This Man Confessed

‘Is everything okay?’ She assesses us both, then looks to Jesse for an answer, but he just hands me my bag and nods towards the stairs. I look at him, silently begging for some words. He doesn’t indulge me. He nods again.

‘Boy?’ Cathy prompts warily.

‘Everything is fine. Ava’s not feeling too well.’ He lightly pushes into my back with his hand, urging me forward.

‘Are you coming?’ I ask.

‘I’ll be up in a minute. Go.’ He reinforces his words with a firmer push of his hand, and I leave him with Cathy.

As I’m passing Jesse’s sweet housekeeper, she reaches out and gently strokes my shoulder, giving me a small smile. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Ava.’

I return her smile. It’s a feeble smile. I feel uncertain and a little concerned by Jesse’s despondent state. ‘Thank you.’ I make my way upstairs, entering the master-suite and settling on the end of the bed.

Not knowing what to do, I kick my shoes off and shuffle myself up the bed a little more. My eyes are brimming with tears again as I clutch my knees to my chest and wait for him. I know that right now is when we’ll talk about this, now we have both acknowledged what is happening; but in order to have a talk, both of us need to be speaking, and Jesse doesn’t look like he plans on saying anything. I have no idea what is going through that crazy mind of his and the strained atmosphere is pushing doubts back into me. I need reassurance, not silence, not time to talk my way back out of this.

My head snaps up when he enters the bedroom, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he goes straight to the bathroom. I hear the waterfall tap of the bath start pouring and the faffing of his movements as he follows through on his usual bath time routine, collecting everything he’ll need and placing it within reach. We’re having a bath?

After way too long of me just sitting on the bed, listening to the water running and Jesse’s quiet activities, he eventually walks soundlessly into the bedroom and approaches me without a word. Taking my hand and pulling me up from the bed, he strips me down, removes my diamond and my Rolex, for which I haven’t even thanked him, before picking me up and carrying me into the bathroom.

He lowers me gently into the bath. ‘Is the water okay?’ he asks softly, releasing me and kneeling by the side of the tub.

‘It’s fine,’ I answer, watching as he removes his suit jacket and unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt before pushing them up his arms. He collects the sponge and dips, then squeezes some soap on it and turns me away from him. He starts gliding it across my back in gentle, steady strokes.

I’m a little confused. ‘Aren’t you getting in?’ I ask quietly. I want him to lay behind me so I can feel him, take comfort in him. I need that.

‘Let me look after you.’ His voice is low and unsure. I don’t like it.

I turn myself around to face him, finding glazed green eyes and a stoic expression. It pulls at my heart. I’ve really f**ked with his mind this time. ‘I need you closer than this.’ I reach up with my wet hand and lay my palm on his cheek. ‘Please,’

He watches me carefully for a few moments, like he’s deciding whether he should, but he eventually sighs and drops the sponge, before he stands and slowly removes his clothes. Stepping in behind me, he lowers himself to cocoon me completely. I feel immediately better with his warm hardness cradling me, but I can’t see him, so I turn over and sit on his lap, encouraging his knees up so I can lean back and look at him. I take his hands and interlace our fingers, and we both watch in silence as we play with each other’s hands, our tangled fingers glimmering now and then when our rings catch the reflections of the water. It’s not a difficult silence anymore.

‘Why did you lie to me, Ava?’ he whispers, still watching our snaking fingers working together.

My movements falter for a few moments but don’t stop completely. It’s a question that I predicted and it’s one that needs answering. ‘I was scared. I’m still scared.’ It’s nothing but the truth, and he needs to hear it. He needs to know that this whole situation terrifies me.

‘Of me,’ he says simply. ‘You’re scared of me.’ He doesn’t elaborate, and he doesn’t need to. I know what he means, and he knows that, too.

‘I’m scared of how you’ll be.’

‘You mean more crazy.’ he confirms, keeping his eyes on out entwined fingers.

‘It wasn’t even definite and you were treating me like a priceless object.’

He exhales softly and takes both of our hands to his chest, resting them over his heart, but he still doesn’t look at me. ‘You also think that I might love our child more than you.’

The words make me go rigid. They’re the words I have refused to acknowledge every time they’ve whirled around in my head. I am worried that he’ll love our child more than me. Selfishly, yes, it frightens me to death. The unreasonable thought has been lingering there somewhere, I’ll admit it to myself now. I’ve not long had his love, and I’m blessed to have it. Who wouldn’t want to be loved so powerfully, so passionately? I’m not ready to share him, not with anyone, not even a part of us.

‘Would you?’ I ask quietly. I’m not sure how he’ll answer. All I’ve got to go on is how desperate he is for a baby.

His eyes lift slowly, revealing a sadness I’ve never seen before. Or it could be disappointment. I’m not sure. ‘Do you feel that?’ He flattens my palms on his chest and holds them there firmly. ‘It was made to love you, Ava. For too long it was useless, redundant, not required. Now it’s gone into overdrive. It swells with happiness when I look at you. It splinters with pain when we fight. And it beats wildly when I make love to you. Maybe I go overboard with my love, but that’s never going to change. I’ll love you this fiercely until the day I die, baby. Children or not.’