He only felt it because their hands were connected, but tension coursed through her, a minuscule tightening of her muscles.
"I'm not sure that's a great idea right now."
Why not? Jilly was usually so open. He waited to see if she would mention what was bothering her.
"Is it... because of me?" Iris hadn't sounded happy when she'd come upon them playing flag football.
She sighed softly. "It's about me. They haven't told anybody except their closest circle, but my sister and Callum are having a baby."
The words hit somewhere deep inside of him, a pain he'd buried for a very long time. He swallowed hard and squeezed her hand, not sure what he should say.
"It's complicated. I'm happy for her. And I know I shouldn't be jealous"—her voice turned soft—"but I am."
Jilly was jealous about Iris's pregnancy? He didn't get it.
She continued before he had a chance to ask. "I didn't have the capacity to think about it while I was going through the treatments. All I could think was that the same cancer had taken Mom. What if I didn't make it? For a while, I was just relieved to have beaten it. Mom hadn't, but I was still here. But then... I started grieving for the things I lost."
She was trembling a little now. He didn't know if it was from the cold or from sharing her grief with him. He stopped walking and pulled her in close. She folded into his arms, and just like every other time, they fit.
Her chin moved against his shoulder when she spoke again. "I can't have kids. The treatments made me infertile."
Oh, Jilly.
"I'm sorry." He whispered the words in the hair above her ear. Words that were so inadequate. It was like the trite things everyone had said to him after the accident. He knew there was nothing he—or anyone else—could say to make this right for her.
Jilly loved Lindsey and PJ and Casey. She would've loved a child of her own.
It must be terrible to watch her sister go through something she wanted so badly. Iris was getting everything that Jilly had dreamed about.
She laughed a little, and the sound was soggy. "It's silly, right? I'm not even much of a mom. I've made so many mistakes with Casey and PJ and Lindsey. "
"Are you kidding me?" This was one thing he could set her straight on. "You've done amazing things with those kids. Better than I would. Better than probably anybody else. You drive them to their activities and therapy. You cook and clean for them. And when things get rough, they know you love them."
She hugged him tighter, saying nothing.
They stayed like that, tucked together. Somehow sharing her grief relieved some of his. Was this what it was like to have a true partner?
For all the times he felt like he was floundering on this friendship, it was changing his life. Today, he had hoped to keep Jilly and the kids at his place for an hour. It had turned into an all-day affair and, by far, been one of the best days of his life.
But tomorrow, it was back to business as usual. He'd only have Jilly in snatches. It was way more than he deserved.
Could he be happy with that, now that he had a taste of something more?
