Aced

Wow. Well I guess he’s bringing out the deep confessions now. I so did not expect that comment from him. It knocks me back a second while I wrap my head around it. Does he mean in all aspects of life or just with the baby coming? I wonder what it is he thinks I need that he’s not giving me.

Doubt is the chisel that causes the fissures to drive a solid relationship apart, and I hate he feels like I have any when it comes to him.

“Colton,” I begin to say, breaking my own rules, because I have to tell him he’s more than man enough in all aspects for me, but he reaches out and puts a finger to my lips.

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head. “Your turn.”

And I just stare, desperately wanting to tell him he’s so very off base to worry about that and yet I don’t. Can’t. I need to allow him to say what he needs to say. I blow out a breath in frustration and discomfort because we may know each other inside and out, yet this is more soul-bearing than anything we have done in such a long time, and as cathartic as it may be, it’s also scary as hell.

“I’m afraid you won’t find me sexy anymore after I have the baby.”

He may not speak, but his head shakes back and forth to tell me I’m crazy. “I’m afraid that every time you look at me, you think you’ve made a mistake in marrying me.”

Is he crazy? His words stab my heart. It’s so unbelievable the world sees Colton as an arrogant, self-assured man. Yet with me—especially right here, right now—he reveals the insecurity all people have but keep close to the vest.

“I’m afraid you are going to pull away when the baby is born,” I say without thinking and realize that my deepest fear has been spoken out loud. The quick hitch in Colton’s breath tells me without him saying a word that he fears the same thing. I panic momentarily, fear lodging in my throat. I know I need to fix this somehow so I keep talking like I was going to finish the sentence, “. . . but need you to know that I can’t do this without you.”

Silence settles between us. Our eyes lock. My heart hopes he really hears what I’m saying. “I’m afraid that I’m going to panic in the delivery room, see things I can’t unsee, or not be able to handle watching you in pain.”

And hearing him say something so many men fear makes me feel better. Like we’re normal in a sense when our relationship and everything surrounding us is far from it.

“I’m afraid of labor.” Who wouldn’t be? The unknown pain and the absolute unexpected followed by the beautiful ending. Colton just raises his eyebrows and nods his head.

“I’m afraid I’m going to be like them,” he says, the term them unmistakable in its meaning: his mother and father. His eyes burn into mine, and it kills me that he has even put himself in the same category as them. Yes, their genes run through him but that doesn’t mean his heart isn’t different.

Blood makes the body, not the man.

“I’m scared I’m going to make too many mistakes as a mother.”

Colton rolls his eyes, prompting me to reach out and wipe his hair off his forehead. He grabs my wrist and brings the palm of my hand to his lips and presses a sweet kiss to the center of it before bringing it down to rest over his heart. “I’m sure I’m going to make way more mistakes as a father but I know that with you by my side, our baby will grow into an incredible human being . . . just like his mother.” He whispers the last words, causing tears to sting my eyes, which is in complete contradiction to the soft smile on my lips from the way he changed his confession to make it a positive.

I should have known he’d find a way to make me feel better about my fears by skating under the radar and breaking the rules without actually breaking them.

“I’m sure BIRT will have your green eyes, your stubborn streak, and your incredible capacity to love,” I say as Colton clears his throat. His fingers tighten over mine on his chest. I know he wants to refute my comment, the one I put out there to try to lessen his fear about him being like his biological parents, but he doesn’t.

And that’s a good sign because hopefully if I say it enough, he’ll eventually start to believe it.

“I’m afraid that everything was going so well for us. But first it was the video . . . and now . . .” he blows out a breath and I try to figure out what’s eating at him, “now . . . the other shoe is going to drop.”

I stare at him, so perfectly imperfect and full of fear just like I am, and yet he walked in here tonight and gave me a gift most husbands would never even think of. Yet he still doubts us, still worries the other shit will affect us when all we need is each other.

All we’ve ever needed is each other.

“I’m certain that even if the other shoe drops, it’ll be off an octopus with a lot of shoes so we’ll be able to handle it, because I married the only man ever meant for me. We can handle anything that comes our way, shoe by dropping shoe.”

Colton just falls onto his back and starts laughing, deep and long. I can tell he needed something humorous to release the stress clawing him apart from the inside out. I find comfort I can use a game I invented for little boys and still affect the grown man in my life.

Then again, boys, men, they’re really no different from the other.

After a moment he rolls back onto his side and scoots up against me so my belly hits his. He cradles my face in his hands. “Octopus shoes?” He laughs again with a lift of his eyebrows and a flash of that irresistible dimple.

“Yep. They’ve got eight feet. Lots of shoes to drop,” I tease, wanting to keep the moment now that our hearts are a bit lighter.