“We knew you were upset last night, and we’ve noticed things seem stressed between you two,” Theo explains.
“We have tried to respect your privacy,” Galen adds. “But we realize now we made a mistake. We shouldn’t have let it get this far. You’re both upset, and this impacts all of us.”
“We’ve always done things together,” Caz says. “And we’ll get through this together.”
I don’t see how, not when I’m the one who needs, wants,craves, to put a baby in her belly, but I keep those thoughts to myself.
We all sit, and I reach out, taking Lo’s hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. “Have I been hurting you?”
Her eyes well up again, and I hate myself in this moment. “Yes,” she softly admits. “I know you don’t mean to. I know you’re just focused on getting me pregnant, but it’s almost like I don’t matter anymore. Like I’m just a baby-making machine, a vessel for you to impregnate, and I can’t even get that right.” Tears spill down her cheeks, and I can hardly talk over the messy ball clogging my throat.
“No, Lo. That’s not who you are to me.” I brush tears off her cheeks. “I want a baby so badly with you. I want a child who is a part of me and a part of you. I want to see if he or she looks more like you or me and whether he or she resembles Bishop or either of our girls. But I don’t want that at the expense of our relationship, because no one or nothing means more to me than you. I’m sorry if my actions have made you doubt that. Doubt me.” I peer into her eyes. “I love you so much. You’re my queen.”
She smiles softly as fresh tears flow from her eyes. “I want to see what our child would look like too. Trust me when I say I want to have our baby as badly as you do. But everything is messed up.” Her chest heaves, and she pauses for a second. Her lower lip trembles. “When was the last time you kissed me, Saint? Or the last time you held me in your arms for no reason other than wanting to feel me close? When was the last time you spontaneously made love to me because you wanted to, not because we were on a schedule?”
I pin her with an incredulous look, because she’s being ridiculous. I know I might have been a bit obsessive about fucking her when she was ovulating, but it’s not like it’s been a chore or that I’ve stopped being affectionate with her. “I kissed you last night when we were in bed,” I tell her.
She shakes her head, sadness washing over her face. “No, you didn’t, Saint. You stripped me and fucked me like I was some nameless, faceless vagina, telling me how perfect the timing was and this was going to be the month. Then you came, and when I didn’t want you to touch me, you made me sit on pillows and wait for fifteen minutes so your sperm could reach my egg.”
My mind revisits last night, and I replay it, scene for scene, dismayed to discover she’s right. How have I been so blind? I go further back, trying to remember the last time I kissed her, and I can’t recall it. I feel sick. She’s right. The guys are right, and I just didn’t see it. I won’t defend myself by mentioning how depressed I’ve been month after month when her period arrived. Or how stressed I’ve been at the thought I might not be able to father children, because making excuses just won’t cut it. There is no acceptable justification for shutting her out. For treating her so coldly. I’m disgusted with myself.
Have I been so obsessed that I’ve forgotten everything she means to me? All that is important?
Theo looks at me with genuine concern, Caz looks shellshocked, and Galen looks like he’s two seconds away from slicing my head off my shoulders. I wouldn’t blame any of them for ripping me a new one. I’ve been so single-minded, so focused on the goal, I’ve lost sight of what matters. I’ve lost sight of my wife, and I haven’t treated her right. I haven’t loved her and cherished her like I vowed to, and I’m full of self-hatred. I’m disgusted I was so wrapped up in my head, in what I wanted and needed, I failed to see how I was hurting her.
Shame smacks into me on all sides, and I hang my head. A tight pain rips across my chest, and intense pressure settles on my shoulders. I have let everyone down, and it’s time to man up and accept responsibility. Lifting my chin, I stare at my beautiful, brave wife. “You’re right, Lo. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
Her arm slides around my back. “I just want my husband back,” she says over a sob. “I just want you to love me and for things to go back to the way they were before.”
That shakes me out of my melancholy. I have never stopped loving her. That’s a virtual impossibility. “Baby.” I hold her face in my hands. “You have always been my queen, and that hasn’t changed. I might have lost my way, but I have never stopped loving you. You’re my world. I’m so sorry for how I’ve been treating you. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” Tears prick my eyes. “I just want a baby with you.” My eyes lower to her flat stomach. “I dream of seeing your belly swollen with my kid. Besides you, it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted this much.”
“I know, honey.” She presses her forehead to mine, and I drop my hands, taking hers. “And I want that too, but I don’t think we’re going to get pregnant if we continue with the regimented routine because it’s stressing me out and making me unhappy.”
“That stops now. I promise.” Her relieved smile loosens some of the knots in my shoulders. “What do you suggest?” I ask, peering into her gorgeous green eyes.
“Let’s drop all the planning and just go back to the way we were. Fucking when we want, not when we have to. Let it happen naturally. We don’t have to rush this.”
“What if it doesn’t happen?” I ask because we might as well get everything out on the table. I’ve been afraid to voice this fear, as if saying the words out loud might make it real. “What if there’s something wrong … with me?”
She flings her arms around me, squeezing me tight. My arms band around her warm body, and a sense of contentment—the kind that’s been missing these past few months— seeps deep into my bones. I hold her tight, closing my eyes, savoring the feel of her pressed against me. “I bet there is nothing wrong other than us trying to force it,” she says after a while, easing back so she’s looking at me. “But if it doesn’t happen by next year, we can talk to a specialist.”
“Okay.” I nod.
Her eyes fill with tears again, and it’s unlike Lo to be so emotional. Maybe she’s … I stop my train of thought because I’ve got to let it go. Nothing is more important to me than my wife. Not even a baby, although it’s everything my heart desires. But making things right with Lo takes precedence. I hate that I’ve hurt her. That I’ve left her feeling like I don’t love her anymore. Rectifying that is all that’s important now.
“Really?” Her eyes spark with hope.
“Yes.” I kiss her cheek. “I want to make it up to you. I can’t promise it will be smooth sailing, but—”
“I know who you are, Saintly.” She cuts across me, smirking, and I can’t remember the last time she took that teasing tone with me. “And I know who I am. I kinda lost my way too, but not anymore. I won’t let you force the agenda.”
“We won’t either,” Galen says. I’d almost forgotten they were there.
“You two should go away next weekend,” Theo suggests. “Take Lo someplace special for your birthday.”
“Would you like that?” I ask, brushing loose strands of hair off her face.
“I would love that.” The dreamy expression on her face unravels the last of the tension in my body.
