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And damn if I’m not one lucky sonofabitch.
The Next Hit
Claire
I hate how nervous I get when I come to our fertility center.
My skin always breaks out in gooseflesh, and my heart never goes below a hundred and twenty beats per minute. According to my Fitbit, I’m working out when I come here. I don’t know if it’s nerves that get me or if it’s just pure fear. Maybe both? I hate letting Jude down. Hell, I hate letting myself down. I’m not used to losing. I’ve worked very hard my whole life. I somehow stayed alive when my mom couldn’t care for me, and I stayed untouched by the nasty men she would bring home. I survived. When Phillip got custody of me, I didn’t think he could care for me. He was a single hockey player, he liked the fast life, and he sure as hell didn’t want to care for a kid. He proved me wrong, though. He has been my rock since I came to him. He gave me the tools I needed to succeed, and I used them to make a great life. I made some bad decisions here and there and felt as if I failed or let someone down, but it never felt like this.
The feeling of being ripped to shreds because you can’t give your loving husband a baby.
It’s torture.
I inhale deeply as I kick my feet back and forth from where I am sitting on the exam table. While I am nervous about seeing my doctor, I’m more nervous about seeing Tristan today. That doesn’t happen a lot. I’m usually really excited, but Jude’s comments kept me up all night. I played out every single scenario in my brain. If Tristan was involved, if she wasn’t, and everything in between. I get what Jude is saying, but I worry that she would regret it. That she would miss the baby. Or maybe I’m thinking only what I would feel. I miss my nieces and nephews like a part of me is absent, and they aren’t even mine. This is Tristan’s child, and she doesn’t want to be a part of its life? I can’t comprehend it.
But then, he won’t be hers—he’ll be ours.
I know people do this a lot. Young women who want better for their children, but with Tristan, I want to feel it’s different. I want her to care, to be involved. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I don’t think she wants to be. It freaks me out, and it’s going to be a hard conversation, but I need to speak to her about it. I just wish Jude were here with me.
I hate when he’s gone. I miss him terribly, but it’s the name of the game. The good news is that they accepted our offer on the house, and we close in a couple weeks. It frightens me to think we’ll be bringing a baby on a plane and then to a brand-new house that neither of us has lived in, but that’s our life. That’s our normal, and our boy will adjust. He’ll adjust because we love him. I don’t even know him yet, but I’m so in love with him. I can’t wait to be a mom. But most of all, I can’t wait to see Jude as a dad. My ovaries always feel like they’re going to explode watching him with our nieces and nephews. He’s gorgeous as all hell.
When the door opens, it brings me out of my head, and my gaze settles on Dr. Livingston. She is a young doctor, around my age, and has been with us since the beginning. A small smile sits on her face as she pushes her chestnut hair off her shoulders.
“How are you feeling?”
I nod, my fingers squeezing the shit out of each other. “Good. I’m following the keto diet hardcore, like you asked, and I only tried to kill Jude twice when he came home with a Snickers.”
She snorts, but she isn’t smiling like I want. “That’s wonderful, and it shows. Unfortunately, you’re not pregnant. But the great news is, you are ovulating.”
You’d think by now I’d be used to those words, but every time, it’s like a brand-new stab wound to my chest. I even knew I wasn’t pregnant—I took a test last night—but fresh tears still burn my eyes. Wait. I’m ovulating?
“I am?”
“Yeah,” she says happily. “Everything is looking really good. Your lining and uterus look strong. Way better than it had been looking, which is why I wanted you to try keto. The research on what it does for infertility is pretty impressive.”
“So, I could get pregnant on my own?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to promise that.” She sits on her stool and scoots toward me, leaning forward. “Listen, I know you guys are adopting, so we can wait, but what about another round of in vitro?”
My stomach drops. We’ve been through four rounds, and I lost each baby. Sometimes multiples. Not being pregnant is one thing, but losing babies… Man… That’s a whole different kind of hell. Especially when you pay so damn much money to get it done, which is why we were looking for surrogates.
“Is it a better chance than last time?”
She looks over the chart again, and then she leans over to turn on the iPad. Soon, the ultrasounds of my uterus are showing. She moves her fingers along the screen, explaining what she thinks, but it’s all mumbo jumbo to me. I just want her to look at me and tell me it will work, that we’ll get pregnant, but I know she can’t do that. Man, I wish Jude were here. I hold my hand up as a tear slides down my cheek.
“So, we’d do it now?”
She nods. “I have both samples. We can do it today.”
“Now?”
“Now. I think it could work.”
“Could?”
“I give it solid seven-in-ten odds.”
More tears. “You’re not screwing with me?”
