My heart breaks for my husband.
After my fibroid surgery, the doctor said there was no reason why I wouldn’t get pregnant. When we continued failing, though, the doctor took a look at Paul. Low sperm motility was the term he used. Might as well have been a death sentence. Paul was devastated and hasn’t been the same since.
I know he feels inadequate because he can’t get me pregnant. I want to argue, to tell him that it’s not his fault. But it’s late, and he’s drunk.
So, I slip my hand into the waistband of his shorts and look in his eyes when I say, “I’m yours, Paul. You’re the only man I want.”
I once meant this with every fiber of my being. Now, I say it because I know it’s what he needs to hear.
His eyes close as he groans. “Again.”
My lips brush against his, and I squeeze his hardening length. “I’m yours. I belong to you.”
He yanks the straps of my dress down my shoulders and fumbles with the clasp on my bra. I reach behind my back and unsnap it for him, letting it drop to the floor.
He kisses me, sloppy and aggressive. He stumbles as he walks me backwards toward the staircase, his movements clumsy. Pushing me against the wall, he shoves my dress down the rest of the way and hikes my leg up around his waist. He’s too unstable to take his time, to touch me the way I like. Once he frees himself from his pants, he plunges inside me, fast and hard.
I stifle the groan that shoots into my throat, swallowing the pain.
We’re not making love tonight.
This isn’t about me.
It’s about him.
And I succumb.
Things are easier when I just comply.
Eight
Cole
Five Years Ago
“Top off. Now.”
Penny tears her shirt over her head and flings it somewhere across the room.
I shuck my pants and kick them behind me.
I grip Penny by the back of her neck and kiss her hard, my tongue plunging into her sweet mouth. She opens wider for me, letting a little moan escape as she drags her fingernails through my hair.
“I’ve been dying to be inside you all night, Penny.”
I hoist her up and walk us to the edge of my mattress. When I drop her down, her hair fans out on the white pillowcase like a dark river I want to drown in. My hands slide down her tight body, working the button on her pants before I yank them off. I drop my mouth to her stomach, kissing and nipping and licking every inch of exposed skin.
“Thank you for coming to dinner tonight,” she says, squirming underneath me. “It means so much to me that you were willing to meet my parents.”
“I’d do anything for you, Penny.” I unsnap the clasp on her bra and toss it over my shoulder. “I want to give you everything and make you happy, because you make me the happiest man alive.”
She takes my face in both of her hands and gazes at me with watery eyes.
My hands still, everything coming to a halt. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, and a tear escapes, rolling down the swell of her cheek. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. You are perfect.”
I lean onto my side and pull her close until we’re nose to nose. “I love you, Penelope Murdoch. I don’t know if this is too soon to say this, but I honestly don’t care. I love you, and I’m going to make you my wife one day.”
She touches her forehead to mine. “I love you, Cole, and I can’t wait to be your wife.”
I place a chaste kiss on her lips, brushing her tears away with my thumb. “I don’t have the kind of money you’re used to. I don’t think your parents would approve of you marrying someone like me.”
“I don’t need money. All I need is you. My parents will see how well you treat me, how happy you make me. That’s all that matters. Me and you.”
“Just the two of us, Penn. Forever.”
“And maybe a little one running around too.” Her smile fades, and her eyes suddenly go wide. “Oh, no. What if you don’t want kids? We didn’t talk about this. We didn’t have any of the important talks we’re supposed to have!”
I chuckle, rolling onto my back and pulling her on top of me. “Of course I want kids. I want to make a family with you. Watch your beautiful belly grow. Hold our baby in my arms and rock him or her back to sleep in the middle of the night.”
“Her. I think our first one will be a her.”
My eyebrows lift. “Is that right?”
She giggles as she nods. “I just feel it.”
“Okay. A little girl that looks just like her mama. I’m down with that.”
She rolls her hips against me. “What do you say we start practicing?”
“I say I love the way you think.”
Penny leans in and presses her lips to mine. “I’m going to love you forever, Cole.”
“Me too, Penny.”
Always.
Nine
Cole
“No.”
Josie throws her hands up. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not a babysitter.”
“You’re right. You’re not.” She folds her arms over her chest. “You’re an uncle.”
“No.”
A frustrated growl rips from her throat. “You’re impossible! I don’t understand why you can’t watch the kids for two measly hours so your big sister can go to dinner for her anniversary.”
“I don’t understand how you can’t understand why that might be hard for me.”
“Why don’t you help me understand, Cole?”
I shake my head. “Forget it.”
“Exactly.” Josie huffs out a laugh and runs her fingers through her hair. “How can I understand anything that goes on in that head of yours if you don’t talk to me? You never talk to me.”
“Nothin’ to talk about.”
“If you won’t talk to me, maybe you should talk to a professional. Callie sees a therapist and—”
“No!” My fists clench at my sides. “End of discussion.”
She blows a puff of air through her lips. “The boys have been looking forward to watching Star Wars with you all week. All you’d have to do is press play, and they’ll sit there. I’ll put the twins down before I leave, so you won’t have to deal with poopy diapers or bottles or anything.”
“It’s not about the diapers or the feeding, Josie.”
She steps closer to me. “Then what is it about?”
I stare into her eyes, ashamed to say it aloud, the words burning my tongue like acid.
It’s about being alone with the kids.
Unaccompanied.
Unsupervised.
Trusted.
My chin drops, and my voice quivers. “You shouldn’t want me to watch your kids.”
Josie’s lips part, eyes widening in surprise. “Cole, what happened is not your fault. You—”
“Don’t.” My razor-sharp tone causes her shoulders to jump. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
She chews her bottom lip, and I know she wants to press on. My sister isn’t one to leave anything well enough alone.