Until Trevor (Until, #2)(44)
“Why is it that every time someone talks about kids, you panic?”
I sit up; I knew this day was coming. “I told you before, I don’t want kids.”
“I want kids, Liz, and I know that you do too. I see the longing in your face anytime you hold July, or even when you met Kara and noticed she was pregnant.”
I do want them; deep down there is nothing I want more then to be a mother. But I can’t do it; I can’t have children, and then leave them behind. “I told you before, Trevor, that if that was a deal breaker for you, then you should get out before feelings were involved.”
“Tell me that you never want kids.”
‘I…” I can’t say it; the words just won’t come out.
“We are going to make beautiful babies, and you are going to be an awesome mom,” he says, kissing the top of my head. My stomach is in knots, my palms sweating. I want to tell him so badly that I don’t want kids, but I can’t. When I think about having a little boy, with big brown eyes and long dark lashes, who looks just like Trevor, I can’t tell him that I don’t want that. I lay my head back on his shoulder, clearing my mind of everything except the alcohol coursing through my system. When we finally pull up to the house, I go straight to the bathroom, change into pajamas, and get into bed. When I’m almost asleep, Trevor gets into bed, tucking me under him like he always does. I feel him kiss the top of my head, and hear him tell me he loves me, right before I fall asleep.
*~*~*
“Tell me again why I have to wear a blindfold?” I ask Trevor, who is carrying me somewhere. I had gotten up this morning, alone in the house. At first, I thought he was mad about last night and decided to cut his losses, but then I wandered into the kitchen and there was a pot of coffee waiting for me, along with a note telling me that he had gone for a run. I was on my second cup of coffee when he came into the house, his white t-shirt plastered to his body with sweat. He was pulling it off as he walked into the kitchen, without realizing that I was there, unaware that he was putting on a show.
I watched as he wiped his head, face, and then his chest without looking up. His baggy sweats hung so low on his hips that if you pulled down slightly, you would get the full experience of Trevor Mayson. When he lifted his head and his eyes caught mine, he smirked. Walking towards me, he kissed my forehead, and went to the laundry room, where I could hear him banging around, most likely destroying some innocent piece of clothing. The other day, he called and asked me if he could wash towels with other laundry. I told him yes, thinking he would know to still separate the dark and lights. Oh, was I wrong. He washed a red towel with the white laundry, turning all the white t-shirts he wears to work a nice light pink.
“Morning,” he said, walking back into the kitchen.
“Morning,” I replied, looking at his abs as he moved around, pulling things from the cupboards. I had no idea what kind of work went into looking like he does, but seriously, I loved looking at him.
“Stop looking at me like that, you little pervert,” he said, laughing and making my face heat.
“Stop walking around half naked,” I mumbled into my coffee cup, still looking over the rim at his body.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I like that look.” He kissed my head. “We need to leave in about an hour; be ready to go,” he told me, leaning against the counter to eat a bowl of cereal.
I glared at him, but agreed with an “okay.” I grabbed a banana off the counter. Peeling it, I slid it into my mouth, looking at him, watching his eyes darken, and then I took a big bite, and made sure that my teeth made a loud chomping sound.
“Ouch!” he laughed, covering himself with his hand. I smirked at him over my shoulder, walking out of the kitchen.
“Yes, you need the blindfold,” he tells me, bringing me back to the present. He’s holding me closer. I know we’re outside; I can smell flowers and feel the sun beating down on me. “I’m going to stand you up now,” he says, lowering me to the ground. I hold onto his shoulders, and as my feet touch the ground, my stomach fills with butterflies, and my pulse kicks up. “This is our first stop,” he tells me, taking off my blindfold. I look around seeing that we’re in the cemetery where my father is buried. My stomach drops when I look down at my dad’s grave.
“Why are we here?” I ask, looking at Trevor, who is now looking nervous.
“I wanted to meet him. You don’t talk to me about him very often, and I know that he was important to you.”
I nod in agreement. “He was my best friend,” I tell him, looking at my dad’s headstone. “No matter what happened, I knew that I could talk to him about anything, and he would listen. Or if I had a problem, he would help me find a solution.”
“He sounds like he was a good man,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.
“He was the best; he would have liked you,” I reply, and tears start falling from my eyes.
“I would have liked him too.” He holds my face in his hands, kissing each eye. “He’s one of the reasons why you are so beautiful on the inside, along with the outside. He’s one of the reasons I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”
I sob, my head crashing into his chest; he holds me for a long time, just standing outside with the breeze blowing, and the sun beating down on us. When I finally calm down, he asks me to go wait in the truck, and says that he would be with me in a few minutes. I kneel down on the ground in front of my dad’s headstone and send him a silent message telling him that I am happy, and that I love and miss him. Then I stand up, kiss Trevor, and walk back to the truck to wait for him.