“I’d like that too.” I curl a leg up around him.
“Is it presumptuous to open that box of condoms now?” he asks with a cheeky grin.
“No. Not at all.”
He kisses my neck and moves on top of me. “So, we had sex,” he starts.
“We did? When?”
“Just now. You didn’t feel it?”
“Ohhh, that’s what that was.” I laugh, and he nibbles at my neck.
“What I mean is, we had sex without protection. I know you said you don’t think you can get pregnant, but…well…are you sure?”
“Yes. If you knock me up, it would be a miracle.”
“What do you mean?”
I let out a breath. “I don’t think I can have kids.” As soon as I say it out loud, I wish I could take it back. What if Wes wants another kid? Is that a deal-breaker? Thinking of him not wanting to be with me is like a stake through the heart.
“Why do you think that?”
“The last time I saw my OB, she said I only have one functioning ovary and my cycles are extremely random. Like I only have a few periods a year.”
“Oh.” Wes’s face is unreadable. He’s thinking, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking about. “I’m glad an unplanned pregnancy isn’t likely, but, uh, sorry? I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t either. But I really like how honest you are.” A twinge of guilt hits me. I’m honest with him now, and I plan to be from here on out. But I wasn’t, and thinking back to the woman I was when I stepped out of the car, remembering the disappointment I felt when I realized he wasn’t some rich asshole I could charm money out of…it makes me hate myself.
“Does that change how you feel about me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good.” I let my eyes fall shut and realize how fast my heart is beating. “Do you want more kids?”
“I don’t know. I used to. Coming from a big family, I thought I’d want that too. But things didn’t work out as I expected and I’m happy. Now more so than before. What about you?”
“I think I’ve always wanted kids,” I admit, not letting myself stop and think. “But I didn’t want to raise them in the same situation I was in when I grew up.”
“You’ve never mentioned your mom,” he says carefully. “Is she out of the picture?”
“Yes. She’s dead.”
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” I’m speaking my truths. Why stop now? “It sounds terrible, I know. But she was a terrible mother who had me young and should have given me up for adoption and gotten her tubes tied. She died of an overdose and I’m the one who found her. The worst part wasn’t her dying. It was having to tell my sister and brother.” My eyes fill with tears and all the emotions I’ve denied myself of feeling over the years come rushing back. “I dropped out of school to take care of them.” Hot tears roll down my cheeks. “I wasn’t able to go back to school until our dad came back.” I break off, choking up.
“It’s okay,” Wes soothes, gently wiping away my tears.
“But it’s not. You’re such a good person, Wes. I’m not. I’ve done so many things I wish I could take back. My life sucked but that’s no excuse. I could have done better. I should have. You need to know this if you want to be with me. That’s who I am. Scarlet Cooper: South Side trash with a dead mother, a sister in jail, and a father who poisoned his own brain with drugs and alcohol.”
“That doesn’t define you.”
“But that’s the thing.” More tears spill from my eyes. “Nothing defines me. I…I don’t know who I am.”
“You’re Scarlet Cooper,” he says slowly, looking right into my eyes. “A little quirky and a lot amazing. You like shifter romance and classic rock. A certain four-year-old who I happen to think is the coolest kid in the world really likes you.”
I smile.
“And I do too.”
“I’ve done bad things, Wes.” My jaw quivers and I want to tell him the truth as much as I don’t. I want to start fresh, confess everything.
Because I’m in love with Wes Dawson.
“It’s okay,” he says like he believes it. “It’s in the past.”
“But I still did them.”
His brows pinch together. “We live by going forward, not backward.” He wipes away a tear.
I sniffle, turning my head to the side to mop up my messy face. This is only part of the reason why I hate crying. “I wish I could see myself the way you see me.”
“You’d see how incredible you are.”
“Weston,” I start, ready to tell him everything. But he cuts me off with a kiss, and I give in, surrendering myself to him.* * *
“What’s your excuse this time?” Heather asks before she even sits down at the table. I haven’t seen her in a while, and I feel bad about it. But I’m here now, right? The last few weeks have passed in a whirlwind. A wonderful whirlwind, but they’ve been crazy nonetheless.