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Do what? Remind him what a fool he’d been, giving her and their marriage his total focus, his heart and soul, all of his energy, only to be told that he wasn’t enough to make her happy?
She had to have biological children of her own to be happy, she’d said. All she’d ever wanted was to feel her own baby growing inside her. To birth it and be a mother.
And she hadn’t been open to considering donor sperm and fertilization options. The idea of another man’s child growing inside her hadn’t thrilled Greg, but he’d been willing to deal with it, to give her what she’d needed. And he’d have taken on that child as his own in all ways. He had no doubts about that.
“This is really hard...” She paused as her voice dropped. In years past, he’d have softened at that tone, knelt down in front of her if she’d been seated, taken her hand, pledged to her that he’d do whatever he could...no way he could see himself doing that with Elaina. She’d never allow that. Not from him, or anyone.
“I...made a huge mistake, Greg,” she said, and started to cry. “I’m...s-so sorry. This is what I didn’t want...to do.” The words came out partly as a soft wail.
Compassion came, hung there, didn’t entirely possess him. “You’re fine,” he told her. She had no reason to apologize for tears. Or for anything else that had happened, either, he realized as he stood there. She’d been honest with him. Had needed something different from what he could give.
He was the one who’d been so determined to push for what he thought was best—saving their marriage at all costs. And as he stood there, he wasn’t even sure why he’d pushed so hard. It wasn’t like he’d missed Wendy horribly after she’d left. He’d missed being married. He’d missed having his future stretching before him in the way he’d envisioned.
He hadn’t missed feeling like he was damaged goods.
And if she’d loved him, really loved him, wouldn’t she have done something about that? At least tried to help him feel better about his infertility, rather than making it all about her?
“I...never should have left you, Greg. I was immature, thinking only of myself... I hate that I did that.”
“It’s good that you did,” he said, his brow clearing as he looked out at the body of water that carried massive energy to and from the shore every day. “We were traveling in separate directions and you saw that first.”
“No, that’s just it. It’s you I still love, Greg. I’ve been out there, seen what there is to see. I’ve dated some great guys. Heck, I’ve been married and had a child. But... I couldn’t make it work. He’s not you.”
Right. Him, now that she knew he could father a child?
“I might be too late, now that you’re having a child with someone else, but I swear, Greg, I was going to call six months ago, when I transferred back here. It’s why I came home. I didn’t know you’d moved on.”
She could have checked the hospital roster, though it sounded as though she’d only missed him by a matter of months.
“I heard about that woman who died...”
He nodded. Thought of Brooklyn, who he’d heard was doing better now that her mother understood that she had to take the medication. That it wasn’t a choice.
He’d never be able to make up for the mistake of another, never be able to bring back that patient who’d died while trusting him to make her well. But he could spend his days saving lives.
And know that he’d done all he could do.
“I moved back ready to tell you that I’ll adopt, I’ll consider in vitro, whatever you want or need...”
Eighteen months ago he would probably have been heading to his car at those words, ready to drive across the desert. Ask her to meet him halfway, go to Vegas with him and retie the knot.
As he stood there in his office, all he felt was relief that he knew better. Knew more. Settling for the fantasy, the picture of what you thought you wanted, wasn’t living.
Finding what made your heart throb...deep inside, not just from blood coursing through it...figuring out a way to stay where it throbbed...no matter if it fitted your picture or not...walking into the unknown with anticipation... That was real life.
Wendy wanted to move to Marie Cove. To buy a house with him. To take on co-parenting with him during the times he had visitation. And having a child of their own, too. She went on about having his sperm paired with her eggs in a petri dish, as many times as it took, for one to swim on over. Or adopting if that didn’t work.
He listened because that was what he did. Listening, understanding, trying to do what he could to make another feel better...
It wasn’t him being used. Being too much.
It was the best part of him.
The trait that made him a good doctor. Would make him a good dad, too.
And maybe, if he got lucky, it would make him into a lifelong friend to the mother of his child.
A woman he loved.
