A Life Without Donut Holes

She can feel her heart pounding. Under nervous, knotted brows, Claire’s eyes are glued to a box of untouched donut holes sitting on an oak-top kitchen bar. The frosted pastries stare mutely back as she takes a shallow breath and admits a truth that could ruin everything, “Ethan, I don’t want donut holes.” 

There’s a stale, drawn-out pause. Tentatively, she peeks up to see his reaction. Surprised and confusion sweep across his face. She can see his mind processing behind his dark lashes and dancing caramel eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Ethan’s gaze settles on her and relaxes into a compassionate air when he responds, “That’s okay, Claire. It’s not like you have to want them right now. You can always change your mind.”

Her muscles tense, flinching at the wrongness of those words. 

The sudden turn of mood is a stark contrast to her laughing niece and nephew roughhousing in the living room, just within earshot.

“You’re not hearing me.” She exhales deeply. “Ethan, I don’t want…donut holes…ever.” 

She knew this unavoidable conversation had been creeping closer, she just wasn't expecting to have it here, not now.

“I’ve felt this way for years now and the feeling hasn’t changed. I love my time, my career, my financial freedom, the ability to pick up and leave any weekend I want. And it’s not because I don’t like them. I love these two,” her sweeping arm gestures to the now cartwheeling kids. 

“I seriously love being an auntie. I just,” she closes her eyes for a moment and sighs, “don’t want my own.” 

Moments earlier, her rosy-cheeked niece had been rolling across the room in somersaults, yelling “I’m a donut hole!” And in Ethan’s joking reply, she'd heard the more serious implication, “We could make some pretty cute donut holes someday.” 

She could have innocently laughed along, made light of the joke and continued on with their merry day. But, she’d made that mistake more once before. She’d let the dream take root, it had inevitably imploded and she’d ended up alone, not worthy enough and covered in a blanket of tear-soaked tissues. 

Her stomach is churning when she cautiously opens her lids. Beneath dark waves of hair, he wears a contemplative - but otherwise neutral - expression. 

“You don’t want them…ever.” His dark brows raise, “you’d be genuinely happy with it just being…” 

Abruptly, two small, giggling bodies dash through the kitchen. Claire reaches out and musses a nest of tangled hair before the pair roars back out as quickly as they came, leaving in a wake of giddy energy. 

Two pools of golden brown are still staring at her. Without breaking eye contact, Claire reaches past the box of donut holes to gently place a finger on two full-sized donuts. She nudges them together to touch in the middle. A sad smile tugs at her lips as she silently nods. 

“Claire,” he breathes her name so tenderly, so softly, that she can tell a gut punch is coming next. This is the moment when the end begins. When all the shared laughter, soft kisses and whispered promises will evaporate into thin air. And she’ll be left alone again. Because she’s not enough again.

So, instead of waiting for the hit, she beats him to it. 

“Listen, this is not something that's a negotiation for me. I’m not going to change my mind and please understand it has nothing to do with you at all. It’s a personal choice I made for myself a while ago. And if that’s not something you can live with, I completely understand. Truly, I do.” Her restless fingers have absently started folding, unfolding and re-folding a napkin. 

“And if that’s the case, we don’t have to draw this out in a slow death when we both know where it’ll eventually end up anyway. I just…you deserve donut holes if that’s what’ll make you happy and I’m never going to open a bakery, so...”

A forceful huff of air that resembles a laugh escapes her lips at her weak attempt to lighten the mood with the word play.

Creases cover the napkin she’s still obsessively folding when a gentle, calloused hand reaches across the table to settle over hers. 

Those sympathetic, caramel eyes somehow convince her fingers to relax when he responds, “Claire, I don’t want donut holes either.” 

The world freezes and her jaw drops in utter shock. 

“What do you mean? You literally just said we’d make the cutest…”

“I’m so sorry Claire, I swear to God that was a meaningless joke and I don’t even know why I said it. That was my bad.”

He reaches a hand up and runs it through dark locks of hair. 

“I didn’t mean anything serious by it, I promise I didn't mean it as a loaded comment.” 

A childish shriek pierces the air and both their heads whip towards the living room. 

“Kids who pull hair don’t get donuts!” Claire calls out, watching her nephew immediately release a handful of his sister’s hair. 

She sighs with a gentle shake of her head and returns to meet Ethan’s gaze. 

“Claire,” he continues quietly, dropping his eyes to the creased napkin lying on the table, “the entire time you were just explaining why you don’t want donut holes, all I was hearing was all my own exact thoughts and feelings, repeated back to me through your voice.” 

When he lifts his eyes to meet hers, she realizes she’s barely been breathing.

A flicker of hope ignites in her chest, when she responds, “are you absolutely sure? The last guy I seriously dated ended up wanting…more than I can offer. I need you to be a hundred percent certain.” 

His reassuring smile and nod fan the flicker into a flame, heating her from the inside. 

“We’re on the same page, Claire. As long as I have you, I’m more than happy with a life without donut holes.” 

Tears are pricking her eyes when she reaches across the table and pulls him into a crushing hug. The embrace is a surreal relief, like she'd been holding her breath her entire life and is finally just now exhaling.

“I love you, Ethan,” she whispers. 

“I love you, Claire. And you’ll always be enough for me,” he murmurs back.  

She leans back, her radiant smile matching his, the moment before a knock sounds at the door. 

“Mommyyyyyyy,” ring out twin squeals before the patter of feet running to the door. 

Claire rises to open the door as her sister breezes in. 

“Hello, my little munchkins,” she smiles, crouching to their level and wrapping the two in a hug. 

Still embracing them, she looks up to Claire she raises an eyebrow, asking, “how were these little ones?” 

“They were perfect, as always,” Claire smiles before the pair runs back to the living room to resume their interrupted play. 

“Thanks for watching them, I really needed this morning. Just wait ’til you have your own, you’ll totally get it!”

Claire sneaks a a glance at Ethan, who flashes a knowing smile before picking up a donut and lifting it in a “cheers” motion at her. 

And in this moment, Claire thinks a full-sized donut has never looked so good.