Page 16 of Instigator

“How did it go?”

I hold my breath, unsure what answer I’m searching for.

“It went.” The utter lack of inflection in his voice is telling enough. “There was no spark. She was pretty enough, I guess, but pretty isn’t everything. I’m looking for… more.”

“But you are looking?”

“I don’t really know.”

“You’re going on these dates, though.”

“Only because my sister thinks I need to start dating again.” He falls silent for a moment. “I don’t enjoy dating. I like being in a relationship. But after… well, it’s hard for me to trust anyone.”

“After what?”

His dark chuckle makes my stomach sink. “My ex tried to baby trap me.”

I choke. “What the fuck?”

“It was a few years before I met you. She slept with someone else before we got together, then tried to say the baby was mine.”

“Wish…”

“Yeah, it was a mess. I’ve tried to date a few times since then, but it… well, it never worked out. So I haven’t really dated in the last…” He mutters under his breath. “Eight, nine years.”

“The dating world is tough. I’ve got plenty of baggage after my divorce, and⁠—”

“You were married?”

His words are sharp with shock, a hint of steel in his tone.

We’ve never talked about dating or relationships, only enough to know we’re both single. How could we be in successful romantic relationships when we spend so many nights together?

“We dated all throughout undergrad and got married before I started my master’s, then divorced three years later. He wanted a good little wife and babies, and I was too busy getting my company set up and funded.”

“Do you want kids?” His question is so innocent that I know he doesn’t mean anything by it. But after so many years of people prying into my reproductive choices, it sets my teeth on edge regardless.

“I’m forty-three.”

“So?”

“So even if I wanted them, which I don’t, I can’t have them.”

If I were to get pregnant today, I’d be forty-four when the baby was born, and in my early sixties when the kid turns eighteen. I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them as they run and learn and play. Hell, I’m old enough to be a grandmother at this point.

I gave up my chance to have kids so I could build my company. I don’t regret that, not one bit. But I do resent the twenty years I’ve spent fielding questions about my decision, whether well-intentioned or not.

“You could adopt. Or foster. My sister’s fiancé was adopted at birth, but you can adopt an older kid.”

I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “I’m selfish. I like my life the way it is. Well, mostly, that is. I’d like a partner to come home to. But that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

“Why not?” He sounds so offended.

“Because nobody wants to actually spend time with me. It’s all about what I can do for them.”

His grunt of frustration warms me. “It shouldn’t be like that.”

“Yeah, but it is.”