When she releases me, she gives me a hopeful smile and walks over to the counter.
I hold my breath, waiting.
She picks up the pregnancy test and then turns around to face me. When her eyes meet mine, I know the answer.
Her eyes fill up with tears and the test drops out of her hand as she slides against the cabinets and down to the ground where she begins to cry. “We’re not pregnant.”
My heart shatters in that moment, not just for another failed attempt at conceiving, but from the look of complete destruction all over Milly’s face. I hate that I can’t give her this. More than anything.
I fall to the floor with her and pull her onto my lap. And that’s how we stay for the rest of the night.
The ice cream goes untouched.
Dinner isn’t mentioned.
And when she finally falls asleep, I slip her into our bed and get rid of all evidence of the pregnancy test. Again.
***
MILLY
“I really don’t feel like going,” I say as we sit in the car, parked outside of the spa.
“I know, babe, but I think it will be good for you. I know we don’t like to talk about it, but I’m not sure it’s healthy for you to hang out in our room, in the dark, like every other time we’ve had a negative test.”
My eyes well up with tears. “I don’t think I can put on a show today.”
He bites his bottom lip and he looks out the windshield. “I might have let something slip to Knox yesterday.”
My eyes shoot up. “You told him?” I ask, panic racing through my heart.
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I mentioned how the vacation was good, helped clear our minds, something like that. I think he caught on, because he was pushing me with questions. I ignored them, but I’m pretty sure he knows something’s up.”
“Carson, you know he asked Emory about it.”
“Which is why I mention it, because when Knox asked you to join Emory, I know it was because I said something. I don’t think she’s going to pry. I think she just needs some company.”
I glance out the window at the high-rise building cloaked in black stone. “I don’t think I can fake these feelings much longer.”
“Then why not talk to her about it?”
“Because pregnancy came easy to her. She won’t understand.”
“Milly.” Carson turns in his seat. “Just because she doesn’t understand the pain we’ve gone through, doesn’t mean she won’t show empathy, or that she won’t listen. You know I love you, but I can’t be your only outlet when it comes to infertility. You have to talk about it.”
A tear cascades down my cheek and Carson quickly wipes it away.
“You’re hurting, Milly. Let people in so you don’t have to hurt alone.”
Just then, I spot someone waving from the sidewalk.
“Shit, there she is,” I say quietly.
“No backing down now.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “Try to relax and if the conversation comes up naturally, maybe give it a chance, okay?”
I nod, even though I feel really uneasy about it. I wipe at my face and ask, “Does it look like I’ve been crying?”
He gently takes my cheeks in his palms and turns my head back and forth. Then he smiles. “Promise, you’re good. Beautiful as ever. And you know what? Even if you did look like you were crying, I don’t think you need to hide that pain anymore. Give it a chance, talk about it, let it be known. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Milly. The support, the community, it might help.”
“I don’t want people asking us every two seconds how it’s going.”
“Then say that. We’ll tell them if we have news, but in the meantime, this is where we’re at.” He kisses me again. “I’ll pick you up when you’re done. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I give him one more kiss and then exit out of the car, mustering up my best smile when Emory comes running up to me, arms open.
“Milly, look at you all tan. God, I’m jealous.” She squeezes me hard and then unfolds from me. “You’re so sun-kissed. Greece must have been amazing.”
I think about the time I spent in Carson’s arms, not doing anything, just being lazy.
It was amazing, to have those moments with him. It’s rare when our lives get to slow down like that. Where we don’t have to worry about his schedule or mine matching up. It was nice to just take a deep breath and live in the moment, with him wrapped around me.
“I want to go back already.”
“Don’t blame you.” She nods toward the building. “I hope you don’t mind, but Dottie will be joining us.”
“Oh really?” I ask, nerves blooming in my stomach.
Emory pauses. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” I say, swallowing back my worry. “I haven’t seen her in a while, plus she has the best stories about Jason.”
She laughs. “Her impressions are so spot on.” Emory holds the door open for me and we both walk in.
“Welcome to The Retreat,” the receptionist says. She must be new because I don’t recognize her. “You must be Mrs. Gentry and Mrs. Stone.”
“That would be us,” Emory says.
“Wonderful. Mrs. Orson is already here. Would you like us to show you back to the changing room?”
Emory waves her hand at the receptionist. “We’re veterans at this point. No need. But if you can send back some of that passionfruit juice, it would be amazing.”
“We’ll bring some right away.”
Together, we walk to the changing room, which really isn’t a changing room, more like a fancy lounge where women lie about in robes snacking on finger foods, drink juice that derives from the heavens, and listen to stress-reducing music.
When we weave through the entrance, we immediately spot Dottie lying on a chase lounge, passionfruit juice in hand—hers with vodka in it most likely—wearing a robe, the complimentary slippers, and her hair tied up. She’s relaxed and ready.
“Let me guess,” Emory says, hand on her hip. “Jason was driving you nuts, so you got here early to get away from him.”
“The man never stops,” Dottie says in an exhausted tone. “But dear God, I love him so much. It’s really disturbing.”
We both chuckle.
She motions to the changing rooms hidden behind curtains. “Hurry up and change, I need to tell you about Jason’s waffle maker.”
“That sounds promising,” Emory says, leading the way to the changing rooms. She takes the one on the left, leaving me to the room on the right. I part the curtain and then close it. I’ve been here a few times with the girls, so I know the drill. I slip my shirt and leggings off and fold them neatly. I catch a glance of myself in the mirror and pause.
My stomach is slightly swollen from where I’ve injected hormone shot after hormone shot, but other than that, everything else is flat. I rest my hand over my belly, wondering if I’ll ever carry a child.
After getting my period early this morning, a lovely four-in-the-morning wake-up call, I have serious doubts that this will ever happen for us.