how to make a mixtape :: mgc (fin.)

38. pillowtalk & rings

"Amanda?"

"No."

"Susan?"

"No!"

"Mary?"

"Michael, why are you so unoriginal with names?"

"What, do you want to call our first kid Cobain?"

We both laugh, and I pull my arm closer around him. He smells of sweat and the tea we ordered from room service. He smells sweet and he smells like himself, and the kisses he leaves on my mouth between words taste just how I remember. My head swims and I feel like I'm drowning, but in the best way possible. I am so horribly in love with this godforsaken idiot of a boy. He holds me to his chest, his lips falling clumsily on the crown of my head as he sips his tea again. I can feel the heat from holding the cup in his palm as it touches my shoulder.

"How is Cobain?" I ask, drawing a circle onto his chest with the pad of my finger.

He fixes the blanket across my back, leaning down further into the pillows beside me. "He's good. Misses his Mumma."

"His Mumma?"

"That's you."

"His Mami. You're his Papi."

Michael bursts out laughing. God, nothing sounds more euphonious than his laughter. I shake my head, smiling into his soft skin. I'm so terribly smitten, I need to stop. Looking up, I see a smile spreading across his cheeks, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as he looks down at me, a shadow slanting across the side of his face. My heart aches. He's so beautiful.

"What's wrong with Papi?" I say, patting the chub on his lower belly.

"It's like... isn't that what girls call their boyfriends sometimes?"

I wrinkle my nose. "That's disgusting. That means 'daddy' in Spanish."

"You would've been overjoyed to call me Daddy half an hour ago, don't kinkshame."

I hide my face into the duvet, and the bed shakes with his laughter again. He pulls be back up and his mouth is on mine, pressing love between my lips and spreading it across my body. I'm dizzy when we part, a quiet minute between the story of the night that not even words could say. When he presses his forehead against mine and cups my waist with a hand: it's dizzy. My head feels dizzy and the kisses are dizzy and it's hard to believe I'm lying flush next to him with his shoulder against mine and his body so close. It's unbelievable that I'm close enough to him to see each hair of his stubble paint his chin, and the lines detailing his lips as I rest my head into the crook of his neck.

"You know, I really want a family one day," he says softly. I look up, cradling his jaw with the dip in my palm. "Like, when I was a kid, my parents were never in the best financial situation. I'd never been very rich, until recently when my Mum got a job at this massive hotel."

He bites his lip and I watch him, pushing his hair from his forehead.

"It's just... when I was a kid, I didn't get a lot of things I really wanted, which sounds so spoilt of me to say, but I feel like children should be spoilt, just little bit. I had a happy childhood, but I still can't shake the feeling of seeing my Mum cry at the end of her bed because we didn't have enough money to buy dinner that night. It broke me into pieces." He chokes up and stares up at the ceiling, eyes glazed and cheeks shiny. My chest contracts, but I let him continue. "I want to spoil my kids. I want to give them everything they want and have them never see me in a state where I'm broke. They should never see that. They should never have to see their parents so upset."