Page 71 of Dallas

There is actual insecurity in that, and she’s throwing some barbs at me, maybe to put some distance between us. I get it. I was lost in the moment there for a second, but the reality of the whole situation isn’t… Not scary.

“I told you. I do. I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve never cheated on anybody. I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve never tried to, not really.”

“Because you don’t want one?” she asks.

“No. I do. Someday. Look at my family. They’re great.” I let out a sigh. “Are we just going to stand here talking about this while I still have a condom on my dick?”

She looks down, her cheeks turning an even brighter pink.

“I don’t know. You’re the one standing there.”

“Sarah,” I say. “Behave yourself. I walk past her, and go into the bathroom, discarding the condom before coming back out. She’s standing in the bedroom doorway.

“Get in bed,” I say.

She lifts her chin, looks at me mulishly. “I’m not tired.”

“You’re such a brat.”

So I walk over to her, then down, pressing my shoulder against her rib cage as I lift her up off the ground, draped over my shoulder.

“Hey!”

Then I flip her over onto her back, depositing her firmly at the center of the mattress. “If you want to fight with me, get it out. Let’s do it then. If you want to put distance between us, go right the fuck ahead. Scratch me, little cat. See what you get back.”

She frowns, and I swear, if she were a cat, her claws would be out. “I’m not picking a fight.”

“You are. I know you. You’re pushing at me, because… this scares you.”

“I’m not scared.” She’s scowling at me ferociously. “I fucked you twice.”

“No. I don’t think you’re scared of my penis. I think you’re scared of everything else.” I sigh heavily, coming down next to her on the mattress. “I’m notnotscared of it. I don’t know how to do this, Sarah. I figured I would meet somebody, maybe in ten years. Think about settling down.”

She looks offended. “So there’s some mythical woman out there who’s good enough for you?”

“I have a mythical idea in my head about a family. Something that’s like what my dad has. Yeah. That’s true. I’ve always thought that I would… No. Not always. Since I was eighteen or so. I figured I would do the family thing. Wife and kids and all of that. But you know, someday. When I feel ready.”

“I’m twenty-one,” she points out, like I didn’t just give her a party in a saloon.

“I know,” I say. “And you need to go to school. You need to figure yourself out.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I do.”

“This is a mess,” I say. “You came to me because you were in distress, and that’s not a great start to anything. How long have you been in fight or flight?” I ask, reaching out and wrapping a tendril of hair around my finger.

“Every day for as long as I can remember,” she whispers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. “I promise. This doesn’t change what we are.”

“What are we?” she asks, her dark eyes searching mine for assurance I don’t know I can give her.

“Just the most important people in each other’s lives. Just…”

I want to say everything. But I also don’t quite know where to push and where not to. I don’t want to scare her away. I also don’t want to make a mistake and promise something that I can’t deliver. Because thinking about a wife, kids, family, in some theoretical future way off in the distance doesn’t feel scary.

Because the woman isn’t real, the kids aren’t real.

Right now I’m actually staring at the one woman I thinkI would want to marry, knowing how badly she’s been her, knowing how high the stakes are for me to be the best husband to her… That makes it feel like a totally different thing. It makes it feel like something I might not have the wherewithal to accomplish. Not because I don’t want to, but because…

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