When I spoke my voice was trembling. “You’re afraid I’m going to get pregnant again.”
He abruptly stood up from the bed and went into his closet. When he came out, he was dressed in pajama pants and a T-shirt. I hadn’t moved. And when we looked at each other, I knew that I had hit the nail right on the head. He didn’t deny it.
My breath rushed out of my lungs and I wasn’t certain I’d be able to draw another.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Adam
I watched as her face clouded, like a storm suddenly sweeping overland. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked. But I had no words. And even if I had them, what could I say? She was absolutely right. I was fucking terrified to touch her. The thought that I might get her pregnant again not only petrified me, it made me nauseous.
Finally I looked away. I couldn’t watch as her heart broke—and know that I was the cause, however unconsciously.
The silence in that room was deafening—like a distant ringing that buzzed in my ears. I looked back at her. Her eyes were damp, focused somewhere in the middle distance between us. I clenched my jaw. There was nothing I could say right now to comfort her. And part of me didn’t even want to. This was the harsh reality of what she had tried to avoid earlier—when she’d insisted over and over again that she was fine, that she was tough, that she could get over this by herself.
It was best this came out now. But I honestly had no idea how we could possibly resolve it.
Suddenly she stiffened, as if she was tired of waiting for me to say something. Biting her lip, she stood up. “I’ll go sleep in my room,” she said in a shaky, quiet voice.
I watched her go and I didn’t move a muscle.
The minute she disappeared into her bedroom, I ran a hand through my hair and began to pace. My mind whirred through everything that had just happened, every thought that went through my head. The moment that everything had snapped for me—that minute when I thought she was going to initiate sex without even a thought about the lack of birth control.
Things slipped her mind a lot these days. She’d forget things or do things she’d just done over again without realizing it. It was a side effect of the drugs she’d been on. I could have just as easily attributed that to this—her almost starting sex without even thinking about a condom.
But it had been reckless, dangerous. It could have killed her.
I could have killed her. Or brought her cancer back. Just by having sex with her. Just by getting her pregnant again.
I buried my face in my hands, a sense of helplessness smothering me. Then, I heard her walk down the hallway toward the stairs. I could let her go, or we could talk this out. I could convince her that she needed to talk to someone.
And who knows, maybe I did, too.
Because goddamn. The weight of our baggage was finally beginning to bury me and I could see no way out except to suffocate under it.
I moved to the stairs, half the length of the stairway behind her, calmly following her. She had changed from the silky nightshirt into some yoga pants and a T-shirt. Turning her head slightly, she seemed aware that I was behind her but did not speed up to avoid me as she moved to the side door, opening it and leaving it ajar for me to follow her.
As I was still approaching the water’s edge, I saw her sit down in the sand and hug her knees to her, burying her face against them. When I got closer, I could hear her quiet, weak sobs. Each one sliced right through me. I stood inches from the spot where, a few months ago, I’d kissed her so tenderly, where she’d questioned our future. I had silenced her then, so intent on one thing and one thing only—her survival.
Perhaps that moment had cost us our survival as a couple. I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling thick. I had no idea what I could say to her. So I let her cry until she calmed down. I slowly sank to the sand a short distance from her.
Finally, after an endless period of hearing nothing but her sobs, she quieted, rubbing her cheeks against her pant legs. Wearily she lifted her head and with a sniff and a hiccup, she spoke in a quiet voice. “I should go,” she said. “I should let you get on with your life.”
That tightness in my throat threatened to strangle me. Because I was beginning to think that maybe that was the only solution to this.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mia
I waited in the weighted tension between us for him to respond. And as each second stretched on, it became more likely that he’d agree with me—that I should go. That this was the only solution for us. And that scared me most of all.
I’d finally had the cry that I’d been craving since that afternoon—since Alex’s pronouncement that Adam and I would only have one child and one child only. Because I knew—and he knew—that we’d already endured that secret, shameful loss. All I could feel was this void, like my chest had been ripped open, my eyes sore and my head aching. I breathed again, those painful, shallow breaths. I should let you get on with your life…