“I’ve been working on something. I don’t have the lyrics, but the chords are pretty much done. Just a few tweaks left.”
Fee looks vulnerable right now. I don’t like it. It means something’s wrong.
“I’d love to hear it.”
She nods. Her eyes close, and she strums the guitar. The melody is sweet, soft… hauntingly beautiful. When she finishes, a tear slides down her cheek.
“Fee…”
She puts a fake smile on and lets it fade. “I wrote that for our daughter.”
“Fee, come here,” I encourage. I want to wrap her up in my arms and hold her close.
She shakes her head. “Not yet.”
I turn off the jets and stand, wrapping a towel around my waist. If she won’t come to me, I’ll go to her. I take her hand and lead her to the sitting area in our bedroom.
“Tell me.”
She looks nervous.
“I want to remember our baby girl. I love her and wish we’d had time with her, though that might have hurt worse. I don’t know.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing bad. I promise. I just… she deserves this.”
I nod, rubbing my thumb across her wrist. “She does.”
“A week ago Monday was the day I should have gotten my shot,” her gaze meets mine.
“And you didn’t get it.” It’s not a question.
“I didn’t,” she answers.
“Fee,” I whisper, my heart soaring and aching at the same time. I pull her into my arms and hug her tightly.
“I’m afraid.”
“I know.”
“What if it happens again? What if I can’t get pregnant? What if we never have children?” she rambles, telling me all her worries.
“It won’t happen again. You can get pregnant again, and we will have children. The doctor said it might take a little longer, but that it wasn’t impossible.”
“I know, but…”
“No. Don’t do that. Don’t worry, Fee. Have faith in us,” I remind her.
She nods, her forehead against mine.
“You’re ready to try again,” I say against her lips.
“I am.”
“Then we will. Any worries, we’ll discuss.”
She nods again. “I love you, Cage.”
