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“I’m sorry,” I say, “but you’re the one who stopped short after a turn.” “Because there was a kid,” she yells, and god, why is she so pretty while she’s yelling at me?
“Sorry again,” I mouth, and she gives an absolutely lethal eye roll that I will be thinking about for the next three weeks while I shower and every time I close my eyes to sleep.
I am desperately nosy and wish I knew what it was, but I am in no position to ask.
Her smile is everything to me, like it might make my brain melt the way her cheeks push up her eyelids and she tries to keep her lips closed.
“I’m Vanessa.” “Nathaniel,” I say. Then, “Nate Gilbert. Good to meet you, Vanessa.”
As if her face isn’t already perfect, she needed to have a dimple. Sure.
“Why?” “Because I don’t know very many women.” “Flattering,” I say, wry. “And even if I did know many women, you might be the most beautiful one.”
Vanessa is hot, like stupid hot. She is hotter than me, I am aware. I would probably have to be an Avenger, or a fucking vampire to be as hot as she is. And despite trying to bribe me like some sort of criminal or nefarious millionaire, she apologized and has been friendly ever since. Charming, even. Hot, and charming. Deadly combination.
I keep asking her questions, looking for whatever it is that should signal to me as a red flag, but I think she may be perfect.
who's gonna tell him
My mind paints a very clear fantasy, unbidden, in which Vanessa and I live in domestic bliss. I’ve quit my job, just for a few years, just until the youngest is in pre-school, and Vanessa runs the world all day before she comes home to be with me and our two babies. After the children are asleep, after a delicious dinner I made, unless we ordered in, we make love and in fact make another baby, a third, a girl who we name Vanessa Jr. She has my nose. I think there is something wrong with me.
“There’s never enough time for matters of the heart.”
“Ultimately, we’re all family,” Vanessa says. “And family takes care of family.” This is very Fast & Furious of her, but I don’t mention it.
Personally, I love screen time. I get it. This is why I am meant to be an aunt and not a mother.
can handle any number of things on my own, but I didn’t realize how nice it is, sometimes, to have someone whose job is to handle things with you.
I don’t know how to tell her she’s the most beautiful woman, monster or not, that I’ve ever seen, and with every day that passes in her presence, I’m increasingly certain that there’s hardly a bad or cruel or monstrous thing about her.
“You’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” I say. “It’s barely human how much I want you.”
I am like a malfunctioning machine, unable to think of anything other than Vanessa, Vanessa, Vanessa,
“Nate is a good person, Vanessa,” Mom says. “And he was already half in love with you when you brought him here.”
“I can’t fucking lose you, I don’t want to,” I say. “I like you so bad. Too much.”
“You know what I am,” Vanessa says. “I do. I think you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I do, I do. I love you. Please,” I whisper, but I don’t even know what I’m begging for. “Please.”
“I want to be the one. I love you,” I say, and then I say it ten more times, a chant against her ear. “Let me be the one. Please, please.” When I pull away, she looks serious, assessing how serious I am, and whatever she finds makes her nod. “Okay,” she whispers. “Yes.”
He’s a beautiful man. Grass green eyes watching mine, a strong unshaven jaw, curly hair that’s mussed and unruly like he’s been raking his hands through it. I want to keep him.
“I love you,” he says, pauses, then rushes on, “I am criminally, fatally in love with you, and you can try to marry someone else, but I’m not going to leave. I like your house too much and I like you too much to ever be away from you.”
It’s me, Vanessa. It’s you and me, I can’t explain how I know it, but I do. It’s us. We’re meant to be, and I will not let some Russian mob boss come between that.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so bad, Nate. You challenge me and push me to be better, you make me laugh, you’re the brightest man I’ve ever met.”
“You’re perfect,” he says. “And you’re stuck with me. When your arm isn’t swollen from being yanked out of its socket, I’m going to put a ring on your finger and marry you in front of every criminal in this city, and if anyone has a problem with that, they’ll have you to deal with, and clearly, you are no one to mess with.”
“Husband,” she muses. “Wife,” I say.
Vanessa squeezes my arm and kisses me on the lips. It still thrills me that I’m the man she kisses in front of everyone—the one she calls her husband, the one who will be the father of her children. I am the single most lucky man in the state of Massachusetts, and beyond.
