Carter shook his head as if trying to clear it.
"That was a kid," he stated. "I don't like kids."
I bit my tongue. He was still in shock. I couldn't just go off on him because he said something like that. Hell, I don't even like kids and I live with one. I love my kid, but that doesn’t mean I like him all the time.
"I used a condom. I know I used a condom," he said in an accusatory tone, shooting me a panicked look.
Okay, that was it for the tongue biting. The pleasure I’d felt earlier when he’d had his body pressed up against mine and his lips on my neck flew right out the window.
"Really? You can actually remember that? Because I'm pretty sure up until about twenty minutes ago you had no f**king idea who I even was. You're right though, you did use a condom. You put it on three thrusts after you took my virginity. But let me clear something up for you there Einstein, they aren't one-hundred percent effective, especially when they aren’t used properly," I fumed.
"I dry heave whenever anyone pukes. And I don't know how to change a diaper," he said in horror.
"Carter, he's four. He doesn't wear diapers. And he's not Linda Blair from the Exorcist. He's doesn't walk around spewing vomit all day," I said with a roll of my eyes.
"My wiener hurts. I need a drink," he muttered before turning and walking out the door.
By the time Liz and my dad came back to the store with Gavin, I was in no mood to talk to either one of them. I put Gavin in the car and went home without saying a word. I was probably acting like a big baby, but I didn't care. I was mad at them for thinking this whole thing was funny, I was mad at myself for not telling Carter as soon as I saw him, and I was mad that I was mad about all this.
Who cares that he freaked out and would probably never talk to us again? It wasn't like we were missing out on anything. Gavin had no idea who he was. How could you miss something you never had?
But I did have him. Literally. And even thought I was f**ked up at the time, I know what I’m missing. For two weeks he opened up to me and I knew so much more about him than I did before. I know he loves his family and wants more than anything to have one of his own some day. I know he’s a hard worker and would do anything for those he loved. For just a moment, it was nice to have him here. To be in the same room with him, to see him smile and hear him laugh, to feel his arms around me and know I wasn’t alone in this crazy parenthood thing.
Shit. I was good and f**ked. I did care. I wanted him in my life; in Gavin’s life. I wanted Gavin to know his father and I wanted Carter to know what kind of an awesome little person he helped to create. I want to spend more time with him and I want him to know me. Not the partial version I gave him on the phone for fear of slipping up about Gavin or the chocolate-scented fantasy version he held onto all these years, the real me. The one who put her dreams on hold to raise his son, the one who would do it all over again in a minute if it meant she got to have Gavin in her life, the not so perfect crazy me who jumps to conclusions and freaks out about the most mundane things and who would give anything to go back to that morning five years ago and stay curled up in that boy’s arms who smelled like sweet cinnamon and whose kisses were hotter than an inferno.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house from top to bottom. This was a sure sign I was agitated. I hate cleaning.
I was on my hands and knees pulling shit out from under the couch. A pop-tart wrapper, a sucker stick and a sippy cup with something chunky in it that was probably milk at one time.
Jesus, Gavin hasn't used sippy cups in over a year.
"Mommy, are we havin' people over for a party?"
"No, we're not having a party, why?" I asked him as I picked up two pennies, a nickel and four empty fruit snack wrappers.
"Cuz you're cleanin'. You only clean when people are comin' over."
I pulled my head out from under the couch and sat back on my feet.
"I do not only clean when people are coming over," I argued.
"Do too."
"No I don't."
"Uh-huh."
"Do not."
"Do too."
Gaaaaah! I'm arguing with a four-year old.
"Gavin, enough!" I yelled. "Go clean your room."
"Freakin' hell," he mumbled.
"What did you just say?" I asked him with a stern voice.
"I love you mommy," he said with a smile before he threw his arms around me and squeezed.
God dammit. I am way too easy.
I ignored three calls from Liz throughout the day and one from my dad. Liz’s voicemails weren't surprising.
"Stop being a dick. Call me."
"Did you pull the stick out of your ass yet?"
"…..OH YES! Harder Jim! Oh f**k yes…"
That bitch actually butt-dialed me while she had sex with Jim.
My dad's voicemail showed just how concerned he was for my well-being.
"Did I leave my Budweiser hat at your house last week?"
As the day wore on, I started to feel sorry for Carter. I mean really, he did kind of get blindsided. One minute he was leaning in to kiss me and the next he found out he was the father of a four-year-old.
Good God, he almost kissed me.
My hand paused in the process of putting our plates from dinner into the dishwasher, and I stared off into space as I remembered what happened between us before everything went to shit. I should be trying to think of what I was going to say to Carter when we spoke again, but the memory of this morning was too fresh in my mind and it had been too long since I let a man get that close to me. My body was starved for affection. And even I couldn't deny that some small part of me had always dreamed about being with Carter again. Completely sober this time so I could remember every single detail. I was embarrassed to admit that he had always been the star in my spank bank reel. Except it was always made-up things since not much about our first encounter could be used as mast***ation material aside from the kisses and how hot he looked. I had real life facts to use now. His lips had been soft and warm on the sensitive skin of my neck. I felt the tip of his tongue sneak out and taste me and I wanted more. His breath against my cheek made my heart speed up and warmth explode between my legs. When his firm hands and strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me up against him, I felt every inch of his body, including how much he wanted me. I had been on a small handful of dates over the years that never went much beyond kissing. None of those men ever made me feel even a tiny bit of what Carter did. I never craved more with any of them; I never daydreamed about what it would be like to feel their lips and tongues moving over every inch of my naked body. What would it be like to be with him without the haze of alcohol? Would he take his time? Would his hands be strong and demanding on my body, or soft and gentle? The beep of a new text message on my phone startled me from my fantasies, and I almost dropped the plate I was holding. I shoved it into the dishwasher and shut the door before walking over to the table and snatching up my cell.
