“Maybe…maybe now you can be with someone who can?—”
He raises a hand, palm out. “Stop right there. You and I are not about the kids we can or can’t have. You’re more than your ability to have a child. I’m more than my ability to be a parent. We’remore.”
Silence sits between us, companionable and heavy.
Then, softly, I say, “We never really talked about…our disappointment about not having them.”
I said I was sorry. He said it didn’t matter. And that was that. We swept it under the rug, like it was just a mundane life event, and moved forward.
He looks out the window for a long moment, and then turns to face me. “I made a promise to myself that I’ll only be honest with you, from now on. So, no lies. Not even pleasant white ones. Some of this is…hell, Mia, it’s not gonna help me win you back.”
I draw in an unsteady breath. “Tell me anyway.”
Do I want to know his thoughts about me not being able to have babies?No, not really, because it’s going to hurt. But just as he made a promise to himself to be honest, I know I have to do the same. I have to listen to him being candid.
His shoulders tense. I can tell he’s not sure how far to go. But then he leans in, elbows on the table, hands cradling his cup like he needs the warmth. “I should’ve made it safe for you to talk about it. I should’ve let you grieve. With me.”
“Grieve?” The word comes out like a croak.
“Yeah, baby.” His eyes are gentle as he holds my gaze. “I know it hurt you to find out. It hurt me, too. But I didn’t want to hurt you more, so I didn’t talk about it.”
“Did you…love me less because of it?” The question has been haunting me.
He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing in this world could make me love you less, Mia.Nothing. I felt guilty for not being able to adopt. I wanted to give you…us…children,butI knew my parents would….”
I know what he means. His parents would’ve treated our child like they weren’t part of the family because they weren’tblood.
“So”—he clears his throat—"I took, once again, the path of least resistance when it came to my family. I screwed you over.”
“You did,” I admit, tears stinging.
He nods, his eyes filling with emotion.
“I hated how they made you feel like it was your fault.” He looks defeated. “I didn’t correct them, and you kept thinking there was something wrong with you.”
“You screwed me over,” I use his words because they’re so fitting.
He flinches. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
I suck in air and then blow it out to prevent the tears from falling. Now, that would create all sorts of drama. It was already going to be all around town that we were talking when everyone knew I had moved out. If I also cried….
“Give me a chance…give us a chance,” he pleads.
I’ve never seen Aiden beg for anything. He’s always been the man who avoids, who papers over the cracks with charm and pretense, acting like everything is fine, even when it’s burning down around him. The fact that he’s sitting here now, laying his feelings bare, tells me how sincere he is.Butmy broken heart cannot forgive, forget, or move on. I can’t trust him not toscrew me overagain.
He meets my eyes, firm and clear. “I want to have a child with you, Mia. So fucking badly. My parents don’t deserve to meet any child we raise. Adopted or not.”
He’s so honest, I want to weep.
“I still want to be a father,” he adds. “Even if it’s not in the way we imagined. But more than that…I want to be a husband again. Yours.”
I look down for a moment and then raise my eyes to him. “What if you…putthemfirst again?”
It’s the truth. He putthemfirst, himself, too. He didn’t want conflict, so he sold me out. It’s a harsh fact and one that crushes me further.
“I’d never do that again, Mia.”
I feel exhausted. My heart hurts all the time. My head feels like it’sexplodingbecause I can’t stop thinking about how my life hasimploded.
