Page 46 of Ms. Lead

“I brought you back to bed, so you could sleep more comfortably. So, please—”

“You carried…? Oliver, what if you dropped me?” She still looks more confused than anything else. At least it’s not anger.

I stare at her, not sure if she’s serious or being facetious. Could she be mocking me and my concerns about holding a child? I can’t read her to tell.

“I didn’t drop you,” I say, keeping my relief at that point to myself.

She stares back at me, and I’m not sure what is happening right now. Are we arguing? Are we making up? Were we ever fighting?

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, shaking her head. Her words are choked as tears start to run down her cheeks. She’s quick to wipe them away with the tissue in her hand before I can even think to move to do it.

I gape at her. Shocked.

“Bianca, you have nothing to be sorry about. It was an accident.” I reach up and catch a few tears that are still falling. “Neither of us is at fault.”

“Yeah, but you’re so dead set against having children. I didn’t want you to think I would do that to you on purpose because I would never do such a thing. I wanted to make sure you saw me take it because you didn’t see me take my regular birth control pill this—”

“Stop. Bianca. It’s fine. It’s over with. We’ve dealt with it, and it’s done.” Her words beat at my guilt, already down for the count. “And I would never think that of you. Get that straight out of your head.”

“But—”

I grab her chin, forcing her to stop spiraling and look at me. She needs to stop beating herself up over this. I keep my tone clear and deliberate.

“It was an accident. Nothing more. Okay?”

She searches my eyes and must find the truth there because she nods and curls back into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I pull her close again, praying we can get through this.

I can’t believe she thought I would be so cruel. Have I really been that cold? Or given her reason at all to think that of me?

I took a backseat to this entire thing to let her do whatever she wanted about the situation. I trusted her implicitly. I didn’t realize that being so hands-off painted me as blaming her or not caring.

This may be another sign that I am not cut out for a relationship. If I can’t handle something like this correctly, then I have no business being with someone. The pain on Bianca’s face just now is all the proof anyone would need to make that decision. I have clearly failed her.

I have just over a week left in America. What the hell are we going to do once I leave? I don’t believe that a long-distance relationship can work. Honestly, if neither of us is willing to go to be with the other person, there is no point. We can’t stay an ocean apart from each other forever. And there is no in-between.

I’ve been doing everything in my power not to even think about what’s next. To do so would acknowledge that there is an ‘after’ to the time I’m here. I don’t want to face that yet. There’s only now, and I’ve been screwing that up left and right.

* * *

I fall asleep with Bianca in my arms, and when I wake up with her still there, it’s like a punch in the gut. That is not the ecstatic reaction that I expected of myself. Instead, I’m hit with the same thoughts that I fell asleep to, thoughts of being without her after this upcoming weekend. Thoughts of leaving her behind. Leaving forever. My jaw clenches as I grind my teeth, thinking about it. I don’t want to face it yet.

I wrap my arms tighter around her, trying to capture everything I can about her in my memory for good. The smell of her shampoo, the smoothness of her skin, the taste of her kisses, how she sneaks looks at me while listening to her dirty audiobooks when she thinks I don’t notice, her soft little snore when she’s deep in sleep, and how she grabs onto me while she’s sleeping too, without even knowing she’s doing it like she’s doing right now.

All of these little things add up to a big thing. A big thing that can’t happen. I think I knew it when I started this, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I thought I could spend time with Bianca, and in the end, I could just walk away. I’m not sure I can do that now.

The following morning, we head back to Vegas without another word about what happened on the boat and afterward. It’s been erased from our collective memory for the time being. However, thoughts of how incredible the sex was on the boat are never far from my thoughts. It feels shameful to even think it, but it’s true.

Being with Bianca that evening went beyond a physical connection. I can’t even put a name to it because I’ve never experienced it before. And it was so brief, if I’d blinked I would have missed it. But I didn’t miss it, and it will haunt me.

I will be chasing that feeling for the rest of my life, like a drug addict chasing their high. For me, that was a once-in-a-lifetime feeling that won’t ever come my way again.

In the middle of the week, we’re invited to Normandy and Brandon’s house again for dinner, and I’m surprised by another guest of theirs, Max Calnetta. He has been in hiding since testifying against his father and brother a couple of years ago and is only in town for a few hours to prevent being found. The more prominent Mamana crime family that used to own the Bliss Casino where I’m staying allegedly has a standing bounty out on his head.

He's agreed to speak with me for my book and arranged with the Carmichaels to be here secretly. I notice right away that the kids aren’t here this evening. Probably a smart move, but if things are that bad, I would have been more comfortable not doing this in their home, either.

Seeing as I didn’t have any say in this arrangement, I’ll take what I can get. I just wish I had my notes with me. I’ll have to wrestle with my faulty memory to get through this.

About half an hour into my conversation with Max, I find myself distracted, watching Bianca talk to Normandy in the kitchen. The window in the office we’re in gives a perfect vantage point. I’m not bothered at all by all of the security currently circulating, but I would be mesmerized by that dark hair anywhere. She’s wearing it pinned up today. She’s been doing that the last several days, keeping her appearance strictly professional and begging off in the evening with a supposed list of errands or feigned exhaustion.

---