In the Mix (25 page)

He whips the door open, anger all over that beautiful face of his. “What’s the matter?” I ask innocently.

“What’s the matter?” he seethes. “Oh, I don’t know, Ceese. Could it be the fact that I’ve been dealing with fire and police up until five minutes before you came back home?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You left without the damn code to the alarm system.”

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Where the fuck did you go? It’s five in the damn morning, Ceese!” he whisper yells then slams the door after I get out. Kinda defeats the purpose behind the whisper yell, but I won’t mention that to him.

“I needed to go to the store.” I attempt to throw my small pharmacy bag into my purse.

“For what?” He grabs it from me as he opens the door to the house. I follow him in, not knowing how to prepare for any reaction from him. Kyle stops dead in his tracks. My heart races a million miles a minute. “Did you take this already?” he asks, not even looking back at me.

“Yes.”

“Wow, ok,” he sighs. Shaking his head, he tosses the bag onto the counter as we enter the kitchen. He turns around, leans up against the counter, and crosses his arms.

We stare.

Not eye fuck stare.

Just regular “Who’s going to talk first” stare.

“I think it needs to be said that if I did, in fact, get you pregnant, it doesn’t mean I would leave you,” he pipes up first (there’s a shocker!).

“Well, then, it should also be said that if you did,
in fact,
get me pregnant, it doesn’t mean I would stay with you,” I counter.

“Touché.”

“Look, I don’t want to argue about this. We are both at fault here. Let’s just move on and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” I toss out a white flag before one is truly needed.

“Oh, I agree. But before we lay this to rest, I need to tell you how I feel about this.” He stands up straight. “You just said we were both at fault, no?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, don’t you think we
both
should’ve been involved in your little decision here?” he asks and I notice a little tick-like action happening in his jawline. I may also be a little mesmerized by his slight flexing and releasing of his chest and arm muscles. It’s like he’s fighting back an eternal battle or something.

Flex.

Release.

Flex.

Release.

“CiCi!” he yells, bringing me back to focus.

“It’s my body, Kyle. I’m the one who decides.”

“It’s
my
baby, too!”

“We don’t know if I got pregnant, so just stop. You’re taking this to a place it doesn’t need to go.” I try to calm him down.

“What you did is against
everything
I believe in, regardless as to whether or not a baby was created.”

“Listen, if you’re going to get all political on my ass, then I’m leaving. I don’t have to listen to this bullshit.” I head towards the stairs.

“It’s not bullshit. It’s a life and it shouldn’t be canceled out because you don’t feel like being responsible for it!” he seethes.

“Whoa! Back the fuck up, Jack! First of all, don’t talk to me like that. Second of all, where do you get off judging anybody? You know, Kyle, I share those same views as you—to a point. But, there are
always
exceptions.” Oh, fuck it to hell; my blood is boiling.

“Was my sister one of those exceptions, Ceese?” he asks in a condescending tone.

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you bring her into this conversation! This has nothing to do with her!” I stalk towards him. “You think I’d terminate a pregnancy over downs syndrome?! You
asshole!
” I poke at his chest.

“There are no exceptions. Even in the worse conditions, there’s always adoption. So many couples who can’t have kids are waiting. Look at Ava and Trent.” He pushes into my finger.

“Don’t
you
tell me about
my
friends!”

“Don’t tell you. Don’t . . . don’t . . . don’t! That’s all you’ve got! What can I tell you about, Ceese? Can I tell you that being adopted is probably a hell of a lot better than being—oh, I don’t know—
dead?
! How about the burden of the mom’s decision, weighing heavier than the burden of raising that child?” he yells in my face.

“No, Kyle . . . you definitely don’t need to tell me about that burden.”

Fuck my chin and it’s quivering.

Fuck my eyes and their inability to fight off my tears.

And fuck my heart that has been breaking for fifteen years.

I don’t know how much time has passed. All I know, is I somehow ended up on the floor, in Kyle’s arms, gasping through my horrific-sounding sobs. “Shh . . . shh,” he whispers against my temple. “I’m so sorry . . . I’m sorry,” he adds and kisses my hair.
Stop, CiCi, stop. Oh, God, he wasn’t supposed to know—nobody was supposed to know! Think. Think. Think.

I wipe my face and try to get out of his arms. “I need to go,” I say casually as if I didn’t just have a mental breakdown (or whatever that was).

“No!” He jerks his head and stands up with me. “You’re not going. We’re going to sit down and you are going to talk this out with me. You’re not running away from us or your past anymore. You’re done with it. It’s time, Birkita. It’s time to let it go.” He guides me to the living room.

Anyone else singing, “Let it Go” from
Frozen,
in their heads now?

Jesus, that fucking song! Thanks, Brooklynn!

We sit on the sofa; his thumbs, caressing the backs of my hands that he has a strong grasp on. “What happened?” he encourages me to begin. I don’t want to begin, though. I don’t want to talk about this, at all. So I cried, who cares? It was a moment of weakness. I got it out, now I’ll be fine for a while.

“It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” I try my hand at avoiding.

“Yes, it is.”

“I was thinking today was Monday, last night when we were figuring out the cars.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about anything but being with you.” He leans in and pecks my lips softly.

“Do you go to church on Sundays? I go to church. Sometimes I don’t go with the family. I go by myself to St. Christopher’s. It’s an Episcopalian church. I like it there. It’s very similar to my Catholic church but it has a cozier feel to it. My family and friends don’t know I go there. Well, Maddie knows. She’s the secret keeper in the GEGs. She’s also our captain. She’s great. I pretty much tell her everything. I think we all do. Do you have somebody like that?” I sit and wait for him to digest all of my ramblings, deeply hoping that it was enough to distract him from his previous agenda. He gives me the warmest, closed-lip smile I’ve ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. And I remember . . .

He gets me . . .

“I don’t go to church as often as I should, but I would love to come with you to St. Christopher’s. It could be
our
secret. From the few times I’ve met Maddie, I’d say I agree with your assessment of her. Although, I’m not really sure at this point in your life what having her as your captain means but I’m sure, knowing you girls, I will probably be holding my gut, laughing, once I find out. The person I tell everything to is my mom. Mitch comes in at a close second, though. Did I answer all of the questions to your satisfaction?” He reaches up and pushes some of my hair behind my ear. I lean into his touch. It’s becoming an annoying habit of mine. I hate being so needy. But then I feel the weight of his lips on mine, his tongue gliding across them, encouraging them to part. And suddenly, any thoughts of this new habit being annoying are erased. I open, allowing him to deepen the kiss and everything just feels right in the world. I’m not sure how to really explain it because a part of me wants to fight this so bad—these feelings. The rest of me wants to come home and Kyle feels like he’s the key in helping me find the way there. Slowly, I lean back, pulling him with me. “Ceese,” he murmurs against my lips, “we need to talk, beautiful.”

“I need you.” I lean up to taste his mouth again.

“Baby, I—”

“—Stop. I have asked you several times now, not to call me that.” I place my hand on his chest to create some space between us.

“Is that what he called you?” He sits back up.

“Yes, he and every other damn guy on the planet. You’re different, Kyle, in every way. Especially, the way I feel about you—it’s different. It’s special, don’t make it ordinary.” I do nothing to hide my irritation.

Kyle stares at me and it makes me feel even more awkward from having diarrhea of the mouth. “I just have to say this,” he starts. I cringe. “Hearing the words that just came out of your mouth makes me want to take my inner vagina, throw it out there, and beg you to let me have your baby.”

My eyes, I imagine, are bugged the fuck out.

I suck both of my lips in, attempting to not die from laughter.

Fuck it!

“Bwahahaha,” shoots out of my mouth at full force. I can’t even stop. I mean, who talks like this besides me? I find myself slowing down, wondering, did he ever talk like this before meeting me? If not, is this a good thing for him? Am I good for him?

“Whoa . . . what’s going on in there? Why are you so serious all of the sudden?” He tilts his head as if to figure me out.

“I just love you—I mean, I love that you . . . uh . . . um, that you have no problem saying shit like this to me!”
What. In. The. Actual. Fuck?

“Stop.” He smirks.

“No, but I . . . I mean, we don’t . . . we haven’t . . . it’s only been three months and only recently . . . look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea or lead you on.” I finally blurt out.

“You don’t want to lead me on?” He bites back his smile. Motherfucker is eating this shit up.

“No. I don’t,” I say in a voice full of defeat.

“Well, let’s clarify things . . . make sure I’m fully aware of where you stand, so I don’t feel lead on, okay?”

“Um, ok.” I look at him, curious as to what he’s up to.

He pushes back on the sofa and pats the seat cushion between his legs. “Come here,” he invites me. I give him a meek smile and climb into the space between his legs, settling my back against his chest.
Mmm . . . perfect.
“See this, right here? I love this, Ceese; how perfect you fit in my arms. From the sound of your sigh, am I right to assume you love it, too?” his voice is so soothing next to my ear. I close my eyes, enjoying the extra squeeze he’s giving me. “Well?”

“Yes, I love it.”

“Do you love the way I kiss you?” He brings his fingers up to my chin, turning my face and tilting it up to his. Kyle’s lips collect mine and it’s like Heaven the way our tongues glide over each other.

“Yes,” I breathe when he pulls away.

His hand slips down from my chin, my neck, the center of my chest, until he reaches the hem of my shirt. I’m not going to lie; my breathing may be a little labored at the moment. “Do you love how I caress your skin, beautiful?” His hands travel under my shirt, his fingers gliding across my stomach, nonchalantly.

“Kyle,” I gasp lightly, my head rolling back onto his shoulder. My hands grasp at the material of his pj bottoms in anticipation of being driven out of my mind.
Fuck the way he affects me, damn it!

“Do you? Do you love when I touch you?” His hands become less nonchalant.

“Yes . . . yes,” I pant.

Kyle’s breathing becomes labored, as well, the higher his hands travel. “Damn it,” he seethes. I’m pretty sure his tone is not due to him being angry with me. He quickly brings his hands back out into the light of day. “What else do you love, CiCi—tell me,” he demands, running his hands through his hair.

“Um . . . I—”

“Spit it out!”

“I thought you like it when I swallowed.” I crook my neck and give him a coy smile.

“Oh, that goes under the category of ‘love.’ CiCi, I love every bit, every part of having sex with you. Let’s avoid that aspect. I want to know what you love outside of the bedroom, okay?” He nips at my bottom lip.

“Okay.” And suddenly, I, CiCi O’Brien, am feeling shy. Without a blink or slight change of shade in my cheeks, I could easily tell Kyle that I love watching his big, fat cock, pounding my pussy. Telling Kyle that I love his eskimo kisses has me on the verge of fucking hives. I don’t know where to begin. There are so many things to choose from; I’m not sure if I should say the little things or the things that are
huge
to me. Funny thing is, it’s the little things that are huge to me.

“Wow . . . you have to think this hard about it? You’re kind of giving me a complex, here, Ceese.” He picks at an imaginary piece of lint on his pants, and then rubs his palm against his knee.

“No! No, Kyle.” I start to get up but only to turn around onto my knees to face him. “There’s so many things that I love, I’m having a hard time organizing them in my head,” I try to ease his insecurity. He slides his hands onto my hips and it’s all I can do not to attack him. “I love that you find ways to touch me,” I blurt out. He starts to open his mouth and I’m pretty sure it’s to remind me that I’m not supposed to make this about sex. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a sexual way. You always manage to grab my hand to hold, place a hand on my back . . . stuff like that. It makes me feel good. It doesn’t sound like much but, if it was another guy, I really wouldn’t give a shit.”
Hi, CiCi, welcome back! Now stop being a pussy and tell him how you feel.
Encouraged by Kyle’s boyish grin, I carry on. “I’m big on family; being an O’Brien, you really don’t have a choice.” I chuckle a little. “I love that you are, too. I especially love how close you are with your mom. I’m very close with mine too, so it’s nice that I won’t ever have arguments with you about that. I love that you’re brave enough to say obnoxious things to me like I would say to you. I love it even more that you not only think to do that, but can pull it off, too. I love that you get me—not many people do.”
Fuck the knot in my throat.
“I love that you don’t give up on me. That you have a level of patience with me that should be scientifically researched.”