“Club stuff or baby stuff?”
“Both.” There are no secrets between my brother and me. He’s the one person I’ve leaned on throughout the last seven years. I may not share the details of club business, but he knows the pressure I’m under. And he sure as fuck knows the battles I’ve faced with Birdie. At times, he’s been the glue that’s helped keep us together.
“How’s Birdie? I haven’t spoken with her for a week or so.”
I scrub a hand over my face and exhale. “I knew this cycle was going to be hard on her, but it’s a new level of hard. She’s obsessing over things far worse than she usually does.”
Max whistles. “That’s saying something; I didn’t think it possible for her to obsess any more than she already did.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how to help her. I’ve reached the end of the line. At this point, I’m just going along with shit to keep the peace.”
“Fuck, brother, that’s gotta be hard.”
“It’s harder watching her break.” I look at him. “I won’t do this again. I can’t do this again. I’ve watched the woman I love lose herself and I refuse to let her hand another piece of her soul over to this. I need to save her.”
“You also need to save yourself,” he says softly, and fuck if it isn’t one of the truest things he’s ever said.
“I need to save us.”
We turn silent for a while before I ask, “How’s shit for you?”
“Georgia and I are talking marriage.”
I grin, happier for him than he’ll ever know. He’s been with Georgia for three years and I’ve waited for this moment. “It’s about fucking time. When are you proposing?”
“I’ll buy the ring this week while I’m here and then I’m taking her to Hawaii in a couple of weeks. I’ll propose there.”
“The boys will be happy.” His sons love Georgia as much as he does.
“Yeah, they’re coming to Hawaii with us. They know I’m proposing. I ran it by them first, just to get a feel for their thoughts. To say they were excited is an understatement.”
“This is good fucking news. I’m happy for you.”
He smiles. “Thanks, Matt.” The upbeat happiness I heard in his voice when he told me he was proposing is now gone, replaced with some heaviness. I know where that’s coming from; Max hates watching Birdie and me struggle. He’s walked this journey with us every step of the way and felt every bit of our pain. He might hate that we still don’t have a child, but I hate that this journey has impacted him, too. Infertility is a bitch that has taken not only from Birdie and me, but also from those we love.
22
Birdie
* * *
“We’re going to go through the garden shed this weekend and get rid of the chemicals in there,” I say to Lily over the phone as I stir the spaghetti I’m cooking for dinner. It’s Max’s favourite.
“How does Winter feel about this? Isn’t he hard-core about weeds and shit? Like, what will he use instead?”
“Oh, I’ve got a list for him to choose from. He’s good. We’ll pick the stuff up after we go to IKEA on Sunday.”
“God, I wish King was as easy about doing the stuff I want him to do. He argued with me this morning when I suggested we should add shelves to our wardrobe. He told me if I’d stop buying clothes, I wouldn’t need the shelves. Like, just build them already and stop arguing with me when we both know he’ll eventually just do what I ask. Why do men have to be so damn stubborn about admitting we’re right?”
“Right? Also, why do they have to want a say in things around the house that we all know they don’t even give a fuck about? I set up my meditation cushion and stuff in our walk-in robe because we have so much space in there and Winter is barely in there, but the minute it was set up, he was all over me about it.”
“I hear ya, sister.” She sighs as I hear Winter’s ute pull into the garage. “I love my man, but he’s hard work sometimes.”
“Speaking of men, I have to go. Mine just got home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you, girl.”
We end the call and I turn to watch for Winter and Max coming in the house. Max’s face is the one I see first, and I smile big as I open my arms to give him a hug.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says as he wraps me in his arms. “How are you?”
I cling to him for a little bit longer than I usually do. It’s been five months since I’ve seen him, and I’ve missed him so much. When I let him go, I keep hold of his arms and say, “I’m doing okay. How are you?”
His eyes narrow on me. “Only okay?”
I smile and let him go. “I’m sure Winter’s told you all about my moods.”
“He hasn’t,” Winter says, joining us. His hand goes to my waist and his mouth to mine for a quick kiss as he moves past us.
“No, he hasn’t told me about your moods,” Max confirms. “But based on the fact you’ve confessed your moods throughout every IVF cycle you’ve done, I figured that was a given. I just wanna know how you’re doing with everything else.”
“I love you, Maxxi. And I think okay really is the best way to describe how I’m doing. I’m hanging in there. Winter is doing all the believing for me.”
“Well add me to the list of believers. I’ve got all the faith in the world for you.” He angles his face up like he’s sniffing something. “Is that spaghetti I can smell?”
“Yes. And I made your favourite cheesecake for dessert. We’re celebrating that you’re here for the week. I can’t remember the last time you stayed so long.”
Winter finishes filling the fridge with the few groceries he picked up for me and says, “We’ve got something else to celebrate, too. Max has news.”
My eyes widen at Max. “Tell me!”
Max grins. “I’m going to propose to Georgia in a couple of weeks and since she and I have already talked marriage, I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes.”
“Oh my God, this is the best news!” I throw myself at him with another big hug. When I let him go, I say, “I’m so excited and happy for you.”
Winter reaches up into the cupboards for the whisky and two glasses while I ask Max a thousand questions about how he’s going to propose. Handing Max a glass, he says, “To the second part of your life, brother. I know Georgia is going to make it good.”
Max’s eyes meet Winter’s and they exchange a look. It’s the look I sometimes see them give each other. Because I only know their relationship from the outside, I don’t know exactly what it means, but I do know I like whenever they exchange it. Winter always seems happy at the time, and that’s all I want for him. Max, too.
They take their drinks out to the deck while I finish preparing dinner. Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting around the table out there eating and catching up.
“So tell me, Birdie,” Max says, leaning back in his chair, “has Winter managed to fuck more shit up at your work since the last time we spoke?”