Page 49 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

“I don't really have any,” I confess.

“That's really sad, though. Everyone needs a dream.”

“Okay, the heavy stuff. This is a bit early in the situationship for this convo, but if you must know, there is an issue that stops me from being able to dream of the life that I want.”

His face grows serious. “What issue? Are you sick?”

“No, it's nothing like that,” I say. I scratch at the mug in front of me, rubbing my nail over a tiny indent in the ceramic. “The problem is, it's hard for me to daydream about a future when I can't imagine ever having a happy marriage.”

“Just because your first marriage wasn't happy, doesn't mean you can't ever have a happy relationship.”

“I know, but most people see marriage as part of a package, one that always includes children.”

The toast pops making me jump, and he puts it onto a side plate and leaves it to cool for a minute.

“You don't want children?” he asks.

“No.” I shake my head. “I haven't for the longest time. Everyone kept saying that at some point my biological clock would kick in, but so far it hasn't. I think it's because from a very young age I was told that was my destiny in life.”

I sigh and look at the table. “I was always told I would be made to marry someone and have lots of heirs. I was also continuously bought dolls and pushed into playing with them even though I had no interest. I genuinely have a theory that if I'd been left to do my own thing, I might not feel this way. However, I always felt that I was being pushed in a direction I didn't want to go, and it made it something that I became truthfully almost phobic about.”

I continue to stare at the mug as if it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I don't often talk about this with people because I'm worried they'll think I'm strange, or perhaps cold and dead inside. Even though there are plenty of young women choosing not to have children these days, a lot of them due to the cost of living, which is bad enough when you're just an adult, never mind if you have a child support, I still feel judged for my feelings on the topic. Of course, with my family, I like to use it to annoy them. I don't really care what they think about me. Matteo, however, is a different matter.

“I also don't think I'd be a very good mother,” I say in a small voice. “My own wasn't the greatest, but it's left me more than a little messed up. I don't want to perpetuate that cycle, you know?”

“I don't think you would,” he says. “The simple fact that you're aware of all of this means that you'd be a better mother than yours was to you. I also don't think it's strange that you don't want children.”

“You don't?” I ask.

“No. I've never wanted children either. Not really. I mean, I love kids; they are great. I can't wait for my sister to visit with her massive brood, and I can spoil them rotten, but at the end of the day I’d prefer to give them back, you know?”

“That's how I've always felt. Except, so far my brother hasn't procreated. I thought I'd be this glamorous aunt, and instead I'm turning into some sort of sad old spinster.” “I don't think you can qualify as a sad old spinster before you even hit your late thirties.” He busies himself putting the toast onto separate plates and offering me a variety of toppings. I go full-on British and choose marmalade for my toast.

I bite into it, and the tart bitterness mixed with the sugar is divine. “I don't really understand why this isn't just called orange jam,” I say as I chew and swallow.

“Because it's different. Jam is made from the whole fruits, and marmalade is made only from the peel, and that's why it's so much tarter.”

“How do you know so much about it?” I ask with a giggle.

“One of my friends in college claims that his great-great-something-grandmother was the woman who invented it in Scotland. Or, at least, invented it in its modern form. I think he said that it came from Portugal originally, but then it was changed in Scotland and made into the recipe that we know today. So, there you go.”

I'm properly laughing now, and he's grinning too. “I'm glad to see that that college education wasn't a waste,” I say as the giggles overwhelm me again.

“I know; money well spent.”

“Going back to the previous discussion,” he says, taking me off guard.

Damn, I thought I had been saved by the toast.

“You'll never truly know how you feel about it until you're in love, which means you don't have to make a decision until then. If once you meet someone that you want to be with forever, then it's something to discuss.”

I think I might have met that person, but the thought terrifies me, and he’s a bastard and is playing me so boo-fucking-hoo for me. Life sucks. I almost want to cry and swallow it down, letting the rage in instead because that’s easier to handle.

“You said that you've never really wanted them though either,” I point out.

“I suppose I'm agnostic on the subject.” He gives me a wry grin. “It's one of those things that you shouldn’t really do unless you were passionate about it, you know? I can guarantee that I would never take having kids lightly. If I did it, I would do it with my whole heart.” His stare holds mine in that deep well of his, trapping me, unable to move as he watches me. “It's going to be exactly the same way when I marry again.”

I swallow and glance down at the toast, picking at it as I try to formulate a reply to that.

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