On an Impulse

"Did you and Julia ever date?" She barreled ahead upon seeing Ultan's shock. "Jo didn't tell me that; I guessed. I saw the way you were looking at her at the wedding. It was... pained... but pained in a special way, if that makes sense."

"That makes a tonne of sense," Ultan acknowledged. "People always told me I was transparent but I didn't think it was that bad. Julia was a model and we worked together a few times, and you can guess the rest. I thought she was the one, but then again, I was never very good at reading people."

Samaira warmly rubbed his arm in sympathy, which was when she felt it—a raindrop so fat it splooshed off her forearm and onto Ultan's. He immediately looked down at the creek to calculate how quickly the rain would fall, then glanced up at the angry clouds in the sky.

"We don't have a lot of time," he said, easing his camera into its case, then grabbing Samaira's arm and leading her off the bridge. "See that giant maple over there?" The only large tree in the area had clearly been growing there for a minimum of 50 years, and its branches sheltered them from the storm better than Samaira expected.

"For what it's worth," she leaned over to Ultan while he observed the cascading water like he was seeing it for the first time, "it was her loss." And for the first time, he looked directly into Samaira's eyes, comfortably holding her gaze for several seconds.

But when he leaned down and kissed her, she startled them both by flinching.

"Did I do something wrong?" Ultan asked, an expression of wariness and fear playing on his face.

"No, no," Samaira held his fingers. "You're so dear I can't even believe you exist. Ultan, I think you should know a few things about me before we get too ahead of ourselves. I've been married twice." Many moments passed, during which the only sound was the showers around them.

"Okay."

"And I never want to get married again." Again with the silence, Samaira rued, searching Ultan's blank face. What are you thinking?

"Alright. I..."

Here it comes. He's going to tell me we'd be better off as friends.

"...I don't remember asking you to marry me?"

The response was so unexpected that Samaira laughed, too relieved to speculate why this man wasn't scared off by her baggage the way others usually were.

"I'm sorry, but why did you need to tell me all that?" Ultan asked, genuine confusion in his eyes. "How is it connected to..." he looked down shyly at his camera, "...to how much I like you?"

Because other men have stopped liking me when they found out later in the game, Samaira thought. This man, however, lightened her heart every time she saw him.

"You're right, it's irrelevant," she said out loud. "I just needed to get that off my chest. I wanted you to know because I really like you as well." His smile prompted her to drop another kiss on his cheek. "Now come on," she ordered. "We can't stay under this tree forever, and I know that camera case is waterproof. Your house is five minutes away."

"No," Ultan shook his head. "I don't have windshield wipers on my glasses." Samaira stepped out from under the leaves that hung over them and let the light sheets of rain drench her.

"Come on, the water's like soup!" she twirled around.

"What kind, gazpacho?" Ultan retorted.

As she laughed and pulled him out from under the tree, the thought flashed through Samaira's mind whether her t-shirt would become see-through when wet. Too late now, she figured, glancing down at her peach-coloured bra without letting go of Ultan's hand. She moved a violet tendril off her face, grabbed his collar on an impulse and kissed him again.

This time, he surprised her, cupping her face with both of his hands and hungrily taking her lips between his. He drank in kisses from her until Samaira's cheeks ached and she gulped air as they broke apart.

What just happened? she hazily asked herself as he took her hand and led her back up the gravel pathway, her steps uneven and wobbly.

"I know it's only our first date," Ultan said as he unlocked his back door, which was shielded from direct view beneath a canopy. "But I'm going to have to ask you to take your clothes off." He gave her a quick wink before whipping off his polo shirt and unzipping his jeans. Samaira gaped in disbelief that this was the same man who, up until 10 minutes ago, wouldn't even look her in the eye.

"I won't stare, I promise," he continued, his boxers the only piece of clothing on his lean form. "I'll go inside and get you a blanket. It's just easier if we let everything drip out here."

Minutes later, one of Ultan's brand-new Redundant Contraption t-shirts was hanging down to Samaira's thighs, peeking out from beneath a fleece blanket. A blanket she clutched for dear life as she surveyed her bra and panties flapping around on the clothesline outside.

Ultan was in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, coming into the living room with a tonne of pillows and blankets. Samaira dried her hair against the breeze of the standing fan in the corner, watching curiously as he pulled chairs from the dining table and placed them by the couch.

He's building a fort, she realised, still pondering the about-face of how suddenly he came out of his shell that afternoon. He's either the quirkiest person I've ever met, or I'm in danger. As if he could hear her thoughts, Ultan stopped and turned toward her.

"I... I always do this when it rains hard," he explained. "You look good in my clothes, by the way," he added, his mouth curving upward in the corners. He wedged the last pillow in place and went to the kitchen to put on some tea. Minutes later, they were tucked under the blankets inside the pillow fort, watching MASH episodes through the open side facing the TV.

It was the coziest Samaira had ever felt, save for when she and Aalia slept in the same bed after they were on their own. Both times.

"So who grows up in England but then decides to move to a southern Ontario suburb?" Ultan asked when the first episode's credits started rolling. Samaira wrinkled her nose. "Come on, I want to know all about these husbands of yours." He moved to wrap his left arm around her, and she was happy to let him.

"If you did the math," she quietly started, "you'd know I had my daughter, Aalia, when I was 24. We lost her dad in a car accident when she was five."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Ultan said.

"Four years later, I married my now ex-husband, and I thought that was going to be it. He had kids, I had Aalia. It felt like we could be a nicely blended family. The thing was..." Samaira looked up at Ultan and saw he was peering intently at her face now. She briefly pondered what the catalyst for the sudden change in his demeanour could have been.

"...Aalia's dad had a sizable life insurance policy that tripled if his death was accidental. I had one too. It was a backup plan we thought we'd never use. I didn't need the payout since my job could support us both, so I put it in a trust for Aalia's education.

"When she started Form 3—I think that would be about eighth grade here?—my ex's kids were a few years older. He wanted to split the trust three ways and use that money to fund his kids' educations as well."

"That... I don't know what I don't like about that," Ultan said.

"I felt that way too. My ex kept saying we're a family now and we should share everything, but at the end of the day, we only had the trust because Aalia's dad died for that money." Samaira absentmindedly rested her head on Ultan's shoulder, her comfort level with him betraying the brief period of time they'd known each other.

"So things decayed from there," she continued. "Somewhere in waiting for the divorce to finalise, I just got sick of living in the same place where I'd lost so much. Aalia felt the same way. I was a dual citizen so we shifted to Ajax, where my mother was raised."

"Do you miss it? England, I mean," Ultan asked. His heart beat against her chin like the softest bass pedal. "People calling those sweet baked goods biscuits instead of cookies? And addressing each other as guv'nah all the time?" Samaira chuckled.

"I suppose I'm going to hear a lot of that from you, huh?" She looked up into his sparkling green eyes and resisted the urge to kiss him again before answering his question. "I miss it sometimes, but what I like better about the Toronto area is that everyone came from somewhere else, except Indigenous peoples.

"There are some core memories I have growing up in England where even my school chums had bigoted notions ingrained in them. Their families were around since King Arthur, apparently, and mine was from a place forever mired in poverty—ironically caused by their ancestors. I just hated how many times I was surprised by people I respected, who defended imperialism and racism."

She'd been playing with Ultan's fingers while talking but then glanced at his face, worried she'd said too much. But he didn't seem to mind.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rant," she apologised, shifting her weight away from him. "It's probably not something you'd understand." Ultan simply readjusted his arm beneath her waist and pulled her close again.

"Oh, I understand," he nodded as though he were remembering something. "I'm from Northern Ireland, Samaira. My parents immigrated here when my sister was a toddler, just before I was born. My grandparents were big supporters of the IRA."

"Oh wow, you do understand," Samaira's eyes widened.

"Of course, we never had the problems you did because we were white and on Team Jesus," Ultan went on. "But I would be lying if I told you we don't have a week-long party whenever a member of the royal family kicks the can."

Samaira smiled, but still felt somewhat reticent. Then she remembered Jo telling her she could say anything around Ultan without worrying about him getting offended. She decided to test it out.

"Do you think there's such thing as racism against white folks?"

"Uhh... there could be," Ultan looked at the ceiling, not noticing Samaira's face fall. "But only if 600 years ago people from Asia, Africa, and the Americas invaded Europe. And then stole white people to work in their fields, and then extracted resources and wealth so that European countries were destitute for hundreds of years.

"And after that, if people of colour created systems to make it extra hard for white people to get ahead when they moved to richer places like Asia and Africa. And then if they made fun of European immigrants' food and clothes and skin colour, then yes, under those circumstances, there could be such thing as racism against white people."

Ultan was still looking at the ceiling while spitballing his alternate universe, so he didn't register the stunned expression on Samaira's face. She didn't know whether she wanted kiss him or explode in laughter, but what she did know was that she didn't have to censor her feelings with him.

I found a bloody unicorn, she thought incredulously. He's funny, a gentleman, successful, open-minded... and I can't believe we have the same values. Her mind flashed back to when he stripped down in the backyard. Ohhhh, and he looks incredible wearing just his boxers. How is he still single?

"I got the wrong answer, didn't I?" he asked, snapping Samaira's attention back. "What's the right answer?"

"No," she stumbled. "No, you... you got the right answer, but it was in a way I'd never considered. I'm just really impressed by you, Ultan."

He knows I'm not wearing a stitch except his shirt but he hasn't tried to touch me. Well, except for that comfortable arm around her waist, which felt like it had grown there. Samaira looked up at the errant red undertones in Ultan's otherwise brown spikes and then into his olive eyes behind his glasses—not that he noticed because he was engrossed in the next episode of MASH.

Neither his quirky personality nor his (deliberate?) lack of game were anything she'd been used to before, and she definitely wasn't used to being the pursuer. But maybe he was just reserved, she reasoned as her fingers tentatively crept toward the hem of his shirt.

"Oh, I bet everything's done dripping in the backyard," Ultan leapt to his feet, tossing off the blanket and Samaira's hand. "I swear, the best feeling ever is wearing something when it's right out of the dryer. Hey, do you want another tea?"

She slowly shook her head out of confusion, but she was less confused when Ultan came back a few minutes later with her clothes neatly folded.

He was right about the dryer, though, she admitted while slipping her bra and panties back on in the bathroom. But this isn't exactly how I thought my chaach would be radiating heat right about now. Glancing up into the mirror and catching sight of the cellulite on her thighs and slightly loose skin across her cinched waist, she winced.

Stupid, stupid girl, Samaira chided herself while wondering if the natural shadows around her eyes had always appeared so dark. Of course he's being so polite. He's 36. He could still have a family with someone 10 years younger than you, and you'd best remember that. She braced her hands on either side of the pedestal sink.

You're at different stages in life. You've already done the marriage and family thing, and he hasn't. He'll want to. Then she shook her head at herself and buttoned her jean shorts.

All of which is moot since he was decidedly uninterested in touching you just now. Her mind floated to the kiss they'd shared in the rain merely an hour ago, where he'd not only captured her mouth but devoured it. But it presented itself differently now. It was nothing. It was only a kiss, you silly ass.

"You know what, I'm going to head off now," she announced, drawing up some faux confidence upon emerging from the powder room.

"You're not having a good time?" Ultan asked, worried. He put down the teabag strainer and turned around from where he stood at the kitchen counter. "Ohhhh, I'm making the tea wrong, aren't I?" He cringed. "Right, you're from the place that's known for tea—mainly because they stole it from everywhere else—but yeah, you should be showing me how—"

"The tea was lovely, Ultan," Samaira gently interrupted, "but I don't think it's going to work out between us." Several beats passed as Ultan studied her face.

"Oh." He nodded. "Right. I probably should have taken you out for dinner or something normal instead of... looking at snails in the park."

"No," Samaira said, perplexed. Did he think she wasn't into him? It was surely the other way around. "No... today was lovely. I've never had such a relaxing or easy first date in my life. I just thought I should leave because you..." She looked down at her bare toes, embarrassed that she had to explain this. "I mean, you could do so much better, right?"

"If you knew anything about me, you'd know I can't," Ultan deadpanned.

"Don't you want to get married or have kids? Or at least be with someone younger?"

"Samaira, where is all this coming from? Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?"

"You know exactly how wonderful I think you are. You didn't do anything wrong. I just don't understand why you... I was lying in your arms for the last hour wearing next to nothing and you didn't... you didn't try anything, and I thought maybe you didn't find me attractive." Ultan's eyebrows shot up, but she continued. "But then the way you kissed me in the ravine... I just don't understand the mixed signals."

The events of the day flashed through Ultan's head, and he quickly analysed his conduct throughout.

I only kissed her harder after she kissed me, he thought. Did she want me to grope her when she's stuck in my house without clothes on? When she didn't indicate she wanted me to?

"Samaira," he started. "It's our first day together and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I loved holding you, though. And I thought that was the furthest we should go because I don't want to ruin this.

"Do I want to have sex with you?" he went on pondering out loud, not seeing her jaw drop. "Of course. Yes. I wanted to have sex with you during the reception in that little room as soon as your fingers touched my back. You're by far the most stunning woman who's ever taken an interest in—"

His words were swallowed when Samaira's lips enveloped his as she backed him up against the kitchen wall and slipped her hands beneath his shirt. These were the clear instructions he was looking for.

Ultan put his glasses on the granite counter, then took Samaira's face in his hands and kissed her deep and hard. Probing her mouth with more fire than he had when they were by the maple tree, he walked her backward toward the pillow fort, pulled her inside, and drew the blankets up.

"You're sure about this?" Samaira breathed as she relished Ultan's mouth on her neck. "My clothes cover up my flaws and you might think—"

"Why do you keep doing that?" he stopped and looked at her curiously, propped up on his elbows as she lay on her back between them. "You did that in the ravine as well."

"Do... do what?"

"Say things that you think will scare me away. You told me about being married twice and never wanting to be married again like it was a warning. Just now you were about to leave when neither of us wanted that because why? You assumed my goal was a wife and kids and a white, picket fence?" Samaira didn't know what to think, except that no one had ever called out her insecurities with such candor.

"I don't want kids. I love my niece and nephew, and I watch them whenever my sister and her wife run errands for a few hours, but I don't want my own. I think having kids should be an opt-in, not the default."

"...Oh."

"And the only reason I'm not sure about this is because I want a relationship with you much, much more than I want to have sex with you today. Is that... is that something you'd want with me?"

Samaira nodded, lacing her fingers through his chestnut spikes.

"Would we ruin anything if we did this right now?"

She smiled and shook her head no.

"You're not going to think I'm a slut for putting out on the first date?" Ultan grinned.

"An introverted slut seems like a bit of an oxymoron," she laughed.

Samaira pulled his face onto hers, sighing as he shrouded her lips in his. She hadn't felt this heady since falling in love for the first time when she was in high school, giggling while she slid Ultan's t-shirt off and then whipped off her own.

She stared blankly at the ceiling of the blanket fort while Ultan gently gnawed at her left nipple after slipping her bra strap off her shoulder. Then, he stopped.

"Dammit, we can't do this," he mumbled while his nose rested on her clavicle. "I... I didn't think this is where we'd be today so I didn't get any protection."

"You're not the kind of guy who carries a condom in his wallet at all times?"

"What, just to watch it expire?" Ultan loved feeling Samaira's chest bob as she guffawed.

"Well, here's where I get self-conscious again," she said, running her fingers along his neck. He held her hand still, finding himself unable to concentrate while she stroked that erogenous zone. "What if I told you I've neither had a partner nor a period in almost a year now?" She averted her eyes when his widened.

"This is part of why I feel so old sometimes, although I wouldn't judge another 42-year-old woman in the same way," she rushed on.

"Who was it that judged you all the time?" Ultan pinpointed.

God, how is he able to cut to the quick like that? she wondered.

"My... my ex," she responded when it became clear he wouldn't resume devouring her without an answer. "We seemed good on paper, and I really wanted Aalia to have a dad again. But there was none of..." she gestured to the blanket fort, "...this. There was no magic and fun in life, even in simple things like snails and living room tents. We were just running a house together."