Oh, so they’ve tried it before—together, apparently. My stomach tenses into a clump of nerves.
“No. I’m afraid it’s still too early, and I’ll just worry all the more.” Her voice breaks. “I want this baby so much. And Lily’s so excited about being a big sister. She’s had so many losses, and this will break her heart. And Margaret’s.”
“Mine, too,” Zack says.
The lump in my stomach tightens and hardens.
“Really?” Quinn’s voice is soft and surprised and filled with something that sounds like wonder.
“Yeah.”
“Your life would have fewer complications without it.”
“Having fewer complications doesn’t always make life better.”
“It would help your marriage.”
“That’s not an issue,” Zack says.
He might mean our marriage isn’t an issue that affects this problem, but deep down, I know he means more. He means our marriage is dead, over, beyond resuscitation. I’ve known it in my gut for a while now—that’s why I filed for divorce, after all. Our talk tonight confirmed it, but hearing him say it aloud still hits me hard.
What he says next deals an even harsher blow.
“I want you to have my baby.”
The words I’ve longed to hear from him, he’s saying to another woman. I clutch my stomach and rock back and forth.
There was a time when he felt that way about me. But then, things changed.No, I self-correct;I changed. After the second orthird failed IVF procedure, I stopped focusing on creating a family and started obsessing on whether another woman had had his child. I ruined everything loving and good between us with competitiveness and jealousy and bitterness over an imaginary contest.
Zack doesn’t love me anymore, and it’s all my fault.
“We’ll do everything we can to save this pregnancy,” he tells Quinn, “but if it’s not meant to be, well, we’ll try again. I’ll help you give Lily a brother or sister.”
“You will?”
“Yeah.” I imagine her hugging him, or him hugging her. Hell—it would be reciprocal, wouldn’t it? Whoever started it, the other would respond. I realize I’m clutching my chest with one hand, and the other is over my mouth.
“So what’s the final verdict on the ER?” he asks.
“Let’s go,” she says.
“All right! Where are your shoes?”
I take that as a cue to scramble downstairs. I’m sitting on the sofa when Zack and Quinn come down a moment later. She’s wearing yoga pants, a loose gray T-shirt, and flip-flops. He’s wearing a grim, worried expression.
“Thank you so much for coming over and staying with Lily and Margaret,” Quinn tells me.
“No problem,” I say. My throat feels so tight it’s a little hard to get the words out.
“If Lily wakes up, just tell her I’m out with Zack and you’re babysitting, okay?” Quinn says. “There’s no point in worrying her.”
“Sure. What about Margaret?”
“If she wakes up, you can tell her everything.”
I nod. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, Jess.” Zack’s worried frown momentarily softens. It’s the kindest, most personal look he’s given me all evening.
