Chapter 94 (2/2)

It’s too much, and it seems never ending.

In a way, the relief I feel after telling Hardin about the infertility is huge, massive.

But there’s always something else waiting to be revealed or thrown at one of us.

And New York is that next thing.

I don’t know if I should just say it now, now that we already have an issue between us. I hate the way Hardin reacted, but I’m thankful for the remorse he showed after his callous dismissal of my feelings. If he wouldn’t have pulled the car over and apologized, I don’t think I could have found it in myself to speak to him again.

I can’t count the times that I’ve said, thought, sworn, those words since I met him. I owe it to myself to think that I meant them this time.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, closing my bedroom door behind him.

Without hesitation, I answer honestly, “That I wouldn’t speak to you again.”

“What?” He steps toward me, and I back away from him.

“If you wouldn’t have apologized, I wouldn’t have anything to say to you.”

He sighs, running his hand over his hair. “I know.”

I can’t stop thinking of what he said: “I didn’t think so, but now that it’s been taken away . . .”

I’m still in shock from it; I’m sure of it. I never expected to hear those words from him. It didn’t seem possible that he would change his mind; then again, true to the dysfunction of our relationship, his mind was only changed after tragedy.

“Come here.” Hardin’s arms open to me, and I hesitate. “Please, let me comfort you the way I should have. Let me talk to you and listen to you. I’m sorry.”

Per usual, I’m stepping into his arms. They feel different now, more solid, more real than before. He tightens his embrace around my body, resting his cheek against the top of my head. His hair, too long on the sides now, tickles my skin, and I feel him place a kiss onto my hair.

“Tell me how you feel about all of this. Tell me everything you haven’t told me about it,” he says, pulling me to sit next to him on the bed. I cross my legs, and he leans his back against the headboard.

I tell him everything. I tell him about my first appointment to get on birth control. I tell him that I have known about the possibility of a problem since before we left for London. His jaw tenses when I tell him that I didn’t want him to know, and his fists clench when I tell him that I was afraid he would be happy. He stays quiet and nods along until I tell him that I was going to keep it from him permanently.

He pulls himself up on his elbows to move closer to me. “Why? Why would you that?”

“I thought you would be happy, and I didn’t want to hear that.” I shrug. “I would have rather kept it to myself than hear how relieved you were about it.”

“If you would have told me before London, things could have gone differently.”