Page 65 of Forked (Frenched 2)
“Didn’t feel like it. In fact, that felt more like a first time than my actual first time, which was pretty fucking terrible, to tell you the truth. Terrible and very, very fast. Not that I really cared.” He reached over and took my hand. “With you I cared. I wanted it so badly, but I wanted it to be perfect. I was so in love with you.”
My throat felt like someone’s hands had closed around it. “It was perfect.”
“I never wanted it to end.”
I managed a smile. “Not even you can last that long.”
“I didn’t mean sex. I meant us.” He brought the back of my hand to his lips. “I never wanted us to end. I still don’t.”
I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it tight. “Nick, stop.”
“Come here, please.” He scooted over toward the passenger seat, reached beneath my arms, and hauled me onto his lap, my knees on either side of his hips. “Let’s talk about this. What are you thinking?”
“I can’t talk—I can barely think.” I braced myself on his shoulders, keeping him at arm’s length. “And being on your lap does not make that easier.”
He tightened his grip on my hips, lifted his slightly. “I know, it makes it harder. So. Much. Harder.”
I sighed, exasperated. “No jokes, Nick. We need to have a serious discussion. I messed up really badly! I’ve been stupid all weekend.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve been enjoying yourself. So much that your regular routine slipped your mind. You’re human.”
“But that slip might have resulted in a pregnancy. Do you understand that? A baby. I’m totally unfit to be a parent!”
“You won’t be alone, Coco. I’m here.”
“You’re totally unfit, too!”
“Hey, come on. I want kids, remember?”
“Not like this, you don’t. With your ex- girlfriend who—“
“Ex-wife, actually. Hey, let’s get remarried!” he said, as if it were the best idea he’d had in years.
“—ex-wife who hasn’t forgiven you for what you did and probably never will. And could you please stop proposing to me out of the blue?”
“Sorry. I just got carried away when you said baby.”
“I don’t want a baby with you, Nick. And I don’t want to marry you again.”
He was silent a few seconds. “Ouch. I’m not sure which part of that hurts most.”
I closed my eyes and tried to rethink what I’d said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, and if I am pregnant, that may change things, but right now, Nick…I am not OK with this. I wish I were. I wish I could accept your apology and understand your excuses and forgive and forget and all that, but I can’t. I just can’t. Because I don’t know how to trust you.”
“Why not?” His hands locked behind my hips. “Tell me what to say and I’ll say it. Tell me what to do to make you change your mind. I love you, and I don’t want to give up on us.”
“But you did! You already did!” It struck me then that maybe that’s the part I couldn’t get over. Even if I forgave him for leaving me in Vegas, I couldn’t get beyond feeling that he didn’t try hard enough to get me back, if that’s what he really wanted. “If you were truly sorry for calling our marriage a mistake, you would have tried harder to find me, to keep me. Even after I got back from Paris.”
“But I did try! You divorced me in sixty days!”
“I wanted to hurt you. Like you hurt me.”
He exhaled, dropping his head back on the seat. “I left you in peace after the divorce because I thought that was what you wanted. If you love something, set it free and all that. I’d fucked everything up, and I thought for once I’d try to be a gentleman.”
“I never wanted a gentleman. I wanted you.”
He picked his head up. “Thanks.”
I almost laughed at the offended look on his face, but every time I felt a moment of levity, reality sucked me down again. Groaning, I dropped my forehead to his shoulder. “What the hell, Nick? What are we going to do? Why can’t we ever get things right?”
