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Those weeks were the most fun I’d had in years.
Years.
I was caught up in a dream. And with the breaking of dawn, the dream must end. For Kyle and me, it came with the clarity of a bucket of ice water thrown in my face.
In the same coffee shop where we first met, he played with my fingers across the table. I shivered at the memory of the pleasure those talented hands had wrung from my body only a handful of hours before.
With a brief tug on my fingers, he nabbed my attention.
I smiled at him. Being with him made me happy, but at this moment, he looked nervous.
“I was thinking…” He paused. “I’ve had fun with you.” He stopped again and cleared his throat.
Anticipating his dismissal, I moved to free my fingers from his grip, but he clung fast.
“No,” he stated firmly, his nerves fading. “I like you, Hope. A lot. I think we could be more, and I want to take this to the next level.”
My eyes darted back and forth between his sincere ones and the door, my heart filling up like a helium balloon. Could I do this? There were nine years between us. Nine years. Maybe that was a lot, maybe it wasn’t. What made that determination?
My thoughts raced, then landed on one question. “Do you want children?”
He smiled easily. Triumphantly. “Sure. I could see us with a couple more Brayleighs.”
He’d been good with Brayleigh. He would be an excellent father. An excellent stepfather. Could this be it? Unbelievably? Had I found my unicorn?
I smiled. “How many more?”
A smile teased his lips as he stared off into the distance then brought his gaze back to mine. “I’m thinking maybe 2 more, but not until Brayleigh is in school. I’d like us to have four or five years to travel, really get to know one another. You probably want a big wedding…” His voice petered off as he looked at my face. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Kyle, I’m almost thirty-nine years old. I don’t have four or five years to wait to have a couple more kids. At best, I can probably have one more, and even that would have to be fairly soon,” I explained what I thought had to be obvious.
The hope in his eyes slowly faded. “I’m not ready,” he murmured.
I looked down at the table before meeting his eyes. With a sad smile, I squeezed his fingers. “Of course, you’re not.”
Releasing one of my hands, he rubbed his face and blew out a breath. Straightening to look at me, his jaw tight, he asked a question to which we both knew the answer.
“We can still see each other. You never know what could happen…”
My shoulders dropped. I could not be the fill-in until the future Mrs. Kyle and her youthful womb happened along to take my place. Especially not after having the dream dangled in front of me, however briefly, before being yanked away.
“I think it’s best if we part ways before our hearts become too involved.” I fought the tears in my eyes but didn’t entirely succeed.
His, too, shone with emotion.
I cocked my head to the side, the tightness in my throat strangling my words. “With you, for a little while, I felt truly wanted, inside and out. I want you to know that is not a small thing. Thank you for making me feel beautiful.”
A tear rolled down his face. He briskly wiped it away before leaping to his feet and pulling me into his tight embrace. Strong arms communicated clearly and concisely how difficult it was for him to let me go.
But let me go, he did.
Autopilot
Hope
At work, I maintained a mask of professionalism. At home was a different story. Three weeks, almost the same amount of time I’d spent in Kyle’s arms, crawled by before I completely found my feet.
Though our time together was short, it taught me exactly how I wanted, and deserved, to be treated.
