“She didn’t plan on getting pregnant in high school, but she wasn’t going to give up the baby. It wasn’t easy,” I said heavily, remembering the terror on Ella’s face when she’d learned she was having a baby. “I was only in eighth grade. We’d always been close, and I wanted desperately to help her, to fix the problem. But there was, of course, nothing to be done. My parents didn’t want her to have an abortion, and she didn’t either. She’d planned to give up the baby for adoption.”
“That must have been tough for Ella.” His eyes filled with sadness.
“But once she was further along, she couldn’t go through with the adoption,” I said, recalling Ella’s tears, her heartache. “I used to hear her crying at night, and in the morning, she’d talk to my mom about what to do.”
“That’s so hard. I can’t even imagine how my sisters would have handled that,” he said sympathetically, his eyes soft as they locked with mine.
“My parents supported her choice. They understood it too—why she’d had a change of heart. But once he was born, everything was upended for her, and for them too. They became grandparents, and, in a way, parents again.”
“It’s the kind of life change that shocks everyone,” he said, taking a second to squeeze my arm, a friendly, caring squeeze.
“And she also took it upon herself to make sure I wouldn’t follow in her footsteps. She urged me to be careful, to use protection. It was nonstop, her advice train. And, of course, it was and is good advice,” I said, and took a drink of the coffee, thinking of my overprotective sister. “Her advice worked. But in a different way.”
He lifted a curious brow, as he took a bite of the omelet. “How so?”
“I made a different decision then—to wait. I didn’t want to take a single chance, Adam. I didn’t want that type of soul-ripping, bone-crushing heartache. And I also knew from an early age what I wanted in life.”
“Your photography,” he said, smiling, like he was delighted to know the answer.
I smiled too. “I knew what I wanted when I was thirteen and my parents gave me my first camera. All I ever wanted was to be a photographer. To go to art school, to learn the craft. I didn’t want anything to derail my plans. And when Ella got pregnant, I learned exactly how one mistake, one stolen moment where you took a risk, could backfire. Could capsize your future. Even though my parents helped, Ella had to drop out of high school for the first six months after the baby was born. My mom cut back at her job to help with the baby. And when Ella finally went to college, it took her six years and so many sleepless nights to get her degree.”
“That’s rough,” he said, shaking his head and reaching for my hand, clasping it. “I had no idea how hard it was for her.”
“She’s on the other side now. An amazing nurse, with a great kid. Her own place too. But it took a long time, Adam,” I said, squeezing his hand in return. “And I wanted something different. I wanted my dreams first, and my dreams meant a bachelor’s degree. I promised myself I would remain a virgin all through college. But I wasn’t stupid. I took precautions just in case. I started on protection back then, because I didn’t want to ever worry about a broken condom. I knew I had to be in charge of my own fate and my own body. And I suppose I figured I’d meet someone after college, but I haven’t met anyone I liked enough,” I said with a what can you do shrug. “And honestly, it was easier to devote all my energy to work and photography.”
He flashed a proud grin, gesturing around my home and to the studio at the far end of the hallway where I shot my pictures. “And it paid off. You’re so young and so far ahead in your career, and you own your own home at twenty-four. That’s amazing.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I was proud too—I’d accomplished a lot already at my age, and I was relentless with my drive. I’d shut most things out of my life except for friends and photography for the last few years, dating only sparsely. “And I’m glad of that. Even when I dated, I never met anyone who thrilled me.”
He scoffed. “Because you dated tools.” He took another bite of his breakfast.
“Gee, thanks.”
He set down his fork, leveling me with an honest stare. “Well, they kind of were, Nina. That guy Kenny? He was a professional poker player, and all he talked about were different combinations of cards. He nearly put me to sleep the night we all went to dinner. Wait, I think he did. If memory serves, I fell asleep at the table.”
I didn’t want to laugh, to admit I’d had bad taste, but I couldn’t help myself. “So he wasn’t terribly scintillating.”
“‘Scintillating’? He was tedious.”
With a huff, I shrugged. My admission. “Okay, he was duller than Dullsville.”
“Good. While we’re at it, how about Jared? Wasn’t he, like, a product manager of spreadsheets, or something equally mind-numbing? You’d need a microscope to find his sense of humor.”
My lips quirked into a grin, as I tried to rein in a chuckle. “No. The requirement was actually the world’s strongest microscope to find it,” I said, then laughed. It was so good to be normal with him the next day. To poke fun at me, together. To be who we’d always been with each other. He’d seen me half-naked, he’d sent me soaring to the heavens, and he’d come on me, then watched me lick his release off my lips. And still, we were laughing and teasing the next morning. It was so easy to be with him. To be us, and this conversation tugged at the part of my brain that craved interesting facts. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? What is the world’s most powerful microscope?”
Like twin gunslingers, we grabbed our phones from our pocket holsters, fingers swiping. I beat him to the punch.
“Berkeley has a twenty-seven-million-dollar electron microscope,” I blurted out.
“It lets you see to a resolution that’s half the freaking width of a hydrogen atom,” he said, jumping in.
“That’s one ten-millionth of a millimeter,” I said, my jaw dropping with wonder. “It can see everything.”
He smiled as he read more, devouring intel about microscopes, then he stopped and met my gaze. “Look at us,” he said, kind of amazed.
My heart skittered knowing we were on the same wavelength. “Yeah, look at us.”
“We’re doing this. Like we said we would last night. Breakfast, and lightning-fast searches to look stuff up, and talking.”
“We’re us,” I said, seconding him, then I returned to the previous topic, because digging into my reasons, my choices, felt good. “Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe I wasn’t so great at picking men. Maybe I was drawn to guys I didn’t have a great connection with because I knew what I wanted in bed.”
His brow knitted. “I’m not following, but keep going, because I want to.”
I swallowed, drawing a deep breath of air. “I think I always knew what I wanted in bed, and that it would be hard to find it, and harder still to voice it. So I chose the other path—where I wouldn’t ever be faced with voicing my desires. I chose men who were unlikely to stimulate my mind, and so I kept my desires locked up.”