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When the doctor walks in a few minutes later, Emma uses my arm to tow herself upright.
“How are we doing today?” the gray-haired doctor asks with the kind of false cheery tone that inspires nothing but doubt.
When no one answers him, he turns his attention to the ultrasound. Emma doesn’t give him long. “W-was I pregnant, doctor?” she stammers. “Did I lose the baby?”
The doctor turns to her with pursed lips and a carefully constructed mask of professional sympathy. “Ms. Carson, I’m… I’m afraid there was no baby to lose.”
“Oh.” Her face drops instantly.
“I understand you’ve been trying. The thing is… it might be difficult for you to get pregnant at all.”
This time, it’s my face that drops. “What do you mean?” I bark. “Explain.”
“The ultrasound shows a blocked fallopian tube.”
Emma sucks in a breath. “You mean… I can’t get pregnant?”
“No, no,” he answers quickly, fidgeting with the stethoscope around his neck. “It’s not impossible. It’s just… not going to beeasy. The odds are not in your favor.”
I notice the tear running down her cheek. I understand her sadness; I understand her disappointment.
What I don’t understand ismine.
Up until a few months ago, fatherhood was a curse I did my damndest to avoid. Until just a few nights ago, it was a duty I wanted to run from.
When did it become something I actuallywant?
64
EMMA
When I’m finally discharged from the hospital, Ruslan insists on taking me back to the penthouse.
It feels weird coming here when sex is off the table. Almost as though it’s a waste of the apartment. Somehow, it all feels like a waste now.
Does all that incredible sex we’ve had mean nothing if nothing comes out of it?
Does he regret choosing me?
I’m aware that I’m not thinking rationally. My head hurts. My ankle hurts. My heart hurts.Everythinghurts. But I can’t pull myself out of the downward spiral.
I sit at the edge of his bed, staring out at the view, trying to imagine what my life will look like if I never get to carry a baby of my own, never raise a child of my own. Is this ache in my chest permanent? Will it ease with time or will I have to learn to live with it?
“Emma.”
I accept the glass of water Ruslan’s offering me but I don’t take a sip despite how parched I am. It feels like every inch of motion requires energy I just don’t have. And then, beneath that, it feels like I don’t deserve the water, or his affection, or anything but this thudding, pounding, grinding ache in my chest.
He takes the glass off my hands but just when I think he’s about to set it down, he brings it to my lips instead. All I do is swallow; he does the rest. When I’ve finished every last drop, he unzips my dress and pulls it off me. He strips off my underwear, too.
I’m struck by how different this experience is. Ruslan has undressed me a hundred times in the past. But this time is different. He’s gentle. He takes it slow. He doesn’t touch me except for when he needs to. The half-crazed look of passion and hunger that I’m used to seeing in his eyes is gone. Instead, his eyebrows pull together, his lips pursed down as if he’s concentrating. I can only guess at what he’s feeling.
He has to be disappointed, too, right? He was counting on me to give him an heir.
But instead, he got stuck with the dud woman and her dud fallopian tube.
I bet he’s regretting that new contract now.
Then again, Ruslan Oryolov always thinks ahead. He probably has a hidden clause in our contract for just such a circumstance.In the event that Party B (henceforth known as “The Dud”) is unable to fulfill her contractually obligated duties as set forth in the preceding sections, Party A (henceforth known as “The Boss”) will kick The Dud to the curb and replace her with a woman who possesses a functioning fallopian tube (and no gag reflex).
