Dear Diary,
Two days ago I thought I was going into labor. Mr. Churcher had to come home from work and drive me and Jacob to the hospital. They said it was false labor, something called Braxton Hicks. (Of course it was named after a man. Like he ever had it.) I wouldn’t want a false labor named after me. I was sorry to inconvenience Mr. Churcher. Little Jacob was so confused. He didn’t like it when they took me back into the checkup room and wouldn’t let him go with me. He started crying. He didn’t even want to be with his father. He wanted me.
Noel
Rachel was the happiest I’d seen her since we’d met. The night air was cool, so I opened the car’s front windows a few inches to bring in fresh air. As we drove back to our hotel, I said, “What a night. I thought it was going to be awful. Instead, it was perfect.”
“He was so happy to see you,” she said. Then she added, “I’m happy to see you.” I glanced over at her and she suddenly laughed. “I feel so good.”
“It’s the wine,” I said.
“I might have to do this more.”
“Yeah. Well, not tonight.”
“How come?”
“Because you’ve had enough.”
As we neared the resort Rachel became less talkative and I wondered if the alcohol was making her sleepy. I handed my keys to the valet, then took Rachel by the arm and walked into the hotel.
As we walked down the long corridor to our suite, she laid her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her. We walked inside our room, then Rachel turned to me, a soft smile warming her face. “Thank you for helping me find my mother.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “We helped each other.”
She looked into my eyes. “Did you mean what you said?”
“What did I say?”
“Do you really think I’m a catch?”
“Yes. You are. Not just because you’re insanely beautiful but because you’re a really good person. You’re very sweet.”
She giggled. “I am sweet,” she said, touching my chest with her finger. “Do you like me?”
“I don’t think Brandon likes me. I think he wants to marry me, but I think he would change a lot of things about me if he could. I think he’s going to put a leash on me.”
I chuckled. “He’d be a fool to do so. And you have definitely had too much to drink.”
“I only had a little.”
“I know. But for you a little is a lot.”
Her eyes softened with a childlike vulnerability. “Do you love me?”
The question had more power than she could have known. My heart throbbed in my chest. I looked into her eyes. “Yes.”
“I love you too. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.” Then she leaned into me and we kissed. Softly at first, then with growing passion and power. After a couple of minutes she stepped back from me and grabbed my hand. “Come here.” She led me into her bedroom and we both fell over on the bed. We drew together like magnets, her soft, full lips dissolving into mine. Then she reached over and began to undress me. I took her hands and stopped her.
“No,” I said, sitting up. “We can’t do this.”
“Of course we can,” she said breathlessly. “I want to do this.”
“No. You’ll hate me tomorrow. You’re engaged to another man.”
“I don’t want to be engaged anymore.”
“You’re in no condition to decide that right now. I’m not going to lose you by taking advantage of you.”
She started to cry. “You won’t lose me.”
“Yes, I will. Your guilt will eat you alive. You won’t want it to, but it will.”
Her wet eyes pleaded with me. “But don’t you want me?”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.” I kissed her again. Then, with our eyes still locked on each other, I stood. “We’ll talk in the morning, Rachel. We’ll make plans in the morning.”
I didn’t just walk out of her room, I walked out of the suite. I took a brief walk around the property to cool myself off. I was pretty sure that I wanted her more than she wanted me. But I was also sure that I wanted her for more than just one night. And after her last meltdown, it was clear to me that her guilt was bigger than she could handle.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, the quote from Hamlet came to mind: “Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.”