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MEGHAN
Ifeel like an idiot. When Julian said he was taking me home to meet his mother, I assumed…
Well, there’s the problem. I assumed. Julian’s words ring loudly in my ears, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m truly his. If forever with Julian is no longer an option, then why even bring me here?
I swipe at the stupid tears trickling down my cheeks. It’s not as if we’ve talked long-term commitment. We’ve been far too busy battling Stephanie and finishing the semester to talk about anything beyond the end of the academic year.
I head to the small bathroom and wipe off some of the travel grime. Sometimes washing up with hot, soapy water makes things clearer, but when I look at my freshly scrubbed face in the mirror, I still feel confused.
What kind of future does Julian picture for us?
The front door to the cottage opens, signaling his return, and I step out of the bathroom as he enters the living room.
“I think we should have a talk,” he says sternly.
“Are you mad?” I ask.
His tone confuses me and I’m not sure what I did to deserve his anger.
“More so at myself than at you, little one.” He sits down on the small sofa and pats the space beside him. “Come on, Megs. Let’s have a chat.”
There’s a bit of awkward silence as I settle myself next to him. It’s almost laughable, two grown adults who have no idea how to have a conversation about the future.
“I know we’ve never really talked about it—”
I cut him off. “Do you want to marry me or not?”
His mouth opens slightly, but I’m not quite finished.
“Because if you don’t, then why bring me all the way here?”
“Meghan, you’re only twenty-one.”
“So? What does my age have to do with anything?”
“You’ve barely lived a life, little one. As much as I want to show you the world, I don’t want to deprive you of it, either.”
“You’re not depriving me of anything. I know exactly what I want, Julian.” My heart pounds and I push to my feet. “I knew when I was little that I wanted to study Shakespeare. And I know I want to marry you and have your children.”
Julian’s eyes widen slightly. “Let’s not talk about children yet.”
“Then maybe we should be more careful,” I hiss.
There are no barriers between Julian and me. The only thing preventing pregnancy is the tiny pink pill I take faithfully every morning. But Julian’s healthy appetite sometimes makes me wonder if we’re walking a fine line.
Julian stands and grips my arm firmly but not painfully. “Let’s get one thing clear, little one. I will have you whenever wherever I want. I could bend you over this sofa right now and fuck you.”
“Then do it,” I challenge him.
Regretfully, he lets go of my arm. “No. We have far more important things to discuss. But challenge me again and I’ll make your arse so red you won’t be able to sit for days.”
“I just want to know if there’s a future for us, Julian. That’s all.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not a goddamn fortune teller, Meghan.”
I can’t help the way I feel. I ache with disappointment.
“Oh, I see.”
