It feels like my own heart is breaking as I watch her fall apart. I can’t imagine what she’s going through as a woman—a would-be mother. My own pain is slicing through my heart as tears pool in my eyes.
The entire night is a cycle of this: Leigh crying, apologizing, and trying to form words and thoughts while I hold her. As she lies on my chest, finally back to sleep, my own thoughts drift to what could have been.
I would’ve been a father? My thoughts and feelings are jumbled. I can’t make sense of what I feel. One second, I feel utterly broken that my baby is gone, and the next, I’m relieved, and then I feel shame and guilt for feeling relief.
I tell myself that I’d be ruining Leigh’s life. She’s only 25, and she’s got her entire life ahead of her—her Pilates studio and expanding business. The last thing she needs is to be tied to an almost-38-year-old doctor who barely has time to sleep.
But the reality is, I’d give anything to be a father. Mine was my hero. I want to give my mom grandchildren. As an only child, I’m her only chance at having them.
Lately, I’ve felt like my life is completely out of my control. After my engagement to August fell through, I no longer trusted my gut. I thought we would build a life together. I now know that she wasn’t meant for me—that Remington would love her more than I ever could. I realize I was rushing into a life with someone because I wanted a family, but I need to take time to heal—to focus on being happy before I try to use someone else to fill that void.
Every day, the pain in Leigh’s eyes seems to disappear a little more. We’ve developed a routine. I come by after work and cook dinner. We eat—though I usually have to force her to—and then we lie on the couch while she cries. I eventually wake her to take a shower and then put her to bed. Some nights I stay, but some nights I have to be on call, so I either drive back to Denver or stay at my lake house to give her some space.
“You sure you’re ready?” I ask as she pulls on a pair of leggings and tosses a hoodie over her sports bra.
“Yeah, I think I need to return to some sense of normalcy for the sake of my mental health.” She smiles. It’s small, but it’s the first time I’ve seen it in over a week. I smile back.
“Well, if you’re ready, then I support it.”
It feels weirdly calming that she and I have managed to fall into a routine so easily. Over the last 10 days, whenever I’ve slept over like I have today, I make coffee, prepare breakfast, and then make sure she eats it. I go to work and text her throughout the day to check in on her. Sometimes I come back to her place to bring her lunch, and then I repeat the same process for dinner.
“Hey,” she says, reaching out and grabbing my hand, “thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve made it through this without you.”
I pull her into a warm embrace. She feels so good in my arms. She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes dropping from my eyes to my lips before leaning in to close the distance. We haven’t been intimate since she lost the baby, and I would never dream of pressuring her. Her lips move against mine, her tongue darting out to push through my lips. The kiss grows rapidly from soft and sweet to heated and passionate. I put my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back softly.
“Leigh, honey, I don’t want you to feel obligated to—” I motion between us, “be intimate with me.”
She nods her head slowly, reaching for my tie and pulling me back to her lips.
“I need this, Grant, please. Please make me feel whole again,” she whispers against my mouth.
“Aaaand release. Well done, everyone, only two more poses left. You got this!” Leigh instructs the class through the final phases of our workout. I wink at her and she smiles, shaking her head at me like she always does when I distract her.
“You’ve been working extra hard lately, Dr. Rossi,” she says coyly as everyone mills about after class, putting away their mats and weights.
“Thanks, Ms. Brooks, I’ve, uh, really enjoyed your thorough lessons. Keeps me limber off the mat when I’m doing . . . other activities. Plus I’ve been doubling up on my workouts. Had an incredible one this morning.” I wink again and she blushes before bursting out laughing.
It feels like it’s impossible to hide our attraction for each other. I’m pretty sure anyone who’s within a 15-mile radius of us can sense the sexual tension.
“You want to get in a workout tonight? Say around 7?” She flips her hair in a flirty manner.
“Would love to. I’ll bring dinner.” I glance over my shoulder and the room is empty, so I grab her behind the neck, pulling her toward me as I walk us backward until we hit a wall. I kiss her hard. I let my hands roam her taut body, squeezing her ass as I grind my cock against her. Just as she moans into my mouth, I release her, leaving her panting and heavy-lidded.
“See you at 7, baby.”
The entire day, my mind is preoccupied with images of Leigh writhing beneath me—of feeling her nails scratch my back as her thighs squeeze me. I hear my name tumbling from her lips as I thrust into her over and over.
By the time I make it to Leigh’s house after work, it’s evident that I’m not the only one who’s wound so tightly I’m about to snap. I barely get through the door with takeout when Leigh is in my arms, tearing at my clothes and climbing my body like a tree.
“That was . . .” she moans, curling into my chest as she runs her fingers through the hair that peppers my pecs.
“Yeah,” I reply breathlessly. I run my own hand over her hair, kissing the top of her head. She tilts her head back to look at me, smiling softly.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
The words are soft as a feather, but they instantly send a shiver through my entire body. I tense and I know she feels it, because her expression goes from soft to concerned in a second. I sit up.
“Leigh, I . . .” Panic grips me. “I’m not ready.” I don’t know what to say. I look at her and her eyes, which were so full of contentment just a moment ago, are now cold and narrow. I grab her hand. “I’m sorry if I confused you.”
She jerks her hand away from me. “Confused me? That’s one way of putting it. Then what the hell was all this?” She stands up and grabs a sheet, covering her body.
“Leigh, you’re amazing and wonderful and I love spending time with you.”
“But you don’t love me?”
“No . . . yes . . . that’s not it. I—I just got out of a serious relationship and I’m not ready to jump into a new one just yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Grant, it’s been the better part of a year. You can’t keep using that excuse of your last failed relationship. Get over it!” she screams, her face red with anger. “Why then? If you knew you weren’t ready, then why go through all this?” She gestures wildly as tears build.
“Because I do like you. You’re fun, and then when things happened with the baby—”
“Don’t.” She points a finger at me, her voice quivering.
“We needed each other, Leigh.”