Confessions of a Bad Boy(65)

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I should have. That’s the father of my child. The guy I thought I…” I don’t say the word. I can feel the tears building up in my sinuses already, and I’m scared even thinking the word would open the gates.

“I know it seems bad right now, Jessie, but Nate isn’t the worst person on the planet.”

I freeze halfway through bringing the cup to my lips in order to glare at Lorelei.

“Isn’t he? The guy has been making videos about his sex life for years now. He spends half the time talking about techniques and positions – some of which I wouldn’t even think were possible if he hadn’t done them with me – and the other half of the time talking about marriage like it’s an Illuminati plot to castrate all men. And the worst part is that he did it even while we were together. I mean, who does that? What kind of guy would do that?”

Lorelei looks at me sympathetically before shrugging.

“I don’t know. I admit it’s kinda weird. But at the same time, it’s kinda not. So he played the field, never expected to commit, and did those videos. Maybe they were an ego-boost, maybe it was therapeutic for him – I don’t know. But something changed when he met you.”

“Pfft.”

“It did, Jessie. You can see it in his videos. And by the fact that he hasn’t spent the past few months picking up more girls in bars. He’s been coming here. To be with you.”

“It was just sex.”

“Was it? Do you really think so?”

I look at Lorelei and find that my breath is shuddering. It’s the hope that kills you. Is Lorelei trying to kill me?

“Still,” I say, shaking my head so hard my hair tosses against my face, “it’s f*cked up. Am I really going to raise a kid with a guy who makes videos about f*cking random women? I don’t think he wants to be part of a family.”

The doorbell rings and Lorelei gets up, holding her hand out to stop me from going.

“Well. It would certainly make the ‘birds and the bees’ talk a lot more interesting.”

I smile into my coffee cup. But not for long.

The voice at the door is too far to hear clearly, but I can tell from Lorelei’s concerned voice that it’s not good news. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my muscles stiffen, and I suddenly start wondering why our apartment doesn’t have a fire escape.

“Hold up!” Lorelei says, her voice getting louder. “Wait!”

Nate steps into the living room, the sight of him literally taking my breath away. Lorelei follows close behind and looks from him, to me, then shrugs.

“I need to talk to you, Jessie,” he says. “Please.”

I look from Lorelei back to Nate, then back to Lorelei, my mind doing flips. Too many emotions and thoughts flooding through me for me to act on any of them. Nobody tells you about the calm that comes when you reach critical mass, nobody tells you about the zen you get when you feel like it can’t get any worse. I place my coffee cup slowly down on the table and, still looking at it, say, “It’s okay, Lorelei. He’s right. We should talk.”





21





Jessie




Nate stands in the middle of the room, his eyes focused on me. I glance up at him, but it’s like looking at the sun – almost painful – and I quickly look down again at the spot where my coffee is.

“Um…” Lorelei mumbles awkwardly. “I’ll…I should go do a thing…that I have to do. I’ll leave you two alone.”

She leaves without either of us acknowledging her, and I keep my stare fixed on the coffee table. “So I guess you’re still mad at me,” Nate says, moving to the center of the room.

I raise my eyes to his, almost in a challenge.

“Give me a reason I shouldn’t be.”

Nate smiles.

“How about because I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, almost amazed at how easy Nate thinks this is.

“Sorries don’t change the past, Nate,” I say, standing abruptly and moving toward the window. “And they don’t change who we are.”

I turn back to find him staring at me with a frown on his face.

“What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’s nothing to be sorry about. It means that I’m not angry, not confused, not frustrated. Not anymore. I’m just disappointed.”

Nate clenches his jaw before talking.

“Jessie, I came to try and fix things between us. To admit that I f*cked up. To tell you that I know I was wrong and that I—”

“To ‘confess’?” I interrupt, studying Nate’s face for his reaction. When he barely flinches at the word, I smile – he’s one hell of a poker player. “About being a ‘bad boy’?” I say, driving the point home.

This time I watch the tiny changes in his expression, so subtle even I wouldn’t spot them if I hadn’t spent so much time looking into those eyes. I can almost see his thoughts play out, the instinctual desire to call my bluff, to try and talk his way out of it, the realization that it’s hopeless, the calculation of his best defense. It only takes a few seconds, but I see everything that’s there, and at the end of it all Nate laughs gently and looks at the floor like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.