by B. B. Miller
“Have you ever been gutted about losing something you never knew you wanted?”
Cassidy leans back, a frown pulling her lips down. “Everyone has disappointment in their lives. It’s part of what makes us human.”
“Fly-girl, you’re a philosopher to boot.”
She lifts up on her toes and brushes her fingers over my lips. “Just let me help. That’s all I want,” she says before her lips find mine. I don’t bother stopping her. I let her help ease the ache, even if it’s just for a little while.
Cassidy
Sluggish sperm? The phrase sounds like it should be the punch line to a joke, but as I brush a strand of hair from Sean’s forehead, I know it’s no laughing matter.
Finding him standing in my shower, unresponsive while the steam billowed around him, unnerved me. He was obviously struggling with something, something that struck him virtually speechless—which was the disturbing part. Sean always has something to say; it may not always be appropriate, but he’s rarely left without words. So I did what I could to show him that I was there for him, that I cared, and whatever it was would be okay.
Sex with Sean is amazing…frequently loud, sometimes reckless, and always passionate. Tonight was on an entirely different level. Slow and sweet, we loved each other with a thorough tenderness that took my breath away. Caressing with lips and hands, we said everything that needed to be said without words. When he finally fell apart with an anguished cry, I held him tightly as he shuddered and collapsed around me.
Eventually, in a dull voice, he was able to tell me about his exam results. I listened quietly, cradling his head against my chest as he struggled to give voice to his confused emotions. It was a stream-of-consciousness rambling, and so Sean-like, it actually eased my worries in spite of the difficult subject. So here we lie, snuggled together, his breath warm against my breast while my thoughts bump around in my head.
With a soft sigh, I stare up at the shaft of light streaking across the ceiling from the streetlight outside. Memories of films about reproduction during health class flicker through my mind…scads of wriggling, industrious sperm racing to their goal and frantically trying to break through the ovum wall to the promised land. What would a sluggish sperm look like? One that saunters up to the egg and asks it out for drinks?
He hums as I trail my fingers through his silky strands of hair, marveling at his masculine beauty. His long dark eyelashes lie on his freckled cheeks, one of the few areas of his body that are unadorned by ink. A straight, almost too long nose. He must not have shaved today because his sharp chin is covered in fine dark scruff. One muscular arm is outside the sheets, lying across my body and trapping me in place. Although the Union Jack is elsewhere on his body, this arm bears the red and white English flag, a Tudor rose, and a gorgeous rendering of a medieval sword. The man is a living, breathing homage to his country.
“What are you thinking?” His soft voice is muffled against my skin. “I’m sorry to dump all that on you. You must think I’m mad.”
I tug the sheet up over his shoulder, and he shifts to move his head to the pillow next to me. “Not mad.” He leans forward and kisses me softly. “You had a lot to get off your chest.”
“Who knew mental anguish was so taxing?” He gives me a lopsided smile, and I huff a laugh. “So.” He draws out the word, his smile fading. “I suppose it is a bit mad to be worried about something I never thought I’d want until I couldn’t have it. I just… What do you think? Have you ever wanted, I mean, thought about having, you know—”
“Thought about children of my own?”
He nods, his green eyes searching my face as I consider the question.
Children. I like them, and I’m good with them, if my experiences with a few dozen flower girls and ring bearers are a measure. I’ve only ever thought of them in the abstract. As in, one day in the distant future, I’ll probably have children. I’m only thirty-two. I have several years before pregnancy starts to get a bit dicey. I’ve never really pictured myself with them…until the last few weeks.
Sean has been a revelation to me. A real shock to the system. Since I’ve met him, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things I’ve never thought about before. If I’m honest, that’s one of the reasons I was curious about his real hair color. The thought of a tiny ginger-haired toddler wobbling around my workshop and rearranging all my thread spools out of order, makes me go all warm and gooey inside. But now…
“Not really,” I whisper, averting my eyes to focus on my fingers entwined with his between us. “At least, I hadn’t…”
“And now?” He gives my hand a squeeze. “Tell me.”
I sigh and look back at him, afraid to hope about why what I want is so important to him. “Sean, this diagnosis isn’t carved in stone,” I say instead. “Didn’t you say your doctor suggested some options?” He nods, a frown flickering on his lips. “Then don’t let your mind dwell on it now. It’s like I said: this is just part of being human. Some people have a stutter, some are dyslexic, some have red hair.” He huffs a laugh, and I continue, “None of it is bad. None of it makes anyone less than or deficient. It’s simply a part of being human. Everyone has their unique differences. So don’t worry; you never know what the future could hold. When—or if—you reach that point in your life where you want children, you’ll have options.” With a gentle fingertip, I trace the side of his face. “Whatever you decide, any child that could call you daddy, biological or not, will be lucky. You’d be a great dad.”
“Do you really think that?” The vibrant emerald green of his eyes softens to a mossy warmth.
“Absolutely. Especially the part about you being a great dad,” I say with complete conviction. Then I give him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me the indomitable Sean Murphy is having doubts about his abilities as a father?”
He laughs, a flash of his usual exuberance sparkling in his eyes. “Never. I’d totally rock that shit.” His grin softens, and he tucks my hair behind my ear. “So would you. You’d be the best mum a kid could hope for.”
My heart twinges. “Sean—” I whisper, but he suddenly rolls us so he’s above me, looking down at me with an intensity that makes my breath stutter.
“So tell me, Fly-girl. Does this make a difference between us? You keep saying ‘whatever I decide in the future.’” He slides his hand up my side deliberately, claiming me, and making me shiver. “Don’t you know you’re a part of that future? I’m so yours it’s not even funny.” His hand reaches my face, gliding to cup my jaw so I couldn’t look away if I’d wanted to. “I love you, Cass. Whatever decision I make about anything in the future, you will make with me…if you want.”
My vision is blurry, and I blink to clear it. I didn’t even know I was crying. He loves me. To hear those words, to know absolutely that he means them, is…everything. “I want,” I whisper, and the hope in his eyes sparks a fire in my veins. “I love you, too. We’ll figure it out together. You’re stuck with me, London.”
His lips cover mine in a bruising kiss I feel down to my toes. “You know, there is one silver lining in what the good doctor told me,” he murmurs against my lips and pulls away to give me a devilish grin.
I reach between us and give his hard cock a firm stroke, making him groan in pleasure. “What would that be?”
He leans closer, his delicious accent a growl in my ear. “No more condoms.”
Murphy’s Law No. 135: Heavy conversations are exhausting.
Sean
MY THROAT FEELS DRY AS I wait for Syd to pick up on video chat. Having a conversation with my sister about reproduction ranks pretty damn low on my list of things to do, but I just have to suck it up and do it. If I keep this from Syd and it turns out she does have challenges—as dear old Dr. Perez so eloquently puts it—in this area, I’d never forgive myself.
After what seems like an eon, her face appears on screen. Her smile takes an immediate downturn when she sees me. “What’s wrong?” Damn twin. I can’t keep a thing from her.
“Why do you immediately assume something is wrong?” I take a sip of tea. Stalling seems like the way to go.
She throws her arms up in the air. “This is me, Sean. I know when something’s wrong. Just tell me if you’re okay.”
Setting my cup down, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m okay, Syd. Well, as okay as I can be.”
“You’re seriously killing me. Just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
“I saw my doctor today,” I start and her eyes widen.
“What? Are you ill?”
“No, Syd. Nothing like that.” I lean back in the chair, glancing out the windows of my penthouse. Manhattan is spread out like a dream at my feet as I’m about to drop this bomb.
“Sean…” God I hate hearing the worry in her voice, seeing her face pale. Her eyes dart around on the screen in that way she has when she’s trying to figure out what’s going to come out of my mouth next.
“Okay, I’m just going to say this. It seems I have a fertility problem.” She blinks, confusion marring her face. “The boys apparently are swimming in circles, and they don’t know if this is something that might affect you too. I mean, obviously not the sperm part.” I cringe, seeing her lip tremble before rambling on. “There’s not a lot of information on twins, but Doc told me you should get checked out.” I palm my forehead. “I’m sorry, Syd. It might only be me with this bullshit, but I couldn’t keep it from you. You know”—I wave at the screen—“with this marriage business with Philip and everything.”
Her face leans closer to the screen. “That doesn’t… What? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Syd. I’m sure. Believe me, I don’t want it to be true, but it seems I’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of having a baby someday.”
She’s quiet for a moment, studying me, and I can’t bear that look of sympathy in her eyes. I take another sip of tea. “That can’t be right. I mean, there’s got to be something they can do.”
“Oh, there is. If I want to go under a knife, or eventually try IVF or something off the laundry list of medical miracle treatments out there. It’s not a lost cause, and you might be completely different, Syd, but you need to get checked out.”
“I have been.” Her quiet voice takes me back. “You know Philip—the barrister in him wanted to cover all the bases, so we both got all worked up a few months ago. We’re both fine.”
“You are? I mean…” I drop my head, letting out a long breath. “Thank Christ. Bless Philip and his stuffy legal mind.” Syd laughs, but I can see the pain in her eyes when I glance back at the screen.
“Do you want me to come back? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
I wave her off, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “I’m not alone, Syd. I’ve got Cass. She knows, and she still wants to keep me ’round. Talk about a miracle.” I let out a laugh, but it sounds flat and forced.
Syd shakes her head. “Crazy girl, that one.”
“Crazy enough to love me. Not sure I’d ever see that day.” I think about how Cass sent me on my way this morning, and can’t help but smile. Lazy morning sex is definitely the best.
Syd’s smile lights up. “She said she loves you?”
“It was quite the moment we had. I’d tell you about the details, but I’m pretty sure I’ve pushed my overshare for the day—probably the year.”
“I’m so happy for you. She’s fabulous and you deserve that kind of love, Sean. You deserve it more than anyone.” I try not to get emotional listening to her. I’m still trying to come to grips with this twisted reality I’m in. Having options taken away from you doesn’t sit well, but at the end of the day, I can either wallow in it or move on. You can’t change facts, but I can decide how to deal with them.
“We all deserve love, Syd.”
“What are you feeling about this, honestly?” Syd scans my face before continuing, “I know we’ve only ever talked about kids in the someday sense but—”
“Somedays can change. And it’s not like I’m giving up. That’s not who I am. Like Doc said, there are lots of options.” Syd tries to stealthily wipe her eyes and I forge on. “If it’s something Cass and I decide we want to do there are treatments or even adoption.” Syd nods, her smile watery. “And don’t forget luck and karma. Those have gotten me where I am, and I’ll never give up believing in them.”
Cassidy
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come?” I ask again as Sean helps me out of the hired car in front of Rockefeller Plaza. We’re quickly greeted by a staffer who whisks us inside the stage entrance.
Hand in hand, we walk briskly through the lobby, although Sean waves gaily at a few people who stop in their tracks to gawk at him. His hair is a freshly dyed vivid green that matches the emerald of his eyes.
“Of course it is,” he states. “It’ll be fun. My compatriots are bringing their better halves. We all need to give Kennedy moral support to get through this ridiculous taping.” He snorts. “And we need to keep Matt from punching Landon Ravine in his little weasel nose. Rock to the Top will never be the same after tonight, I guarantee it.” A buzz of energy surges through me. Landon Ravine’s popular show, Rock to the Top, has churned out three chart-topping bands in the last couple of years. It’s something of a phenomenon, and I can’t help getting caught up in the excitement.
We enter an elevator, and I nervously pick some lint from my navy blazer. “If you guys don’t like him, why is Kennedy doing his show?”
“It was the only way we could get him to perform at a charity concert we gave a few years ago for a cancer patient. Remember? I told you about Parker.”
I nod, remembering. Sean has shown me pictures of the cheeky little blond boy whose cancer is in remission, thankfully. “Yes, but I thought everyone was happy to participate in that concert?”
“Oh, they were.” He huffs a laugh as the steel box we’re riding in rises quickly. “But Landon’s not the sort to give without getting something in return. Bit of an arse, really.”
Eventually, the doors slide open, revealing a busy hallway. Following our guide, we dodge people scurrying around; you can feel the preshow excitement in the air. Finally, we reach a set of industrial double doors, and our guide holds one open for us.
“Wait here with the others, please.” He gives us a bland look. The guy must have seen so many famous faces he’s become jaded.
Unfazed, Sean gives me a grin and tugs me after him. “Come on. Time to see the magic behind the curtain.”
We enter a green room, and a group of women and men I recognize as his bandmates rise from some uncomfortable-looking sofas and chairs. “Let’s get this party started!” Sean declares, strolling in like he owns the place. A man I recognize as Kennedy Lane steps forward, flanked by Matt and another man I assume is Cam Chapman.
They look between us, smug smiles on their faces, and then Kennedy clears his throat, running a hand through his dark hair. “It’s about time you got here.”
Murphy’s Law No. 36: Some things are better left unsaid. Sadly, I typically remember this right after I’ve said them.
Sean
“ISN’T IT A LITTLE EARLY for St. Patrick’s Day celebrations?” Cameron pokes at my hair, and I swat his hand away.
“Shut it, you.” An array of fist bumps and back pats are thrown my way while Sam and Tess look between Cassidy and me with something akin to wonder.
“Where’s the missus, then?” I ask Kennedy as he leans against an overstuffed leather chair.
“The what?”
“Your wife, genius. Is she reacquainting herself with the wonders of Landon Ravine, bless his little cotton socks?”
Kennedy snorts. “He wishes. She’s in the ladies room.”
I glance at the door. “Is she all right?”
“Mostly. Random things turn her stomach. And there was sushi in here when we walked in.” Kennedy grimaces, wrinkling his nose.
“That’s backstage rule number one: no fish in the green room.” Cameron shakes
his head.
“Ravine probably did it on purpose,” Matty says with a snarl.
Tess smacks my arm with surprising force. “I’m sure you weren’t born in a barn. Introduce us.” She waves her hand at Cassidy, and I frown and rub my bicep. Tess and Sam inch their way toward Cassidy. Cass gives them a little shy wave.
“Forgive me, love.” I cross back to take her hand, bringing her into the fold. “Everyone, this is Cassidy Skinner. Cass, this is my second family, as dysfunctional as we are.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Tess says, enveloping Cassidy in a hug. “He’s the dysfunctional one. We’re normal… mostly. I’m Tess and this is Samantha.” Sam likewise gives Cassidy a hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Sam says as they both corral Cassidy away from us and stop in front of the food table, babbling away.
Matt nudges me in the side, lifting his chin in the direction of the girls. “She’s actually real. I thought maybe you had her created in some lab.” Kennedy claps his hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh.
“Mate, I couldn’t have had anyone more perfect created if I tried.” I watch Cassidy throw her head back and laugh at something Tess says, the overhead lights catching the golden sheen of her hair. She really is fucking perfect. I’d like to rip that buttoned-up blazer she’s rocking right from her body and bury my face between her breasts. “Even dropped the L word a couple of weeks ago.”
Cameron steps up beside us. “Well hell. I would’ve bet money on this day never coming.”
“I think you did bet money on this day never coming,” Kennedy pipes up. “Pretty sure you owe someone some coin.”
Cameron laughs, slapping me on the back. “Does this mean your days of living the single life are over?”
“That it does, Three. That it does.”
“No more late night wall pounding?” Kennedy asks as I reach over for an energy drink and twist the top off.