Perdie tilted her head. “Don’t waste time?”
“If you love him, don’t waste any time. Cindy and I wasted so much time, and regretted it.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand...”
“Look, the age gap. It’s no big deal, I’m hip to it. Except you’re pushing forty, huh? Never married? Don’t answer, I looked up your court records.”
“You did what?”
“And people are marrying later nowadays and using IVF and all sorts of stuff, but let’s do the math. You take a year to get married, another year to settle down? That puts you at what? Forty, forty-one? Risky. Cindy and I...we waited too long to have Carter...we struggled for him. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Take my advice and do it now.”
For a full thirty seconds, speech evaded Perdie. Her heart pounded in her chest. “Okay, thank you for the advice.”
Jesse’s face softened. “I’ve freaked you out, haven’t I? We just met, we’re practically strangers. But I wouldn’t say any of this if I didn’t absolutely with all my heart believe that you and my son belong together. Call it a hunch, and my hunches have never been wrong. Just like my judgments. So, take it from me, capisce?”
Perdie nodded slowly. “Sure. Yeah, I...uh... I got it.”
Jesse handed Perdie another orange and then wiped her hands off on her pants. “Now that that’s settled.” She opened her arms. “Come on in for a hug.”
On the way to the airport, Perdie clammed up, her brain oversoaked like a sponge. She had been too brave today perhaps. Eventually she managed to banter with Carter as usual. But she couldn’t ignore the pit in her stomach.
She tossed the oranges in the trash at the airport terminal when Carter wasn’t looking. Their flight had been canceled, but there was another one heading out the same time, and he’d gone over to the ticket agent to book new seats.
“I’ve got good and bad news.” Carter strode over to her. “So, the good news is we got tickets on the next flight out of here. The bad news is we got downgraded to coach.”
“I’ll take it.” Plane seats were the least of her worries.
Once boarded, the atmosphere irked her. Different than when they’d flown to California. The seating was cramped, and Perdie and Carter were squished together like a panini. Their shared armrest was jammed halfway up, forcing her to cross her arms over her chest in a makeshift hug.
Perdie longed to zone out.
A lot had happened in the last few hours. So much. More than she was ready to handle. She needed to decompress. She needed to get home and talk to Lucille. For now, she could only concentrate on the things right in front of her. Like this grimy table tray. Keep the mood light, P.
“You want some of my ginger ale?” She held up the clear plastic cup. “Tradesies for that bag of pretzels.”
“Perdie.”
“Huh?”
“I love you.”
Perdie choked on her drink. When she regained her breath, she squeezed her eyes closed.
Carter’s voice was soft. “Did you hear me? I love you.”
“Carter, I...” She gulped. Suddenly, the world was fuzzy. So much for keeping things light. “I don’t want kids.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A record-scratch moment. The air chilled between them.
Carter’s brows knitted together. “Kids? Who said anything about kids?”
“Well, you want them, right? Soccer practice, chicken nuggets, white fences, the whole nine?”
His lips parted to say something, then he shook his head. “Is this because I asked you to meet my parents? I know I pushed your limits, but don’t you think this conversation is a little early?”
“Early for whom? I’m seven years older than you. I’m too old to wait around for you to be ready for these kinds of conversations.”
Carter let out a big exhale. “Okay...” His eyes closed. “I guess I really never thought that hard about it before. Starting a family is—”
“You mean a family with kids. Just because I don’t want to have my own kids doesn’t mean I don’t have a family.”
“You interrupted me.” He stabbed his hand through his hair. “I’d be happy without kids.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t—” Carter paused, then spoke in a measured tone. “What’s this really about?”
“It’s about kids. I just told you what it’s about, don’t look at me like that. I don’t want them, and you do.”
“Stop. I don’t give a fuck about having kids.”
“I should’ve seen it before, but I ignored the red flags of our relationship. I pushed forward with us anyway, but I knew better.”
“Better than what? What’s going on with you?” But from the cast of his face, she could tell he already had an inkling.
“Better than to hope this could work. You and me. We don’t belong together, it’s like pairing a moose with a field mouse. You’re the wholesome hero home for the holidays, and I’m the drunk spinster in the weird glasses crashing the party. I’m not the droid you’re looking for. Orange trees, parents, commitment, living together...marriage... Do I look like someone interested in that? I’ll never be ready. We had a fun time playing house, but to quote your own sentiment: commitment isn’t in my DNA. Just ask my mother. Better yet ask yours.”
