Dominick
I dismounted my bike, parking it a couple blocks away from the beach and walking the remainder. The streets were full of strangers, a reminder of why I disliked visiting Provincetown during tourist season. The small town exploded at the seams every summer, the quiet place suddenly a cauldron of noise and heat and crowds.
Not good for solitary types, not good at all.
A couple of good friends, an empty bar, playing pool beneath a whooshing fan—that was more my speed, not sandy white beaches full of families. Today, however, I was actively seeking out exactly that. Kids were running around everywhere while their mothers chased after them and fathers looked for souvenirs. The scent of sunscreen was everywhere, mixing and mingling with the aroma of fried donut holes and the ocean's waves.
Just a couple of days ago, I would've fled the scene like it was cursed.
Last night, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'd barely slept, remembering the imploring look Ali had given me when I left yesterday—and how sorely disappointed she would be when I came back and she got a chance to know me.
I had remembered how out-of-place I always felt here, surrounded by happy families I wanted nothing to do with. I had tried to imagine myself as one of those souvenir-buying dads, cringing inwardly all the while. That wasn't me, and could never be me. Ali and Helena both deserved more than I was capable of giving.
Parenthood just wasn't for me, it seemed. Even during a long-term relationship that had seemed to be heading in that direction, the timing had never seemed right. My own father had panicked and taken off after getting my mother pregnant, and I'd never so much as met him. I didn't want to be like that, didn't want to risk starting a family before I was ready.
And so I'd been too busy training, because I needed to make the team.
And then because I needed to prove myself, despite being the rookie.
And then I needed to save money, to profit off my youth while I still could.
And then it was back to training, because I had to prove myself again—after all, I was getting older.
Meanwhile, other players never seemed to have the same problem. They had found the time to start families of their own. At the age of thirty-five, it seemed obvious to me now that the problem had never been about the timing.
It had always been me.
I just wasn't cut out for fatherhood.
Eventually my long and sleepless night came to an end, and I was still obsessing about Provincetown. Somewhere along the line, though, the idea had shifted. I wasn't recoiling from it anymore, but rather craving it.
Damned if I knew when that had happened, or how.
Some deranged part of me had actually wanted to invite Ali and Helena to the beach today. When they had been busy with other plans, pure inertia had carried here all by myself.
I walked to the nearest street cart and bought a bag of still-hot churros, and I wondered if Helena liked them. Or if she'd ever taken Ali to the beach like this, for a day of fun. Had they ever been part of this crowd, just two more anonymous strangers I'd always tried to avoid?
I sat on the curb and watched other children playing, lost in thought. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but by the time it was over I knew that something inside of me had changed. I'd always been afraid of turning out like my father, and the thought had made me run away.
But now, running away was the worst thing I could do. Maybe I would be disappointing, but I already knew from experience that a disappointment was still better than nothing at all.
Besides, I wanted to know more about Ali. Her hobbies and habits, how she spent her free time, the way she interacted with her mother. For the last day, I'd scarcely been able to think about anything else.
Well, she liked motorcycles at least. That was something we already shared. There had to be more common ground, it was just a matter of finding it.
Helena, on the other hand, would probably not be so easy. The way her face had turned ashen when I showed up on her doorstep, or the tension she always seemed to carry whenever I was around.
Not to mention the other issue with her. The fact that she was so stunning, probably the sexiest woman I'd ever laid eyes on. The way I felt whenever I was around her, the irrational and deeply inappropriate feelings of possessiveness. Like she was my mate, like we shared some primal connection that made me think of her as mine.
It was some real caveman shit.
I was keeping it under control, not letting it change how I acted, but damn it was hard. I needed to deal with it somehow, as quickly and neatly as possible. Ordinarily I would've settled those urges by just calling an old fling, but that was no good in this situation.
The idea of me being with another woman filled me with as much revulsion as the idea of Helena being with another man.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remind myself for the thousandth time that she was a complete stranger who just happened to buy sperm I'd donated. It didn't mean anything, and acting like some chest-thumping troglodyte around her would only ruin a good thing. She was already suspicious of me, and trying to put the moves on her would probably send her screaming in the other direction, returning only long enough to hand me a restraining order.
Yeah, I tried to remind myself of all that.
Again.
But instead, when I closed my eyes, all I saw was Helena. The softness in her face, the curves of her ass, the silky imprint of her breasts barely concealed beneath those sexy-as-hell pajamas.
Why had she kept them on, anyway? I asked myself. She'd had plenty of time to change while I was with Ali, but instead she stayed like that.
Dressed practically in her underwear around me.
"It doesn't mean anything," I muttered, but my words were drowned out by the noise in my head.
It was the sound of a caveman, thumping his chest in triumph.