Davis' P.O.V.
I was still shocked that Lisa had interrupted my grilling of Jared. I was having my fun at his expense, but he really shouldn't have been kissing Izzy before dating her. He should have talked to me first. She was my only baby girl, at least until Lisa and I have a child.
What was really gnawing at my brain as I drove was whatever Lisa wanted to talk about. Did I do something wrong? Did she? Was it her father again? Have Chris and Daniel popped back up after everything? Surely they weren’tthatstupid, were they?
I wanted to race home, but there was no point in getting there before Lisa. I kept my pace with her speed, trying to ensure that we got home at the same time. Getting there before her and having to wait seemed like a more miserable time than just riding slower.
It felt like an eternity with my tormenting thoughts until we arrived home a minute apart. I opened her car door for her, allowing her to step out. That was when I noticed her eyes were pinker than usual. She'd been crying and I immediately tensed.
**Song suggestion: Lost Without You by Freya Ridings**
"Who made you cry?" I asked her a bit too harshly as my anger rose at the thought of someone hurting her.
"No one, well, not really," she sighed. "Come on, let's sit down first."
She walked away, but I grabbed her wrist, crashing her into my chest. I wanted answersnow. The ride over was long enough. Screw sitting down.
"Tell me here, Lisa. I can't take much more of this waiting." She let out a long breath like this was the hardest thing she has had to do. "What's going on?"
"You know how I had that doctor's appointment today?" she started with her eyes on the ground.
I swear to God! If she said she has cancer; I was burning the universe down and starting over.
"Yes, I recall."
"She told me that my fallopian tubes are blocked." She seems ready to cry, but I was obviously missing something here.
"What does that mean?" I asked, trying to figure out why she looked ready to break.
My words made her cry, sob, actually. All I could do was hold her close as she did. She shook her head against me before she pulled back just a little.
"It means I can’t have your kids." She collected herself enough to talk through her tears. "Because of what happened two years ago, I can’t have your kids."
She cried more as she said it and I think I heard my heart shatter as if it was made of glass this whole time.I was a fucking idiot.She had been wanting a baby. She deserved a baby. Yet she couldn’t have one. I held her closer, letting her tears soak my shirt, rubbing her back gently as I rocked her.
What the hell do I say?
Surely I could tell her that there was more than one way to be a mother, but was that really what she would want to hear? What if I say screw it, we don't need kids, anyway? Would that hurt her more?
God, what do I do?
"I love you, Lisa. No matter what, I love you. I am sorry. I know how much you wanted to have a baby." My arms squeeze, pressing her closer to me, if that was even possible. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. Whatever you want to do, we can do it. No kids, IVF, adopt kids, take in all the strays of the world, or hire a damn surrogate. Whatever it is, we'll do it."
I meant every word I said. Whatever it took, whatever she wanted, I would make it happen. She nodded her head against my chest, but continued to cry. No one died, but she was mourning. Mourning the fact that she couldn’t have children. Mourning the loss of being able to grow a life inside of her. As a male, I would never understand the bond a mother forms as she grows the child she would raise, but I understand enough to know that it was very special. Lisa knows that and now she wouldn’t get to experience it.
If there was anything I could do to make this better, I'd do it in a heartbeat. All I could do for now was let her mourn while I held her tight. I picked her up, carefully carrying her to our room. It was going to be okay.
I would make sure of it.
"I'm here, Lisa. Whatever you need, I am here."
"Thank you," she whispered so lightly I barely heard it.
I laid her on our bed and crawled in next to her, pulling her close to my chest again as I rubbed her back aimlessly. Eventually, her crying stopped and her breathing eased.
“This is my fault, Davis.” Her voice was low, straining my ears to hear it even in the dead silence of our room.
“Don’t say that, Lisa. There’s no way this could ever be your fault.”
