it giving up, Stryder. I call it self-preservation. I can’t bear the loss of another child. Not in this lifetime,” Catalina whispers shakily, wiping the corner of her eyes with the hem of her t-shirt. Standing up, she returns to the bed and buries herself underneath the covers.
Her unmistakable sniffles tell me she’s crying, and I hate that I’m the cause of them. I scramble towards her, not knowing what to say that will ease her sadness. I need to say something, but a repeated “I’m sorry,” is all that comes out.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to bring this up. I just . . . I just wanted to know. Cat?” I ramble, rubbing her back over the layers of blankets covering her. When she doesn’t respond, tears of my own slip out at the realization that I, too, want something I’ve never wanted before.
A part of me realized it the day I met Catalina. I helped a woman carry her sleeping toddler into the flight cabin, and when that half-asleep child called me ‘Dada,’ something in me clicked. Somehow I knew at that moment life is too short and being a father is something I’d aspire to be in the not so distant future, and now that my heart belongs to Catalina, I want it all the more.
Listening to Catalina’s experience makes my chest tight. The woman I love has been through so much, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to wipe away those horrible memories and replace them all with happier ones. I won’t give up on showing her with every waking moment how much she means to me, and how much I want her to have hope and dream of things she once deemed impossible. And she will bear a child. I won’t give up on that dream until I make it a reality.
I undress, and lifting the thick blankets, I curl in bed beside her. At first Catalina tries to push me away, but after I trail small kisses against the soft curve of her neck, she concedes. Words aren’t needed, but I know my lady well enough to know she’s okay, and that helps me breathe easier. I’ll let this conversation go for now and wait until our lives return to normal. With all the recent events, perhaps I’m jumping the gun here and sprinting towards the finish line, when the truth of the matter is I need to slow down for her sake.
“Are we good?” I whisper into the silence of the room.
“Yeah,” she replies quietly, but says nothing further.
I exhale a shaky breath, trying to get past the awkwardness of our conversation. Her delicate hand touches the bare skin of my back, and scratches it gently and affectionately. I groan, and in a matter of minutes all the stress of the past week seems to fade away under her touch.
“I love you, Stryder. Just don’t give up on me, promise?” Catalina’s words are firm and full of promise.
I raise my head, and look deeply into her eyes, which are slightly bloodshot by tears. My hands find the curve of her jaw, and I say, “I love you too, Catalina. I’d never give up on you, or us for that matter. Never.”
My eyes zone in on those heart-shaped lips of hers, wanting nothing more than to kiss them, but I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because I love her so much, and I’m overwhelmed with our kind of love. You know the kind that makes you a lunatic, have out-of-body experiences, and do stupid shit. I love Catalina with every fiber of my being and want her to love me with the same fire and intensity. I’m not saying she doesn’t, because I know she loves me. There’s no doubt about that, but I’m a guy who needs his reassurances too. I close my eyes and breathe heavily, trying to dispel my insecurities and doubts. Catalina doesn’t deserve an ounce of my idiotic thoughts right now.
As if sensing my hesitation, Catalina raises her head, and her lips meet mine. She kisses me softly, and all of my negative thoughts are replaced with the reassurance that she loves me, and that alone is enough to make my blood travel south in a heartbeat.
My whole body shakes with anxiety as we