Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
I take her hand and halt her movements. “Chess, come on. Something has been bothering you since Britt showed up here. You think I can’t see it?”
A glimmer of panic lights her eyes before she glances away. “Now isn’t the time to talk about this.”
Breaking free of me, she heads out of the closet.
I follow her. “There’s never a right time to talk about painful shit. But I’m here.” Catching up to her, I clasp her elbow, and she halts. I move closer, until my chest is pressed against her back. “Talk to me. Please.”
I’m tall enough to see her eyes flutter closed, and the pain that etches her face. “I can’t have them. Children. Babies.”
It’s the last thing I expected her to say. “What?”
Her breath shudders. “I’m basically infertile.”
Shit. Every comment I’ve made about having kids swims through my head. It had to have been a slap in the face for Chess. But she let me ramble and cry on her shoulder. “Honey . . .”
She moves away from me and starts pacing. “I found out during the whole latex fiasco. I’ve always had bad periods, horrible cramps, whatnot. I thought the latex issue was related to wearing . . . Anyway, they did a whole checkup thing and discovered that I had cysts in my uterus.”
She talks faster and faster. “I had them taken out, but it was so bad that there was significant scarring. The docs told me that I have little to no chance of becoming pregnant. Deformed uterus, and all that.”
“Chess . . .”
She talks over me, the pitch of her voice rising. “It isn’t as if I’d been going around dreaming of babies or anything, but when the choice is taken away from you . . .” She shakes her head, blinking rapidly.
Before she can move again, I grab her hand and tug her onto my lap as I sit on the couch. Her posture is rigid when she turns to face me. “It isn’t the same as what you went through, but I know how it feels to lose something you didn’t even know you wanted.”
“I’m so sorry, Chess.” I tell her, cupping her cheek.
She leans into my touch, and her hand comes up to rest on my chest. “It is what it is.”
“Yeah, but you’ve had to listen to me go on and on—”
“Hey,” she cuts in softly. “I want to listen. I want to be here for you.”
I nod, but before I can reply, she talks again.
“But you want something I can never give you.”
The words swell between us. And I go still. “What do you mean?” But I know.
Chess gives me a sad smile. “You want kids. You know that now. And I can’t have them.” Her lids lower, hiding her eyes. “I think about that and what it means for the future of us. And it scares me.”
“Chess—”
“Let me say this. I know my worth. I know that who I am is the sum of all of me, not the parts that aren’t perfect. I know that if I want children, I can adopt or find a surrogate. There are options. I’ve had all these conversations with myself already.”
Her hand glides over my chest in a slow, steady circle, as if I’m the one who needs soothing.
“I also know that we’ve just gotten together and thinking about this stuff is kind of jumping the gun. But we’re living together now, saying . . . emotional things to each other.” She flushes pink. “And it feels weighty. Like it’s more than just casual dating.”
“Because it is.” How can she doubt that?
Chess’s fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. “Which means we have to go into this relationship knowing the facts. I don’t want to be a regret. I don’t want you wondering somewhere along the way if you made the right choice.”
“You think I’m not going to want you because you can’t have kids?” I don’t know if I’m hurt or insulted, but it doesn’t feel good. It feels a lot like pain and panic.
Chess shakes her head. “This isn’t something you can just declare in the moment.”
The hell I can’t, but I bite my lip. Instinct is telling me that the more I push, the more she’ll push back.
“Maybe . . .” She hesitates, licking her kiss-swollen upper lip. “I don’t want to wonder if you’re regretting things. When I found all this out, I made a promise to myself that any relationship I went into would be the right fit for me as well.”
For a second I just stare at her, trying to process what she’s saying. My words come out rough and halting. “Were you planning on finding a guy who didn’t want kids? Is that it?”
Her green eyes go wide, and then she glances away. Guilty.