Roxie
Over the next few months, I see Caleb nearly every day.
In the week, we occasionally go out for lunch, and then we catch up after work, or later if I’m waitressing or have a gig. Sometimes he comes to my place; sometimes I go to his. Most nights, we make love—often more than once, but we also do so much more than that. We play the guitar, watch movies, listen to music, and sometimes just lie in bed and talk. Every now and then, we go out with Seb and Colette, or Harry and Gaby, and sometimes all of them with Elen and her boyfriend, Danny, with whom she’s hooked up again after a while apart, and to my surprise we all get on really well.
I’m dating, I realize after a couple of weeks. In the real, proper sense of the word. I haven’t dated since I was sixteen, and even then, it wasn’t like this. I’m so happy I must shine with the force of a thousand suns.
The main reason for my happiness is that I just love being with Caleb so much, and the way he treats me makes me feel like a princess. He buys me flowers and chocolates, he takes me out to dinner, and he looks at me like… I don’t know… like I’m someone.
The other reason for my happiness is the way he is with James.
When I’m on my own, and there’s nobody there to observe me being emotional, I have to admit that I sometimes have a little cry when I think about how lucky I’ve been. If I have introduced any of the men I’ve been with to James—and I’ve only done this a couple of times—they’ve stared at him like he’s an alien, and practically ignored him. One told me straight that he wasn’t going to bring up another man’s child.
From that first day in the coffee shop, Caleb has been so sweet to James. We see him most weekends, and we take him out to the park or to the zoo. Caleb plays with him, carries him on his shoulders, teases him like a father should do, and although we haven’t discussed it, and I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it yet, I know that James is already starting to think of Caleb like a daddy.
I like that he doesn’t immediately throw money at the boy to buy his affection. He does treat him a lot, but then I suspect the man gets as much pleasure from buying and playing with the toys as the boy does. But it’s not like he goes into a toyshop and buys the whole two shelves of Bionicles to make James like him. He could afford to do so, I know it, but he understands that I wouldn’t want that. He does the same with me—he treats me, the way I suppose a man likes to treat his girl, but without making me feel uncomfortable.
It’s lovely taking things slow. We don’t talk about the future—we concentrate on the present, and just enjoy being together. In my head, I’m thinking it might be six months to a year before either one of us raises the issue of What’s Next. I have no plans to, anyway. I’m happy coasting, just enjoying being with him.
And then one night, in bed, when I think he’s fallen asleep after a particularly enthusiastic lovemaking session, Caleb says in the dark, “I want you to meet my parents.”
I open my eyes, then raise up on an elbow and stare at him. “What?”
He tucks an elbow under his head. The moon is half full and I can just see him, shining a dull silver in the moonlight. “I said I want you to meet my parents.”
“Why?”
He tips his head in the way that tells me he’s giving me an exasperated look. “Because I think it’s time they met the love of my life.”
I catch my breath, and my heart stutters to a stop.
We’ve told each other I love you, and Caleb’s always showering me with endearments, but it’s the first time he’s said something like this. The love of my life. A lump grows in my throat, and I have to swallow hard to shift it.
“Are you getting all fucking soppy on me?” I say, resorting to sassy, as I always do when I feel emotional.
“Yep.” He kisses my forehead. “So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy.” Panic ripples through me. “I can’t meet your parents. They’ll hate me.”
“Well, I don’t think they will, and even if they do, I don’t care. But I think they should meet you. Because I’m going to marry you eventually, and I’m guessing they might want to be at the wedding.”
Now I feel faint. “What?”
He pulls me toward him and rolls onto his back so I’m lying on top of him. “Yes, you heard me. I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife. I want James to call me daddy, if you’re happy with that. I think you both deserve some security in your lives. And while we’re at it, I’d like you to move in with me, and then, once you’re settled, I think James should come and live with us.”
My jaw drops. He hasn’t mentioned moving in with him before, and even though we stay over each other’s places and have the usual drawer with spare clothes and a toothbrush, I’ve been happy with the setup.
But the thought of living with him, of not having to go home to my tiny apartment, and of having James there full time…
“Do you mean it?” I whisper.
“Of course I mean it.” He kisses me. “I love you, Roxie. I’m crazy about you. And I want to take care of you and James. Not that you need a man to take care of you—I’m very aware of that. But I’d like to help. It’s entirely up to you, but if you’re not paying out rent for the apartment, I thought you could give up the waitressing job. It might give you a bit more time for your studies.”
“You’ve been thinking a lot about this,” I say.
“I have. I’ve been enjoying planning our future.”
“Taking liberties again?” I try to be flippant, but my bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Are you getting all fucking soppy on me, Jones?”
I nod and squeak, “Yes.”
“Aw. Come here.” He kisses me and rolls us onto our sides so we can kiss and cuddle to our heart’s content, and I lie there and let him, trying not to cry, and thinking that I must have a fairy godmother after all.