There was nothing I could do. I wasn’t going to leave Michael. They told me they would come down here after the tour ended, but who knows whether or not they would stay. So, I’ve spent the last few days sitting idly on the couch, spending hours imagining Sophie with a baby.
There was no question of the blonde curls poking out when the baby grew; the bright blue or green eyes either. Surrounded by music, I’d be surprised if that kid grew up and didn’t fall in love with music. That kid would be a reader; they would sit still while Sophie brushed back their hair for the first day of school, smile as widely as humanly possible. They’d spend holidays at my house, hanging out with my kids...
Michael broke my thought process, rounding the coffee table and placing a cup of hot chocolate down next to me. “Do you want kids?”
I shake my head, and smile to myself, astounded at how he could read me so easily. Reaching out, I pick it up and blow at the surface, trying to cool the liquid. “At least take me on a date first.”
“No, no,” He blushes, gripping his cup tighter. His sweater is wrapped around his hands, making me fret that the cup could easily fall from his hands. “Not with me… not that I wouldn’t want kids with you… I just think you’d make a good mum.”
I scoff, smiling over at him. “When have you ever seen me with a child?”
He shrugs, looking down at his mug. “I’ve just seen the way you smile at little kids when you see them out with their mums. And you told me once, a while ago, you wanted kids.”
I bite my lip, I had always wanted kids. They way Michael blushed and got flustered when I implied having kids with him; I saw a little boy in a high chair giggling away. Big green tinted eyes and a lopsided grin that would match his fathers. Michael being a father…
“I do,” I nod. “A small herd of them would be nice.”
He chuckles, setting his cup down on the table. “There’d be a little army of ‘em. C'mere,” he opens his arms, motioning for me to come and cuddle up to him. My cup is placed on the table near his, giving my the ability to scoot down the couch and lean into his chest. Michael’s arms wrap around my waist; my head resting on his shoulder.
There was a pause as we both pondered the idea of kids. I’m not sure if I saw Mikey and I having kids together, I saw us together at holidays; family gatherings, but everyday after school, kissing each other goodbye and hello…
“Would you ever want that with me?” He nudges me slightly, automatically placing a grin on my face.
“Want what? A family?”
He pauses a moment. “Yeah,”
I let my eyes flutter shut, grasping his shirt in my fist. “Why would you want to have kids with me?”
“Well,” I hear the smile in his voice as the sarcasm began to seep. “I’m pretty sure I love you. And I would like to see a couple Michael Jr.’s running around one day.”
I chuckle, “We would not be naming any of our kids Michael Jr.”
He squeezes me around the waist. “Is that a yes?”
I sigh, shaking my head. I see myself packing lunches at the counter in the kitchen, but I can’t imagine waiting for Michael to get home. I can’t see him wrapping his arms around my waist as I stand there. I see him reading bedtime stories and singing kids to sleep, just not mine. I thoughts surge as I think over this. “Michael, we haven’t even had a real, proper kiss yet.”
“We can fix that.” His arms tense around me.
I rest my head back, closing my eyes again. “Not right now, Michael.”
Michael would stand in the room, nearly hyperventilating, as I delivered my first child. He would be there when I showed up at wedding showers for Sophie and Callie and Emma. We might share a tight smile from across the room and then stand our respective distances.
“Michael,” I bite at my lip, trying to consider how to phrase this. “Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want...me?”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute and I can’t help but fill the space. “I mean, you’d have to be with me for the rest of your life. You’d have to take care of me when I get sick and when I get drunk and when I’m at my worst. you haven’t even seen me at my worst. What happens if you don’t want to be with me anymore? What happens if you wake up one day and we have three kids and a home and you decide you don’t love me anymore? I can’t promise you that, Michael. I can barely promise myself-”
“We’ll take it one day at a time.” Michael whispers in my ear. He rubs his palm up and down my arm, leaning his forehead against my shoulder. “I won’t hurt you like that, Anna.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Anna,” He sighs. “Listen, we don’t have to do anything. But if you don’t love me, you’ve got to tell me. You don’t have to go through with something if you don’t want to.”
I could hear his breath catch, knowing the words must have felt like daggers escaping him. And suddenly, I felt my throat close up. Would I have this same feeling as I looked over his casket at the end of his life? What would I think to see his wife in the crowd and know that I was the one that could have been wearing that ring? I’d see his kids and they’d call me ‘aunty’ when they should have called me ‘mommy’. I’d kiss a stranger goodbye in the morning when I had my best friend with his arms wrapped around me here now.
I probably wouldn’t get married. I might adopt. But it wouldn’t fill the fact that I let go of everything I knew I wanted. I can’t let go of him.
I sit forward, my head resting in my hands. My feet rest on the floor. Michael sits up behind me, placing a hand on my back, whispering something about how I was feeling. I can’t push him away. I need him so much.
“No,” I shake my head, clenching my eyes together as I gather the vowels I never could have imagined. “I’m not okay.” He needs to be happy. “I really think…” I take a deep breath. I sit back again, turning to face Michael. My fingers intertwine in his as I look at him. “I really think I might be in love with you… and honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”
Michael spreads a small smile across his lips, tightening his grip on my hand and shrugging. “It’s alright, you don’t have to know what the rest of your life is going to be like right now,” His smile attempt to spread, leading into his next phrase. “But if that’s how you feel right now, then I can honestly say I love you too.”
I smile, feeling potential tears form. Shrugging, I whisper, “What do we do?”
He shakes his head. “We fall in love together, I guess.”
“That sounds like a plan.” I nod.
Michael leans forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek. He follows it by pressing a kiss lightly to my lips. I return it, kissing him and letting my hands reach up into his hair. I grip at the ends, pulling him closer as my chest presses against his.
This is the first kiss we’ve shared that feels as if we weren’t lonely or drunk, waiting for someone, anyone, to save us from our fear of emptiness. I poured out all the fears I had and he could finally show me how much he loved me without having to be afraid. We were finally each others.
I can’t let myself think of everything we were. We are going to be something so much greater; together. As my lips part slightly, Michael grips at the small of my back, holding on to me as if he wasn’t ever going to let go. All the fear I had needs to dissipate, and although it may take longer than a few weeks; months, years, I know he’ll be willing to wait.
“Mikey,” I breathe, giving him the opportunity to start kissing down my neck. “Michael, make love to me.”
He kisses my collarbone, pausing before he lifts the edges of my shirt over my stomach and then over my head. “I love you, Anna.”
I watch him as he leans over me, causing me to fall back into the couch cushions. “I love you too, Michael.”
His hand eases up the side of my waist, his lips tracing lines over my collar bones and shoulders. He leaves marks at the curve of my neck while my fingers brush past the waistband of his jeans. I work at the buttons while he brings moans to the edges of my lips.
Michael pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, sending it over the side of the couch in hurry. His hips come down to rock back and forth against mine. One of my hands returns to his hair as the other rakes down his back, leaving light scratches in their wake. I bring my hips up to meet his, groaning lightly in his ear.
My sweatpants slide down at his touch. He hooks his fingers through the waistband and brings them to my ankles, pulling them off completely and whipping them over towards our shirts. He attempts to lean over me again, barely finding a comfortable position.
I chuckle at him, raising up to kiss him lightly. “Bed?”
He groans, nodding slightly. He shifts off of me, swinging an arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders before I could protest. Michael carries my bridal style down the hall, barely missing the walls as he leads us through the door. He kicks it closed behind him, as if we needed to separate ourselves from the rest of the world for a while.
Michael sets me down on the bed and I push myself back so I can rest against his pillows. While I do this, he stands at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and teasingly pushing them down his legs. He steps out of them, flashing me a grin as he crawls across the bed towards me.
“Stop it,” I chuckle, hiding my face behind my hands for a seconds before he pulls them away.
“What?” He chuckles back at me, pulling my hands against his chest. “What am I doing?”
I giggle, blushing a furious shade of pink. “You’re making me really nervous.” My hand runs down over his chest, sliding against the curvatures that I had fallen in love with.
He chuckles; his smile spreading as he flips us so I was straddling him. “And this,” his hands grip at my hips, “Doesn’t make me nervous?” He leans up to kiss me quickly before resting back down.
Instead of responding, I bite my lip, rocking my hips over him. He groans, his head tilting back to fall deeply into the pillows. My hips shift back and forth, creating a friction that pleasured both of us. I fell into the motion of it, nearly prepared to get off to just the feeling of him getting hard under me.
I sit up onto my knees, noticing how his head snapped up as the feeling stopped. “Don’t be so eager,” I grinned, reaching back to unhook my bra. “We’ve got all night.”
The hooks snap open, allowing me to push the restriction off my shoulders and throw it onto the floor. Michael’s gaze follows my chest, his breath staggering as he watched me. I smiled, moving to stand above him. The weight shifted on the bed, nearly making me fall over a few times, but I situated myself so my back faced him. I lean over as I pulled my underwear down my legs. I could hear his breathing catch as I kicked them off and slowly swayed my hips.
Michael seemed paralyzed as I turned to face him again, resting a foot gently on his chest. “Are you going to play nice?”
He nodded furiously and I was afraid his head might snap. My grin followed, leaning back down to straddle him. “Good.”
It barely took him a moment to take control again, flipping me over so I was underneath him. His lips pressed against mine, his hands reaching to grab at every bit of me he could. I grasped at his hair, tugging gently as I pressed my body up into his.
He pulls back, staring at me a minute before I started to squirm out of the loss of sensation. “How did I get so damn lucky?”
I rolled my eyes up at him, not being to help the smile playing at my lips. “Luck.”
He sighed, smiling brightly as he pushes his boxers down. “You’re such a smartass.”
We chuckled at each other as I wondered whether what I had said made any sense. It didn’t seem to matter, Michael had kicked his boxers off as he shifted his weight back over me. He let his tip slip against my entrance, teasing me and sending shivers up my spine.
“Fuck, Michael,” I grunted as I thrusted forward, easing him into me.
He flashes a grin, peering down at me momentarily, “What happened to taking it slow?”
“Fuck it,” I answer too quickly.
He chuckles, taking the moment to push into me. Michael gives me a moment to adjust before building up a pace. He latches his hands behind my shoulders, bringing me forward into deep thrusts every time. Moans tumble from my lips, mixing with the sound of Michael’s heavy breathing.
I never understood how people could tell another person they loved them as they had sex. It didn’t make sense, I always believed they were just in love with the sex itself, how could they be able to admit something like that when all their thoughts are clouded? But as the words tumbled from my lips, over and over as I brushed my lips against Michael’s skin, I knew I meant it in every possible way.
I had fallen in love with the way he would chuckle before he kissed me, the horrible hot chocolate he tried to make me and the way he burned nearly everything he tried to cook. I had fallen in love with his look of concentration as he played with chords on his guitar or hummed when he brushed his teeth. I fell in love with his smile and his stubborn exterior. I fell in love with the way his hands felt in mine and I fell in love with the feeling he gave me when he looked in my eyes. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Anna.” He whispered, kissing me quickly as he quickened the pace.
I still don’t understand how I had fallen for him so quickly and so fully. Maybe I never would understand. As long as he loved me, it didn’t really matter.