“You did,” I agree. “And I hurt you too. But the important thing is that my family—Liam included—always loved you, and I never did anything to change that.”
“Huh.” He cocks his head, still frowning. “When he stopped inviting me over, I thought you must have run to him with your problems.”
I gasp, horrified he’d think me capable of such a thing. Seth didn’t have any family living nearby, so for all intents and purposes, my family had been his. Of course I wouldn’t intentionally ruin that.
“I didn’t tell him anything other than that we’d been having trouble for a while, and nobody was unfaithful so he didn’t have to bust any faces. If he stopped calling, it was probably because he thought it would be awkward if you and I accidentally ran into each other at his place. I’m sorry you lost touch. That wasn’t what I wanted to happen.”
Seth stares at me so intensely that I squirm, but I don’t look away. Hopefully he can see whatever he needs to on my face. Eventually, he shakes his head and sighs. “You’re too good for this world.”
“I am not.” I roll my eyes because I’m very much human with plenty of flaws to go around. I mean, if I hadn’t given up, we’d probably still be married. We might even have tidied up the frayed ends of our lives.
“Agree to disagree.”
Raising a hand, I summon the waiter and request a hot chocolate. Seth asks for an espresso, and I resist the urge to point out that it’ll keep him awake for hours. His quality of sleep is none of my business. When we finish our drinks, I insist on splitting the bill, even when his nostrils flare with annoyance. And when he walks me back to my car to make sure I’m safe, I can’t help ogling his broad shoulders as they strain against the fabric of a shirt he probably hasn’t worn in years. One that I bought for him. A coincidence? Or is he trying to remind me of the way things used to be? Whatever the case, it works. My lips yearn for the press of his. But I force myself to step back and maintain the respectful space we need. There’s a lot of history between us, but I’ve become a woman who stands on her own two feet, and giving Seth any hint that I want him would be inviting him to sweep me off them.
Dangerous.
“I’ll see you soon, Seth.”
“See you, Angel.”
8
Seth
It’s the day of Ashlin’s first appointment at the fertility treatment center, and I meet her in front of the building, full of certainty that I’m ready for anything. She marches up to me with a military bearing—something her dad drilled into her at a young age, and which usually only shows when she’s nervous. She comes to a stop a few feet in front of me, and I close the distance between us and smooth my hands over her shoulders. Fuck propriety. She needs support, and I want to give it to her.
“You’ve got this,” I say, ducking to look her in the eye.
Her jaw firms, and she nods. “I’ve got this.”
“I’m with you all the way.” She nods again, and I brush a kiss over her forehead, then step back and take her by the hand. “Let’s make it happen.”
Ten minutes later, I’m less sure we’ve got this.
“She has to do what?” I demand of the doctor, who’s just finished explaining how Ashlin needs to inject herself each day with some kind of hormone thing.
“It’s fine, Seth.” Ashlin’s expression gives nothing away, and my heart aches because I know she’s trying to keep her emotions from me. Most of the time, she’s an open book, but she doesn’t trust me with her innermost thoughts anymore. “I knew it was part of the process. No pain, no gain, right?”
“Maybe for my fighters,” I mumble. “Not for you.” I want to protect Ashlin from pain. To keep her safe. Despite all of her supposed growth over the past few years—everything she’s learned from therapy and her support group—I’m gripped by the fear that history will repeat itself.
“It’ll be worth it,” she assures me, then adds, “I’m tougher than I look.”
Fuck, I hope so. Because when you consider the fact she’s only a little over five feet and ninety pounds, she looks breakable. Like I could snap her with one arm. Although I guess, in reality, she’s the one who broke me.
The doctor clears her throat. Her lips curl in one corner as though we amuse her. “Thousands of women have been through this clinic and dealt with the injections,” she says. “I have absolutely no doubt that Ashlin will too.”
She weighs Ashlin to determine the correct dosage, then sits at her computer and starts typing. A thousand questions fly through my mind, and I try to sift through them. This may be one of my few chances to get the information I want before we hit the point of no return.
“What’s the chance she’ll actually get pregnant?” I ask.
The doctor glances up and adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Approximately 30 percent per cycle, although the likelihood decreases each time it’s unsuccessful.”
“Shit.” I flex my hands into fists, then shove them into my pockets so I don’t freak anyone out. “There’s a two in three chance it won’t work?” That’s not what I expected. I thought this was pretty much a done deal. Fertilize some eggs, stick them in the right place, nine months later there’d be a baby.
“In most cases.” The doctor stacks her hands one on top of the other and cocks a brow at Ashlin. “You two haven’t talked about the risks and possible outcomes?”
Ashlin flushes. “Uh, not really.”
