“Lo.” Jazz reaches across the desk to grab my hand. Her eyes are full of compassion. “You can tell me anything. You know that. I will never judge you or betray your confidence.”
“I know that.” The words feel choked over the lump in my throat.
“Is it Bishop?” she asks, squeezing my hand. “Is he sick again?”
I shake my head. “No, thank God. He’s doing much better since the operation, and Galen and I took him to the cardiologist for a checkup last week. Everything looks good.”
Last year, Bishop collapsed at kindergarten and had to be rushed to the emergency room. We discovered he had a congenital heart defect, one that had gone undiagnosed since birth.
He had an operation to repair the small hole in his heart, and his doctor has told us he should live a long, healthy, and happy life. He will have to be monitored frequently, but as long as he is taking care of himself and getting regular checkups, there shouldn’t be any reason to worry.
God knows we all did enough of that last year. We were terrified.
“Is it Galen then? Does he still feel guilty?”
I squeeze her hand before withdrawing mine, opening my bag, and removing my lunch as I speak. “Even though he’s processed everything that happened with Bishop and come out the other side, I think Galen will always feel guilty.”
Galen was in bad shape during that time. He was worried for Bishop, and the situation brought buried memories to the surface. For him, it was a lot like watching helplessly as his sister suffered. Even after Bishop recovered, and we knew he was going to be fine, Galen frequently woke from nightmares. I spent a lot of nights comforting him in the early hours, and we spent hours upon hours talking about it until he worked through his feelings.
“While his sister Mya had a different heart condition,” I continue, “there is nothing any of us can say to make him agree it’s not his fault. He will always carry that, but at least he has found a way to live again. He was depressed and scared for so long.”
I pause for a moment, remembering how worried about him we all were. But Galen is tough, and he has made his peace with it now. “The doctors can’t even say for sure if it’s genetic. It could be coincidental that Bishop had a heart condition and so did his aunt. The most important thing is, he is healthy and well. It hasn’t scared him or altered him in any of the ways that count.”
“So, what is troubling you?”
I decide to fess up—if I don’t talk to someone about it, I’m likely to fall apart. More than that, I need her advice on what to do. I take a sip of my water, and she takes a bite out of her wrap as she waits patiently for me to explain. “When I first got pregnant, we made a joint decision not to find out who the biological father was. It was the same when Luna and Aurora came along. It doesn’t matter whose DNA flows in their veins because they are all of our children. Every one of my husbands is an amazing father, and everything was fine until Bishop got sick, and it forced us to relook at things.” My heart is heavy as I recall one of the more difficult times of my life. I take a bite of my wrap as I grapple with my emotions.
“In what way? Did you need to know for blood transfusion or something?”
“It was more that we realized we needed to know in case there were other genetic issues we should be aware of.”
“Like Caz’s mom having Parkinson’s.”
I nod. “Exactly.” We found out about Mrs. Evans just after Bishop was diagnosed and it was a no-brainer by then. We won’t take risks with our kids’ lives, and it’s better to know the full familial history so we are prepared for any future situations.
“I still don’t understand what the issue is,” Jazz says, biting into her apple.
I take another sip of water, before slouching in my chair. I flip the bottle cap between my fingers as I get to the heart of the matter. “The paternity tests revealed Galen is Bishop’s bio dad, Theo is Luna’s bio dad, and Caz is Rora’s.”
Awareness sparks to life in her eyes. “Saint is upset none of them are his.”
I bob my head. “Out of all my husbands, Saint has always been the most possessive, the most alpha. The instant we got the results, I knew he’d feel left out. That he’d want to rectify the situation.”
“Don’t you want more kids?”
I straighten up, leaning my elbows on the table. “Honestly, I’d have a football field full of kids. I love babies. I adore my children. That’s not it.” I gulp over the pained lump in my throat. “We’ve been trying for eight months, and I’m still not pregnant.”
Her features soften. “That’s not too long. Especially when you’ve given birth to three kids within four years. Your body probably needs some time to recover before it’s ready to go again.”
“That could be true, but Saint is a man on a mission, and it’s taking over everything.” Pain slices across my chest. “He’s obsessed, Jazz. He knows my cycle better than I know it myself. He’s read every book he can get his hands on. He practically forces vitamins and health smoothies down my throat. I’m afraid to indulge in snacks because I see the look he gives me if I dare put anything unhealthy into my body. He makes the others use condoms so I don’t accidentally get pregnant by them, and he actually suggested last week that I should abstain from sex with my other husbands so my body is less tired and more ready for him. He’s starting to sound legit crazy. He’s unpredictable and erratic, and sometimes, when he’s fucking me, he seems angry, as if he hates me.” A sob rips from my chest, and I hang my head, my body shaking as deep-seated anguish races through me.
“Oh, Harlow.” She reaches out, taking my hand again. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
I lift my head, looking her in the face. “Saint is a proud guy, and he didn’t want anyone to know. He asked me not to mention it to you or Denise, and I didn’t want to go against his wishes.”
“I understand, and I’m not mad. I’m just upset you’ve been dealing with this alone. I should’ve been there for you.”
“I don’t know what to do, and it’s getting worse.” Tears are dripping down my face, and I’m powerless to stop them. “I have loved sex from the minute I became sexually active, but I’m starting to dread sex with Saint because it’s not enjoyable anymore. He’s all cold and clinical.”
My sobs pick up in earnest, and she rounds the desk, wrapping her arms around me. “He came home last night, and he didn’t even say hello to me. It was all “you’re ovulating, we need to fuck,” and I actually flinched when he tried to touch me after the deed was done.”
My lower lip wobbles as I peer into her face. “I’m terrified this is taking over our lives and ruining what I have with him. And if that happens, it will ruin the whole family dynamic. Worse, what if I can’t get pregnant? What if I can’t give him the child he so desperately desires? I’ll feel like a failure, and I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to forgive me.”
“It might not be your fault, Lo. Have you considered that maybe the issue is with Saint? Maybe you should both get tested.”
My chest heaves painfully. “I have considered that, but it would only make things worse. I’d rather I was the failure than Saint thinking it’s him. If he can’t father children, it will devastate him, Jazz.” I swallow over the anguished lump in my throat. “If it was anyone but Saint, they’d deal with it. But Saint won’t handle it well. I know he won’t. He…”