Page 8 of One Last Time

“We’ll be starting the final round of IVF soon—I got the call today.”

Andino’s smile grew. “Okay.”

“But we’re clear on this, right? It’s the last time, Andi. I don’t want to do it again.”

Sometimes, it was devastating in the way that they could be so sure it had happened—she had to be pregnant—only to find out that it didn’t take. Why, if her body was so healthy, and she had managed to produce three children—a fourth pregnancy had ended in a D & C because it was ectopic—without any medical intervention, was this so difficult now? It made Haven feel a lot of things about herself that hurt. And she didn’t want to keep struggling like that with every new round.

“It’s the last one,” he agreed. “Whatever you want, I told you that.”

She let out a slow breath, but stayed quiet.

Andino didn’t miss it.

“That’s not what’s wrong, though, is it?”

“No,” she admitted. “Part of it, I suppose.”

Andino waited her out.

Haven felt silly.

“I get in this headspace where I feel like I can’t talk about the IVF or anything else,” she said.

“Why?”

How simple that question was. The answer was anything but. It went right back to what she already said.

“Because look at our life, Andino. We have three children. There are people who don’t even have one child. People who have struggled for years. Who’ve done what we’ve been doing for a lot longer than we have. And I just … sometimes I wonder if people look at us and think we should just be grateful for what we have.”

After her rant, Haven fell silent. Apparently, her husband didn’t like that because he stood from the table, slow and graceful despite his large size. Picking up his glass, now empty of water, he carried it to the sink and placed it inside before he came up behind Haven. He fit in at her back perfectly, the hard lines of his chest molding against her softer ones. His mouth found the back of her neck; he kissed the ink coloring her skin there, and the newest one under her right ear that was just a simple cursive A.

For him.

Because of course she would imprint him permanently on her body. He was already her entire heart and soul. What did a little ink on her skin matter?

“We wanted more children, didn’t we?” he murmured against her skin.

“Yes.”

“And we struggled after Emily to be able to do that without help, yeah?”

“Yeah, but—”

“We have the means to have another child, and more than enough love to share, Haven. We want another child, and we’re doing what we need to do to have that child. Nobody gets to make you feel guilty for that.”

She let out a shaky breath.

He smiled against her skin.

“Now, let me take you to bed.”

“You’re terrible.”

“In the best way,” he agreed.

Her heart thundered. “Take me to bed, then.”

He did as she wanted, cradling her in his arms as he carried her up the stairs and down the hallway to their master bedroom with ease. She loved nothing more than the sight of her husband undressing her with his hands and his eyes and his mind. It was like she could see in his eyes all the lovely, sinful things he planned to do to her the very second he had her naked and under him in their bed.