“So you were going to never let the child . . . our baby, have a father in the first place?” I ask. “I understand your fears, Tessa, but that doesn’t make much sense.”
“I don’t think I could take it if you left me, left us. I figured it was safer for me, for my emotions, to just . . . well, just to run away from it all.” Tessa has stopped crying but she’s shivering a little in my arms. I hold her close still, not wanting to end the embrace.
“That will never happen, Tessa. I want you, and only you. I need you. Now that you’re in my life, I can’t imagine being without you. I want us to raise our child together. I . . . I’ve always wanted what my parents have, the strong, lasting relationship. And I want it with you.”
She leans back, and I brush her hair, now wet and sticky with tears, from her face. As she looks up into my eyes, a flush fills her cheeks.
We sit in silence for a while, our eyes speaking everything that needs to be said, hope filling my chest and expanding until it’s a struggle to breathe.
Without any conscious effort, we inch closer and closer until I can feel her hot, sweet breath on my skin.
I lean forward slowly, bringing her mouth to meet mine, kissing her deeply on the lips, the touch passionate but tender.
Tessa sighs with pleasure as I taste her sweet lips and puts her hands on my shoulders, kissing me back with emotion.
“I love you, Tessa,” I say into her mouth as I rest my forehead against hers.
Pulling back just enough to fill my vision with her lovely face, I stare into her beautiful eyes. They widen at my words, then she smiles warmly up at me.
“I love you too, Luke,” she says softly before she lets herself melt into my arms.
A warmth spreads within me as we kiss and embrace, a contentment that I’ve never felt before.
A while later, we are lying in Tessa’s bed, exhausted from all the talking, although neither of us wants this moment following our reconciliation to end.
Tessa rests her head on my chest. Her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling contentedly. Her skin has warmed up in my embrace.
I feel the stirring of sexual desire, but feel too exhausted and emotionally drained to act upon it. I figure she feels the same way, too.
Tessa seems to have finally come round to the fact that I didn’t ever intend to abandon her and our baby, and I’d be by her side, devoting my life to make her happy.
We lie there in comfortable silence for a long while, Tessa’s breathing deep and regular. I figure she’s fallen asleep and close my eyes, waves of exhaustion rolling over me.
She murmurs a few words, rousing herself from her doze. “Have you ever thought about baby names?”
“Hmmm . . . I haven’t really had the chance to.” I’m glad she’s still awake, and we talk again, voices low and gentle.
Truth be told, I’d been so caught up the situation, the anger and resentment, followed by my decision to try and get her back, that I hadn’t put any thought into it.
We bounce a few names off of each other as we lie there, eyes closed. Then Tessa stops responding, and I look down to see that she has truly fallen asleep this time. She’s still smiling, looking relaxed and content as she sleeps on my chest, one arm draped over my waist.
She twitches a little in her sleep, and I rub her arm. I hope she’s not having a bad dream. I brush a stray lock of hair from her face.
Happiness fills me to the point of almost bursting. I feel complete with Tessa beside me, almost like I’ve been absent a part of me up until now, and she’s the missing piece.
I start to drift off into sleep, exhaustion finally getting the better of me.
No matter what, I’ll never let go. She is mine. Forever.
Tessa
I wake up the next morning—and I have to check the date on my phone because it’s kind of hard to believe. We must have both been so physically and emotionally drained after everything that’s happened that we slept right through the afternoon and night.
Sun rays filter through my thin, cheap curtains, bathing my apartment with a soft, warm, surreal glow.
Was it all real, or just a dream? It kind of doesn’t seem real, but my imagination can’t possibly dream up this level of detail: Luke’s breaths tickling my skin, the blunt tips of the scruff lining his strong jaw, the weight of his arm around me.
It’s almost unbelievable that everything worked out so perfectly, that Luke was willing to forgive me, and that I could finally accept that I want to be with him.