“Aww, isn’t that sweet,” Ava says. “They are so cute. That is relationship goals.”
“Word,” Corrine says. “How long have they been married?” she asks Gabe who puts his menu down.
“I think five years,” he says, grabbing the glass of water and drinking from it.
“I swear, their kids are going to be the cutest in the world,” Ava says. “I can’t wait to have kids.”
“Really?” Gabe asks.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve wanted to be a mother since I was a little girl. I used to wrap bags of carrots in a blanket and pretend it was a baby.”
We all laugh. “I mean, I want kids,” Corrine says, “but like not now now. Maybe in about five years, ten max.”
I nod at them. “I guess I’m the opposite,” I tell them. “I never want kids.”
“Really?” Ava says, and then Emma and Mia arrive.
“Hey. Sorry we are late,” Mia says, sitting in front of us next to Corrine and Ava. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Kids,” Gabe says, putting his hand on my chair and stretching out his arm. “Crystal doesn’t want kids.”
I wait for the onslaught of opinions. “Well, it’s not for everyone,” Emma says. “I didn’t want them either, but then well, one slipped by.” She smiles.
“I would die,” I say, grabbing my water and drinking it. Thankfully, Alan and Olivia arrive with Gabe’s parents right behind them. The rest of the meal goes smoothly, and Gabe stays quiet most of the night, not really part of any conversation. When we get into the truck later that night, he looks over at me.
“What’s wrong with you?” I look over at him.
“Nothing, just thinking,” he says. “You coming over or going home?” he asks, and I know he’s pissed about something because he never gives me the option.
“Home please,” I say, not bothering with the conversation. My heart beats fast in my chest as we get closer and closer to my house. I slam the truck door as soon as we pull up to the house, going up the steps with my head down.
“You really mean it, don’t you?” Gabe yells from beside the truck. “You really don’t want children?”
I inhale a big breath and gear my heart up for battle.
Turning around, I take him in, his shirt rolled up at the wrists, his dark slacks perfect. What I would give for just one more kiss. But I knew this day would come, knew in my heart I would have to say goodbye to him one day. I just didn’t think today would be the day. I walk down one step. “I really, really don’t want children.”
He puts his hands in his pockets. “There must be a reason,” he says, looking up at the sky. “There must be.”
“There is nothing,” I say, my voice raising just a little, but enough for him to stop. “I don’t want kids; I’ve never wanted kids.” Lies, all fucking lies. From when I was five years old and my mother bought my first baby, I’ve wanted to be a mother.
“But,” he says, looking at me, “I do.” Two words shatter me, two words I wish I could give him.
“Then go have them.” I raise my hand to him. “No one is stopping you.”
“You!” he yells out so loud I hear the front door open behind me, and Hailey steps out.
“Is everything okay?” she asks as I say yes and Gabe says no.
“You are the one stopping me because I love you,” he says, not moving from his side of the truck. “I’m in love with your cousin, so in love with her that I can’t put it into words, but …”
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I say, and his head snaps back. “I’m sorry that you feel that way. I’m sorry that it has come to this.”
“You’re sorry?” he roars. “You’re fucking sorry. For what?”
“Gabe,” Hailey says, coming to stand next to me, holding my hand. “Maybe now isn’t the right time.”
“It’s time,” I whisper to her. “It went on too long.”
“It went on too long? What the fuck are you talking about? Did we have an expiration date that I didn’t know about? For fuck’s sake, I just told you I love you, and all you can say is you’re sorry. You’re fucking sorry.” He shakes his head. “I want to have kids with you; I want to have a future with you; I want it all with you.”
“You can’t have it,” I tell him as a tear rolls out the corner of my eye.
“Because you won’t let me. You won’t let us,” he yells at the top of his lungs.
“I’m infertile,” I say the two other words that shattered me when I was nineteen. I say them out loud to the two people I love more than I love myself. The two people I would give my life for. My cousin squeezes my hand and gasps while Gabe just looks at me, shock in his eyes. “I was told at nineteen that I was infertile. I would never have children. My body was nineteen, but my insides were not.” I let the tears fall, finally unleashing it. “So no, I can’t give you what you dream; I can’t even give myself what I dream because it’s impossible. So you can stand there and tell me that you love me, you can stand there now and tell me it’s going to be okay, but it’s not. It will never be okay.” I let go of Hailey’s hand and turn to go up the step, looking back at the man I love. I would do anything to make his dreams come true, but I’m not that woman. “So that is why I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want. I’m sorry that no matter how many times I cried those tears, nothing in my body has changed. I’m sorry that no matter how much I prayed, no matter how much I begged God to just give me a chance, to just let me prove how good of a mother I can be, he didn’t listen,” I say, watching him and taking in his face. I turn around. “Goodbye, Gabe,” I say, walking into the house and going to the couch, my body numb.
Hailey comes right in after me, the sound of his truck leaving blocked off when she closes the door. I don’t turn to look at her; I keep my eyes focused ahead, keep looking at that little brown speck on the coffee table. She sits next to me, her arms going around my shoulders. “I love him,” I say, finally turning to her as tears run down both our faces. “I love him so much my heart hurts,” I whisper, laying my head on her shoulder. “Why?” I don’t know what I’m asking. “Why?” I finally let the sob roar through me. “Why?” I cry into her arms as she rocks me, our tears mixing.
“I don’t know why,” she finally says as my sobs continue. We stay on the couch, and I cry out with the pain of losing myself all over again. I did the one thing I told myself not to do—I fell in love. She holds me all night long till morning. She takes my phone and calls into work, telling them I’m sick.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gabe
When she walked into her house, slamming the door, I walked to the steps, but Hailey stopped me. “She won’t listen to what you have to say. Not now.”
“I’m not leaving her now,” I told her, but she just nodded her head.
“She is the strongest person I know. When my husband died, she would have carried me and my pain on her shoulders, and she did,” she said. “She actually confronted Eric’s wife.”
“She can’t believe I’d just leave her.” The thought that she would go to bed thinking I would just leave her is too much. My heart breaks for her; the fact she kept this a secret and bore it alone ... I can’t even think what that must have felt like.
“If you go in there, she will only push you away faster than she did before. Give her a couple of days.”
“I’m giving her two, but that’s it. Then I’m coming back. I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone says.” I get in my truck and take off with tears in my eyes. I pull up at Walker’s, knocking on the door, and then walk in.
I walk past him to his scotch, taking three big gulps, only stopping when the burning gets too much. “What the fuck is wrong?” he asks worried, not moving from his spot.
“She can’t have kids,” I whisper. “And I want to have babies with her.” I turn around.
“What?” he says, his voice low.
“Even with Bethany, I knew it would come, but I just didn’t think of it. But wit
h Crystal, it’s the only thing I think of. She’s so soft, sweet, and kind,” I say, taking another swig. “I told her I loved her, and then told her that I wanted kids, and she told me she’s infertile.”
“Oh my god.” His hands go to his mouth.
“I don’t give a shit anymore. I don’t care if she can have kids or not. I just want her.”
“You can’t just make that decision,” he tells me, and I shake my head.
“The thought of having a child with someone else makes my skin crawl. The thought of living without her hurts my chest. Like a physical pain,” I say, drinking another shot.
“I can’t breathe without her.” I walk to the couch, pressure on my chest. “I can’t do it.”
“Why are you here?” he asks me. Sitting next to me, he grabs the bottle from me. “Why are you not with her?”
“Because besides all those good things about her, she is stubborn, so fucking stubborn, and I know she won’t listen to anything I have to say today. Nothing.”
“So you have a plan?” he asks me, and I shake my head.
“No fucking idea. All I know is that I’m giving her two days, two days to get her shit together, and then I’m going after her.”
“You think she’ll listen to you?”
“My father was right. I didn’t love Bethany. I didn’t go after her; I didn’t even think to go after her. With Crystal, I know I won’t let her live without me.”
“We’ll get her back,” he says, and I sit here in the dark with him by my side. My eyes never close the whole night, my chest in so much pain that I keep rubbing it.
“Uncle Gabe, you had a sleepover?” Mila asks when she walks into the kitchen the next morning and sees me still sitting on the couch.
“Yes.” I smile at her when Walker bends and picks her up, telling her good morning. He kisses her neck, and she squeals and looks at him as if he hung the moon and the stars. I want that; I want it more than I can explain, but I want her more. I want Crystal more than I want kids. I get up from the couch, my phone beeping in my pocket. I rush to get it out to see that she called in sick.
“I’m going home. I need to shower before work,” I tell Walker who nods at me. “One more day,” I say to him as he nods.
Going home is worse than it was ever before. She left her things over yesterday. Her t-shirt that she wore yesterday morning is strewn across the bed. I pick it up and bring it to my nose, smelling her. Turning to sit on the bed, I slump my shoulders, my head down.
Getting up is almost impossible, and the day ahead is more painful. I smile when I need to, but it’s clear I’m not myself when even Olivia bails on me and sends in Mia.
I spend as much time at the office as I can, but even here, she’s everywhere. My phone rings with a weird number. “Hello,” I say.
“It’s Hailey,” she whispers. “Can you talk?”
“Yes,” I answer her, knowing she’s my lifeline to my woman.
“She’s coming in tomorrow. But,” she says, and I hear her inhale, “this is going against everything that we stand for. Usually, it’s us against the world, but,” she says and sniffles, so I know she’s crying, “but she needs her happy. She deserves her fucking happy, and a man who loves her more than he loves himself.”
“I do,” I answer, cutting her off.
“I think she’s going to leave.”
My heart speeds up, my palms sweaty and the phone almost slips out of my hands. “Leave? Leave to where?”
“Home,” she says. One word.
“This is her home,” I counter.
“Well, that answers all my questions. Now you need to convince her of that,” she says. “I have to go. She’s coming.” And she hangs up.
I text her instead of calling her back.
Text me if she leaves before tomorrow.
When I finally make it home, I don’t bother going upstairs to the bed. I fall asleep on the couch, hoping that it goes fast, and I can see her sooner. When I walk into the office the next day, I hear the nurses talking about how sick she looks, so they placed her in the chart room. I walk toward the chart room but am stopped by Ava with an emergency, so I go into the exam room, rushing to get to Crystal, but the universe has other plans for me. Because every single time I take a step forward to her, it pushes me back. I hiss out every single time someone tells me I’m needed. I’m standing in the exam room when I hear my name shouted.
“Dr. Walker.” I hear Emma shout. Walking out of the room, I finally see her, her eyes with dark circles around it, her face pale, so pale. Her lips even paler. She looks at me, but it’s like she doesn’t see me as she starts going down. I run to her, catching her right before she hits the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Crystal
I gave myself yesterday; I gave myself a day to mourn. I don’t look at my phone; I don’t pick it up when work calls to check on me; I don’t pick it up when I think it’s Gabe. I don’t look at it. I drift in and out of sleep all day, never moving from the couch. My body feels broken, it aches all over, but the worst pain is in my chest. My heart hurts, and no amount of pressure I apply to my chest makes it go away. The next day, I get up and continue my day. I walk in, looking down when they ask if I’m feeling better. “Getting there,” I say, going to my locker. I get to the nurses’ station, and Mia takes one look at me. “You still look like you’re fighting something, so why don’t you work in the chart room today?”
“Thank you so much,” I say, going into the room where we keep all the charts. If the patient is coming in, I pull their files. The morning goes by slow, and I hear Gabe’s voice a couple of times and hold my breath. I pick up my phone and call my grandmother, who picks up after one ring.
“Well, well, well,” she says, and I close the door.
“Hey, Nanny,” I say quietly.
“What’s the matter? What happened?” she says.
“I think I need to come home,” I say, my lips quivering. “It’s time to come home.”
“I’ll come down and get you,” she says. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I say quietly. I wipe a tear away. “I love you.”
“Be strong,” she says and then disconnects. I put my phone back in my pocket. Taking a deep breath, I walk out of the room, my stomach rumbling as I walk past the nurses’ station.
“Why is it so hot in here?” I ask as the back of my neck gets hot. I put the pen down on the nurses’ desk, turning around. The sound of my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
I need to drink some water, maybe some juice. “Are you okay?” Emma asks as I turn to walk to the staff room, but I turn back to look at her. My head turns slowly as I see spots of black around. “Dr. Walker.” I hear being yelled. I hear commotion all around me when my legs give out, and I fall to the floor.
“What’s wrong with her?” I hear Gabe yelling.
“She was complaining about the heat.” I hear Emma say and feel my body being lifted and laid on a table.
“I want a cold cloth.” I hear Gabe say, and my eyes open. My stomach feels like I’m going to be sick.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say softly, blinking open my eyes.
“You’re awake,” Gabe says, coming to my side and brushing my hair from my face.
“Step aside, son.” I hear Dr. Walker Sr. say.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he hisses.
“Calm down,” he tells him, coming to me. “Okay, what happened?”
“She fainted,” Gabe yells from next to me, his face now white as the worry sets in. He comes to my side, holding my hand and bringing it to his lips.
His father looks at him and smiles. “Well, this answers a whole bunch of questions.” He smiles at me. “Now, Crystal, tell us what happened.”
“I’m fine.” I try to get up and my head pounds, so I lie back down. “I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten today or actually yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well.” I avoid making eye contact. “I’m sure once I eat something, I�
��ll be fine.”
Dr. Walker takes my blood pressure. “It’s a little high, but considering all this commotion, that’s normal. I’m going to order some blood work just to be safe,” he says, calling Mia. “Is there anything else you feel besides the hot flash?” he asks, taking his stethoscope to listen to my heartbeat. “Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.”
“That sounds good,” he says and then moves to my stomach, palpating it, and I hiss in pain. “Have you had stomach tenderness before today?”
I shake my head, looking up at Gabe, his face still white. “Get the ultrasound machine,” he yells.
“Son, you really need to calm down.” He walks over to him. “She’s fine.”
The door opens when Emma comes in with the ultrasound machine. “She looks a bit better.” She hands me some apple juice. “Thought you could use some sugar maybe.”
“Thank you.” I reach out and take it from her, finishing it all in one shot. “This is silly, Dr. Walker. I already feel better.”
“Dear.” He looks at me, then at his son. “For everyone’s sake, why don’t we just humor him?”
“Fine, but no blood test,” I say, closing my eyes.
“We’ll see,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.
Dr. Walker turns off the lights and comes over to me on his stool. I raise my top and lower my scrub bottoms a bit. He squeezes the blue gel on my stomach, places the wand on my stomach, and we all look at the black screen.
I don’t know what I’m looking for, but what I get isn’t what I was expecting. “Oh, well.” I hear him say as I look at the screen. The picture on the little monitor has me mesmerized because it’s impossible. Tears flow down my cheeks, and I don’t even care. “I’m not a professional, but I’d say that’s a baby.”
“It can’t be,” I whisper. “I’m infertile.”
“I can assure you that isn’t the case.” He laughs, moving the machine around on my stomach, and we see two feet and two hands.
I look at Gabe, who has his own tears coming down his face. “A baby.” He looks at the screen, and his father turns on the sound. The sound of horses galloping fills the room. And I laugh. Joy, complete and utter joy.
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