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“Paid for a private grooming session.”
For a dog or for himself? “I didn’t think we did those.”
Evan shrugs. “You do when the price is right.”
Okay. I follow him out of the salon, and we cross the street to a small wooded patch that passes for a park in this neighborhood. I take a seat on the bench where I usually eat lunch, and Evan joins me.
I stare at him expectantly.
He takes a breath. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, his eyes matching the clear sky above as he gazes at me.
I dampen my lips. “Oh?”
He takes my hand in his. “I’m sorry about the way I acted when you told me about Reagan. You had every right not to share all the details of your life with me and?—”
“No.” I swallow. “I should’ve told you. I wanted to tell you. I just?—”
“It’s okay.” He squeezes my hand. “I also want to make something clear: I don’t dislike kids. Not at all. I never would have volunteered at the camp if that were the case. Also, as it turns out, your kid is particularly likeable.”
He totally is—though I’m admittedly biased. “Now I feel even worse about what I said about you.”
Evan waves it off. “You saw me with a mangled Pikachu in my hand, and I said something about some brat. It wasn’t a completely unreasonable accusation. It just hurt to hear it after we’d gotten to know each other. Plus, you’re not the first woman to say it to me.”
I frown. “I’m not?”
Evan releases my hand. “There’s something I should’ve told you as well. Something private.”
My heart sinks. Is Evan about to tell me he’s married? Engaged? I brace myself for the worst.
“I had a vasectomy,” he says, as if admitting something shameful.
That’s not at all what I expected him to say. A vasectomy? When? Why?
“Women would always break up with me after I told them about it,” Evan continues. “Which is why I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, and I was going to, soon, but?—”
“You thought I would break up with you. Like the others,” I say, staring at him.
“Will you?”
Does that mean we aren’t already broken up? And what about the whole no-labels thing?
“I won’t,” I say firmly. Because whatever we call or don’t call this thing between us, his vasectomy is definitely not a problem for me.
“Because you already have a son?” he asks, his face brightening.
“That, and because…” I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “I can’t have any more kids.”
Evan’s eyes widen. “Oh. Are you?—”
“Remember my dislike of hospitals because I almost died in one?”
He nods.
“That was when I was giving birth to Reagan.” I take in a deep breath and wipe away the dust that’s gotten into my eyes for some reason. “After saving me, the surgeon told me that I’m unlikely to ever get pregnant naturally again.”
Evan grabs my hand again and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I feel especially fine when he holds my hand the way he does. “If I desperately want another kid in the future, there are options like IVF.” It’s extremely expensive, but everything medical is. “Can I ask why you got the vasectomy?”
