“It’s not a sad fate.” He cupped her jaw and smiled as if this wasn’t the most disturbing thing to exit his mouth. “I’m home. My story found its end. Dying beside you is not something to mourn. I’m the last of my kind. My brethren all died in pain at my hands. I am the last son of hell. The world will be a better place without my kind, and it’s poetic that I should die by my own hand like the rest of my siblings. Only my ending will be peaceful and filled with love. That isn’t a fate to be feared. Living without you is. Waking up decades after you’re gone to realize I’ve forgotten the small details I used to cherish. That’s a hell I can’t face.”
“I…” Bel’s voice faltered. “I guess I can understand that.” Because she could. She’d been young when she lost her mom, and now that she was thirty-five, her memories were hazy and unrefined, the details she retained mostly from her sisters’ stories. She was all too familiar with how memory betrayed everyone in the end, so she understood why Eamon couldn’t face the promise of centuries spent alone.
“But what I don’t understand is how dying alongside me when I’m ninety—because I intend on living that long—means that we can’t adopt.” Bel gripped his wrists and pulled his hands from her face.
“Because if we have kids, I won’t be able to leave them,” he said. “I’d have to stay. I’d have to watch over our children, their children, and their children’s children. I couldn’t leave themalone in this world. I’d feel obligated to protect them, to watch over our descendants even if they weren’t biologically ours, so I’d be doomed to spend eternity forgetting your face, your laugh, your every mole and wrinkle and wayward hair. I’d be doomed to watch our family grow old and die over and over again, all while forgetting everything I loved about you, and I can’t do that. Don’t make me do that.”
“So, that’s it.” Bel stepped backward to break their connection. “You’ve just decided for us?”
“Isobel…”
“But what if I want kids? What if they’re something I can’t live without? You’re not even willing to talk about it?”
“I can’t do it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and she almost grabbed his wrists and yanked them out of the fabric. He always found ways to remain connected to her, but his stance was a clear declaration that he wouldn’t reach out again. “I don’t want kids. I’ll never want them. You have a happy family, but children mean death and pain and anger for me. We’ve known each other for a year now. You’ve never mentioned them. I didn’t think this would be an issue.”
“I…” Bel trailed off, because was his refusal to have children the problem, or was it the fact that once again, he’d decided their future for them? “I don’t know.” She rubbed her temples to ward off the oncoming headache. “I just didn’t expect this to become a conversation this weekend.”
“We don’t have to talk about it now.” He removed a hand from his pocket and extended it to her, and with an internal sigh of relief, she took the offering.
“It just seems like you won’t talk about it ever,” she said. “It seems you’ve already decided.”
“I don’t want kids, Isobel. I never have, and perhaps I should’ve told you sooner.” He studied her face to gauge her emotions, but in truth, she didn’t even know how to process thisnews. Was it a problem? Did she want kids? Or did she just like the idea of kids? Or did she simply expect that they were her future because she came from a large family?
“If you really want to be a mom, I’ll understand that this is a deal breaker, but I can’t do it. It was hard enough to watch the centuries be born and die. I can’t do that with our children.”
“Can we put a pin in this?” Only a few months ago, she’d stormed his proverbial castle to demand he never leave her. She didn’t want to talk about deal breakers, not during a weekend where they were supposed to be celebrating. “My family’s here. It’s my birthday. We’re in a good place in our relationship. I don’t want to discuss things that might end us.”
“You think this could end us?” His entire body went as still as his last name.
“No.” The fear of that question forced her forehead against his chest, and breath reanimated his lungs as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I’m just upset, and I’m not sure how to process this information. No kids, and you plan to kill yourself when I die? How did you expect me to respond?”
“Sorry for the bad timing.”
“Let’s get back to my family before they think we’re fighting.” She pulled away from him, her insides churning.
“Isobel.” Eamon caressed her cheek. “This is clearly bothering you.”
“Yeah, well…” She sighed with a helpless shrug. “I just need time to figure out how I feel.”
“I love you; you know? I’m not doing this to hurt you, but I won’t lie.”
“I know.”
He stared at her as if he didn’t believe her.
“I love you too,” she finally said as she laced her fingers through his for their return to the group.
“Please don’t ever stop.” He pulled her against his side. “I can’t live without you.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I have the ability to stop loving you.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Even if we break up, I’ll still love you. Nothing will ever change that.”
“Hey, everything okay?”Briar asked as she slid her son into his highchair. “You seem off.”
“I’m fine,” Bel brushed off her sister’s concern. Her family was scheduled to leave after brunch, and she wanted to enjoy the meal without her siblings weighing in on whether Eamon’s revelation would prove an irreconcilable difference.
“I saw you and Eamon talking yesterday,” Briar pushed, and Bel wished that just once in her life, her family would choose the less intelligent path and grow unobservant. “Did he say something?”
“We’re fine,” Bel insisted as Eamon slid a plate overflowing with bacon onto the table. He and her father had taken it upon themselves to cook, and the brunch spread looked more like a luxury hotel’s breakfast than her boyfriend’s dining room.
