I lift my eyes.
“It’s you I want. I need to know something though. Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” I mumble, not sure whether I want to hear it.
“Do you still love him?”
The air disappears from my lungs as if punched. I shouldn’t be surprised; this man is a bulldozer. He never shies away from awkward situations.
“It’s all right if you do,” he adds. “But I need to know where I stand in all of this. There are feelings swirling around my body that I’ve never felt before. You’ve got me, Amy Corrigan.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve never stopped long enough to think about it. Part of me always assumed I would. But thepain he caused me in leaving is unforgivable. I’ve never felt so worthless.”
“Do you know why he left?” he asks.
I freeze. We haven’t discussed this.
“Because I can’t have children,” I say quietly. “He left me to start a family.”
Ivan’s face falls, and I snap my eyes away, embarrassed.
“Is that a deal breaker for you too?” All of a sudden, I feel defensive. The words spill hot and fast. “Does the idea that I’m not able to do the simplest process a woman should do repulse you? Does it make me lacking in your eyes too?”
Tears fill my eyes as the familiar shame washes over me. I hate myself for failing in so many areas of my life, but this one hurts most.
Ivan steps forward, wrapping his arms around me. His embrace is firm, certain, a shelter I so desperately want.
“Amy,” he whispers into my hair. “Why would your ability to have children have anything to do with the future I want with you? I want to be with you. Children aren’t a deal maker or breaker. All I want is for you to want me. Everything else, we can figure out.”
I look up at him.
“I’ve fallen hard for you, Amy. This is new territory for me. Please don’t break my heart.”
Chapter thirty-four
Terry
Ben cradles Bailey in his arms. He’s fast asleep, snuggled in baby blue blankets. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” my old friend says. “I can’t believe my children used to be this small. Where does the time go?”
I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or himself. His gaze is fixed on my son?he’s mesmerized by the sleeping baby. For all his faults, Ben is and always has been an incredible father.
“How are things going with you and Abigail?” he asks.
“As well as you can expect them to be going,” I mumble. “Going fucking nowhere.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re not together,” I tell him. “She says she doesn’t find me attractive in that way. She wants us to be platonic friends and raise our son together. As a team.”
I hold my hands up to signal quotation marks as I mimic her words. He looks at me and his lips thin, but he volunteers no opinion on my situation. He probably thinks I deserve it.
The silence stretches for a few beats, heavy judgment simmering beneath his calm exterior. Things haven’t worked out as I hoped they would. Karma is biting hard.
“And how does that work when you live together?” He gives me a curious look. I hate when he does that: watches your every move. You always feel as though he’s assessing you to be diagnosed. It must be a doctor thing. “I imagine it’s difficult, to say the least. Do you want to try to have a physical relationship with her? She is the mother of your son, after all.”
Relieved to have someone to talk to about this, a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying eases. Ben is one of my oldest friends. We’ve had our ups and downs, but he’s the closest thing to a brother I have.
Since I left Amy, our friendship has been fragile. A glass barrier between us, ready to crack, shatter even.
