“I’m not hiding from you. I’m hiding from the world. I stink,” she whines, clutching tightly to her pillow. I know that’s not the real reason, but I’ll accept this answer for now.
“Yeah, well, you just stay right there,” I say, curling around her and getting comfortable. “We have a few hours before we have to go. Let’s nap.” She doesn’t speak, but she does remove the pillow from her face and toss it across the bed opting instead, to lay her head on my arm. We lay like this for a while before she dozes off. Sometime later she stirs and her body stiffens in my arms.
"Brad?" My pretty girl's voice breaks my thoughts. She shifts in my arms and turns to face me. Only, her head is cast down and she's refusing to meet my eyes. "I'm not on anything," she whispers.
I'm a detective. I should be perceptive enough to know what she means. At the very least I understand that this statement has significance.
"I never said you were," I defend myself, thinking she thinks I'm accusing her of something. Colleen likes to fight with me, so there's a very good chance she's just throwing this out there to see how pissed off she can make me. She knows I hate it when she puts words in my mouth.
"Do you get what I'm saying?" her voice gets small, almost indistinguishable from the low whizzing of the heater as it pushes warm air through the house. The thing is, I don't get what she's saying. Though, in the back of my skull, I wonder if I really do get it and I'm just playing dumb.
I lift up her chin, forcing her to look at me. She stubbornly refusing to look me in the eyes; instead opting for staring at my ear. I use my other hand to lightly flick her nose. Immediately, she shoots me a glare.
"The hell?" She grumbles.
"Eyes front and center, pretty girl," I demand. Okay, so it's not much of a demand. If she didn't do it, what could I really do about it? Nothing. But she does look at me. Just when I think she'll never listen, she does. And that's part of what I love about this insufferable woman-- she keeps me guessing.
"I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds important," I say. Being straightforward is probably the best option at this point. I think.
"Brad," she whines and tries to cover her face, but I block her. Without turning away she from me she says, "I'm not ON anything." It takes only a split second before her meaning seeps through my thick skull. She's not ON anything. No birth control. We've never used a condom, and it’s been great.
Not for a single moment have I ever considered birth control. It just wasn't a concern. With every other woman, I've been Captain Careful; but this is Colleen. Who cares if we have a kid? I guess that's what I was thinking at least, because the fear of pregnancy never struck me.
"Please say something," she whispers, her eyes filled with unshed tears. I smile at her as best I can. It's not that I'm annoyed with her, I'm just in shock. I don't know what to say or do right now. I can't place the responsibility on her because I never brought it up. And even if I could, I'm not pissed about the possibility. Maybe I sound lame for saying it, but I want to be a dad. I like kids. They're fun and entertaining, and damn if James and Darla's daughter, Lilly, doesn't have me wrapped around her little finger.
I look at James and see the way his entire demeanor changes when he sees his kids and I envy the bastard. The day Lilly was born, he actually cried. Bawled like a bitch in front of all the boys in the middle of the hospital. A few of the guys there thought he looked like a tool, but most of them "got it." Meanwhile, I stood there wishing I'd "gotten it."
"So?" I manage to say because my brain hasn't caught up to my mouth just yet. And that does it. She starts with the goddamn crying. I want to tell her that it's alright. I want to tell her that I'll be here for her no matter what. I want to tell her that I love her and that if I have or do knock her up, that I'll be the happiest man on the planet. But I'm an idiot so I don't.
"Ah, come on," I say. I wipe the tears from her eyes and kiss her forehead. "Why are you crying?" I ask, trying to sound gentle because I don't want to see anymore fucking tears.
"You're an asshole!" she shouts in my face. I pull back, my ears ringing, annoyed. What the hell is with the shouting now?
"What's your damn problem?" I snap back.
"MY problem!" She snorts. When she's pissed, like now, her accent is really strong and it's hot. "I tell you that we've been having sex without any protection and you stare at me like I'm speaking a foreign goddamn language!" The truth is, sometimes I do think she's speaking a foreign goddamn language.
"I'm trying to be comforting here!" I growl, because I'm really trying and she's not making it easy. Once again, I go from wanting to kiss her to wanting to choke her.