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“If it went down, it’s unlikely there are survivors,” he murmured.
Aine nodded too. “I know.”
He tightened his arms around her. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, pulling back.
“Not at all,” she said, tightening her own grasp on him.
Again he was quiet for several minutes. When he did speak, he asked her to look at him.
“We have so much unfinished between us,” he murmured. “I love you. You know that.”
“I love you too, Griffin.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
“What about?” she asked.
“The test.”
Aine reached up and kissed his cheek. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll support.”
“I’m going to do it.”
“I will too.”
Regardless of the combined outcomes, chances were that one or both of them would be unable to have children—him by choice, and her by her inability to get pregnant.
“What’s involved?” Aine asked when Griffin didn’t say anything more.
“I have the kit with me. I’ve had it for weeks.”
“Do you have to go to a hospital?”
“No. I just swab the inside of my cheek, put it in the container, and drop it in the mail. Can you believe something so simple could irrevocably change my life?”
“Both our lives.” She rested her head back on his chest. “How long before you get the results?”
“Three to five weeks.”
“I have to wait six weeks before I can even take the test to see if my remaining ovary is functioning.”
“How long for the results?”
“I don’t know.”
Griffin kissed her forehead, and then both sides of her face, her eyelids, and then her lips. When a tear ran down her cheek, he kissed it away.
“We’ll wait and find out the results of both together.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“And, Aine?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever the outcome, we face it together too.”
She smiled at his use of the words she’d said to him at the hospital. “That’s all that matters to me, Griffin. That we’re together.”
