woman in violence.”
Something in the tone of his voice makes me sad, like he’s thinking of his own trauma. After a long stretch of silence, both of us let it seep into our souls. The feelings. The consequences of revealing my secret. But I trust that he won’t tell anyone.
Finally, he sighs, and the heat of his breath falls on my cheek. “Have you had a boyfriend or dated since you had Caleb?”
“No.”
“I guess you’ve been a little busy.” Reed sounds out a short laugh. “You don’t have to answer any questions that you don’t want to.” I fold my lips over my teeth. “Have you hooked up with anyone since you became a mother?”
“No.”
One of his eyebrows shoots up like he thinks I’m lying. He leans back against the bench, moving his head in disagreement. “You hooked up with me.”
Now’s my chance to tell him how I feel. Time to swallow my pride, my shyness, and the lump in my throat. Downing the last of the wine in my plastic glass, I bend over and nestle it into the ground covered with more frost than snow.
I reposition myself on his coat, angling my leg and facing him openly.
He’s a vision of strength and determination, his impeccable physique accentuated even through the layers of winter clothing. The heavyweight sweatshirt wrinkles across his biceps, highlighting his muscular frame. The way his body exudes an air of athleticism and confidence leaves me in awe. However, it's not just his physicality that captivates me; it's the way he carries himself, with a sense of purpose and unwavering focus. It’s the way he’s staring at me right now.
Reed finishes his merlot and sets his cup on the ground. I take the opportunity to cover his hand with mine.
“I don’t consider you a hookup. Casually having sex with someone doesn’t come with emotions, right?” Underneath my palm, his thumb sweeps across my skin. Back and forth. Coaxing me. When he doesn’t say anything, I repeat, “Right? Because I don’t know. Put me out of my misery and just tell me.”
The corners of his lips trend upwards enough for me to understand he likes it when I get worked up.
“Hookups are emotionless for me. It doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t like the person; it just signifies I only want to be with them once.” I feel his fingers running through my ponytail. “Cookie, I had so many feelings flowing through me last night that I’m drained.”
“I wasn’t a hookup to you?” My chest heaves as I emphasize each word.
He moves his hand from mine and caresses my face. His fingers move over my skin as if he’s trying to memorize the location of every freckle.
My lids flutter closed as his lips near mine, and my heart skips a beat. He whispers into my mouth. “I wouldn’t be here if I felt that we wereonlya hookup.”
His lips brush over mine like time has stopped. Left to right, he sweeps his flesh over mine, and I chase his lips until we lock onto each other. Our mouths melt into each other. There’s no tongue. No desire to rip his clothes off. It feels more like the need to be loved.
