* * *

Oliver

Raven hair fanned out on a pillow. I never imagined I could love the sight of a pillow again. I was wrong. Vivian magically makes everything … better. Twenty-four hours ago I was three-thousand miles away and miserable. Now I’m me. Oliver, who loves rowing and dinner with friends and family. I’m the boy who dreamed of playing for the Red Sox from the moment I got my first baseball glove. I’m the guy who wants to call up his buddies from college and see if they want to play basketball in the park. This Oliver wants to hold on to the woman next to him forever.

I trace her tattoo as she sleeps on her stomach. Then I kiss every cluster of buds that I know hides her scars. But I don’t see them and I can’t feel them. It’s become impossible for me to see anything but a beautiful, radiant woman through and through.

“Good morning, babe.” She rolls toward me so her back is against my chest.

I wrap her in my arms and kiss the top of her head. “It’s the best morning.”

She traces gentle circles on my arms with her nails. “Can I ask you something?”

I laugh. “You just did.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yes. You can ask me anything.”

She pauses. I feel the weight of her question before she ever asks it.

“Why can’t you have children anymore?”

I release the breath that I’ve been holding. “Because I did some stupid shit after what happened.”

“Like drugs?”

“Like selling almost everything we owned and burning what wouldn’t sell, like our wedding album, and all our other photos, except for one.”

“The one of Melanie?”

I nod against her shoulder as I kiss it.

“So are you saying all the heat from the burning caused damage to your sperm like a hot tub or something?”

I chuckle. “No. It’s true about losing a child: It’s the ultimate loss. At the time I knew only one thing for sure—I never wanted to experience that again. So I got a vasectomy.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I regret making rash decisions at the time, even if they weren’t all wrong decisions.”

She turns in my arms to face me. “Was the vasectomy a wrong decision?”

I let myself fall into her eyes because I know somehow all the answers I’ll ever need are in there. “It was if you want to have children with me.”

“Do you want to have children with me?”

I kiss her forehead. “I want you and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

My lungs deflate, she does that to me—strips me down, exposes my weaknesses, and takes the part of me I don’t willingly give.

“I can’t imagine ever wanting children again because I can’t look at a baby right now and not see Melanie. But the only thing that’s more unimaginable than that is living without you.”

She kisses me, awakening my whole body. I have to remind a certain part that this is a serious moment and it’s not being called into action despite the mixed signals percolating through my mind.

“I love you and I’m so glad you’re home.” She nuzzles into my neck. “Mmm … it was a slow torture, but I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want you to feel rushed or conflicted. But now that you’re home I can say it…” she kisses her way down my chest “…I was miserable.” Her tongue teases over my abs. “God, I missed you.”

My dick hardens under her touch. She strokes me a few times with a desirous grin on her face, eyes locked on mine.

“Vivian …” I need to tell her.

“Hmm?” She sits up and straddles me.

“I need…” my thoughts begin to drift as she guides my hands to her breasts “…to tell you…” I squeeze her perky tits in my hands, circling my thumbs over her nipples. “…something.” My words are nothing more than a strained whisper.

She sinks onto me with a soft moan. “What’s that, babe … mmm …” She closes her eyes as I fill her.

“Nothing … it’s nothing.”

* * *

I’ll admit it, I’m such a guy. Sex trumps everything. The few times I’ve managed to resist her seductress temptations can only be described as aliens taking over my brain. I should have called and told her my plans. The surprise, while priceless, was not worth the pain I’m going to cause.

“Where are you going?”

She slips on her clothes and pulls her hair back. “I have to work today, but just until one.”

“But I just got here.” What the hell! I sound like a whiny kid.

“I know, I’ll make it up to you later and tomorrow, and the next day, and the next …” She winks and blows me a kiss.

I sit up in bed, running my fingers through my hair as I sigh. “Vivian, I’m not staying.”

She peeks around the corner with her toothbrush in her mouth. “What do you mean?” She mumbles over a mouthful of toothpaste suds.

I slip into my shorts and stand at the entrance to the bathroom. “I’m just here for the weekend. I needed to get a few things … I leave again tomorrow.”

She freezes with the toothbrush still in her mouth and stares with a blank expression at my reflection in the mirror.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to surprise you. I should have called and told you before I came home.”

Her eyes fall to the sink. She spits and tosses her toothbrush in the cup.

“Okay, I’ll just see you later then.” She squeezes past me without making eye contact.

I grab her arm. “Vivian …”

She yanks it from my grip. “No, it’s fine. Maybe we can go someplace nice for dinner or something. I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

I chase her down the stairs. “Vivian, wait!” I push the front door closed just as she opens it. “Don’t, please don’t do this.”

Her forehead thumps against the door and her sobs fill the air.

“I’m so sorry.” I turn her around and pull her into my arms. She doesn’t hug me back. Instead, she keeps her hands over her face.

My anger inside is fueled by her tears. Caroline is a lost cause and maybe I am too. I’m so fucking confused.

“I’m s-sorry.” She pulls away and shakes her head while wiping away her tears. “You don’t need this.”

I turn and take a few steps away with my hands planted on my hips. “Dammit! Stop apologizing. This is not your fault. This is me all me! My fucked-up life is sucking everything out of you. I wish…” I look to the ceiling, releasing an exasperated breath “…I wish I could just let go.”

She sucks in her quivering lower lip and swallows hard. “I have to go.”

My head falls, shoulders slump, and the door bangs shut.

* * *

Vivian

In the off-season The Green Pot closes at noon on Saturdays. Most days Maggie and I stay until one cleaning up and chatting. Today I don’t feel chatty.

“Spill it, Viv.”

“Spill what?” I ask, carrying in the mums from the sidewalk.

“You showed up late this morning with puffy eyes and you’ve been sulking ever since.”

“Oliver’s back.”

“Sweetie, that’s great … isn’t it?”

“He’s leaving again tomorrow.”

She stamps the back of the checks. “Well, at least he came for a visit, right?”

I frown. “He came back to get some stuff. The visit part is just a perk, if you can call it that.”

“He came back to see you, Viv. There’s nothing he forgot that he can’t pick up in Portland, except you.”

“You think so?”

She crooks her finger at me. I mope over to her.

“Come here.” She hugs me. “I know so. He loves you and being away from you has to be killing him. Besides, I’ve been so proud of you the past couple of months. You’re doing great in school, you still find time to help me out, and until today, I haven’t seen you be anything short of your jovial self.”

I step back and tug at my lower lip with a grimace. “Yeah, well it’s sort of been an act. I’m pretty driven so the school and work part has been easy, the jovial part … not so much. Honestly, I’ve been miserable on the inside. Life without Oliver is dull and lifeless. I shine when he’s here. I feel confident by his side and beautiful in his eyes.” I laugh. “I know it sounds so pathetic. I shouldn’t need a man to have that.”

“You’re right, you don’t need a man, Vivian. But life sure is a lot more fun with them.”

We both laugh.

“Thanks, Maggie. You’re the pep-talk queen.”

* * *

“Rosenberg,” I call, opening the front door. I look up as Oliver walks down the stairs holding him. Rosenberg barks and runs to me after Oliver sets him down.

“Hey,” he says with a sad, I-know-I’ve-hurt-you smile.

“Hey.” I pick up Rosenberg.

“Are we on for dinner at my parents’ tonight?”

“Yeah, whatever you want.” I slip off my shoes and go into the kitchen for a drink.

“Are you mad?”

I draw in a breath and hold it while my brain formulates the politically correct answer. “No, I’m not mad.”

Yes, I’m mad and I’m not sure why or even who I’m mad at. Oliver, for having a past? Myself for falling in love with him? Caroline? Her parents?

“Don’t lie. I know you’re mad.”

I set Rosenberg down and shake my head. Men are idiots; I swear it’s as much a part of the Y chromosome as their penis.

“Well if you know I’m mad, then why ask?” Sarcasm drenches every word.

“What do you want me to do?” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

I grab a glass and fill it with water. “I want you to do whatever it is you need to do, and I can’t tell you what that is because I don’t know.” I take a sip of water. “Talk to your mom or get help from someone else. Stay in Portland until Caroline gets better—”