I've been thinking a lot lately about the timing of when Chris and I got together.
4 whole years ago. It feels like a decade ago.
I look at August now and I see so much of Chris. Not only in his mannerisms, but in his face. I've always wondered, but now I need to know.
When August was conceived I was barely even seeing Peter, let alone having sex with him. Every now and then sure, but it was more out of obligation than want. But Chris and I, we were still having sex anywhere, everywhere, and all the time. In our dressing rooms, on set after work, the bathroom, all over the place all the time.
It's more than likely that August is Chris's biological son. He's always known it was a possibility, and so have I. Before, when we were both still married, we barely said anything about it, he mentioned it once.
He had asked me how the baby was doing a couple weeks after August was born.
"How's our boy?" He had asked me.
"Our boy?..." I had stuttered incoherently.
"Mariska..." He had said kindly, "We've been having sex for a year and a half without a single condom, I know you've been on the pill but you are married to a german man with brown eyes and you have deep brown eyes and I'm staring down at your brand new baby who has crystal blue eyes."
And that was it. All he ever said about it. And for the last 2 1/2 years I've been grateful for that. But I need to know. Not that it changes anything, but I need to know whether or not Chris is the one who fathered August.
August still has perfect blue eyes.
I'm looking at all of our photo albums. Chris is in the shower.
Baby pictures of me, Chris, August, and Bethany.
Bethany and August are almost identical. But August and Chris, the only difference being the age of the pictures. Maybe this is just my brain tricking itself. Maybe I just want to see the similarity so badly that I'm making it all up.
He comes out of our bedroom with only a towel hanging loosely off his waist.
"No." I say, pointing back to the bedroom.
"What?!" He asks innocently.
"Turn your ass around and go put on some clothing." I say shaking my head.
"What's wrong with this?" He asks gesturing toward the towel that's slowly slipping lower on his waist.
"Whats wrong with that?" I repeat, "What's wrong with all of that is I'm not aloud to let you fuck me senseless for two weeks, so you need to put all that away, before we make a mistake."
He groans and walks into the hallway before pulling the towel completely off.
He gives me the perfect view of his naked ass as he adds a little more strut to his walk.
He comes back out in boxers and a white t-shirt with a grin on his face.
He sits down next to me, putting his hand on my thigh.
"What are you doing with all these old pictures?" He asks with a chuckle.
"Just looking..." I say softly.
He stares at the four pictures that are lined up together in front of me.
A picture of me, a picture of him, a picture of August, and a picture of Bethany all when we were less than a month old.
"What the hell is going through your head right now?" He asks, pulling me completely into his lap.
I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes.
