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“I was going to pick up some fish oil too for more omega-3s, but I thought you might not love it.”
“Why not?”
“Fishy burps.”
“Say no more.”
She stands awkwardly, folding her arms over her waist, then letting them fall to her sides.
“I don’t want you to think I expect anything,” Megan says suddenly. Her voice falters at the end, as if it has gone with her confidence.
She’s so petite, and she seems so small in my loft. And yet it’s as if her voice, her presence, consumes the space and I wonder what it’s going to feel like when she’s gone.
“I mean, if this isn’t part of your plan, I don’t want this to be the reason…” She stops and doesn’t finish the thought.
I sit on my sofa. She furrows her brow beneath that thick curtain of dark hair, but I worry she’s going to be even more upset when I tell her what I need to.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Derek, it’s really okay,” she says, her voice low, a little too neutral. As if she’s working at it.
“My wife had three miscarriages.”
She freezes. I feel the confusion crackling off her.
“Your wife?”
“Ex-wife. My ex-wife,” I say, wiping my hand down my face. “She uh, she had three miscarriages.” I stare at the floor, at her delicate bare feet against the hardwood planks. They walk toward me and stop just in front of my own feet.
“I’m sorry,” she says. She places her hands lightly against my shoulders, pressing gentle warmth into me. Her knees knock into mine. Even if she’s only known she’s pregnant for a matter of hours, in the weight of her sympathy, I already know she’s going to be an incredible mother.
“I’m a carrier for a chromosomal defect. She was as well. It was bad luck.”
Her fingers thread through my hair, pushing it off my forehead. Her touch through my hair is soothing, and I don’t stop her.
“After the third one, she hemorrhaged. It was bad. The doctors did everything they could, but if we’d been even an hour later in getting to the ER, she wouldn’t have made it.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again. She continues combing through my hair as her other hand curls around my neck, lightly massaging the muscles.
“She’s pregnant now. I think I mentioned that?”
Megan nods, rocking back on her heels. But I can’t take her moving away from me yet. I grab on to her hips and hold her where she is, looking up into her eyes.
“She’s remarried. She’s already halfway through the pregnancy, completely healthy.”
“That’s wonderful,” she says, cautiously.
“I’m happy for her. She was always meant to be a mother, and now she gets to do that.”
“But you’re sad it’s not with you?” Her voice is so soft, so sad.
I cup her cheek and shake my head. “No, not at all.” I rub my thumb over her cheek, her skin so soft it makes me want to curl around her and press myself against her for as long as it takes to forget this worry. “If she can do this, if she can have a healthy pregnancy… then maybe it was never her?”
“Oh, Derek,” Megan says, brushing her fingers over the sides of my head and holding me, gently stroking my temples.
“I’m sorry, princess. We’ll need to do genetic testing. I’ll pay for everything. And if decisions need to be made, I’ll be there every step of the way. Of course I won’t—”
She presses her lips to mine. They’re soft and warm and like a balm for everything that is aching and panicked inside me.
