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Scoffing, Miles throws the napkin back at me. “Did you ever stop to think that anything Levi said was bullshit? He cheated on you, so anything he said is questionable. He would have said anything to not place the blame on himself. You were a good boyfriend to him. He didn’t appreciate you.”
Hating to say it, but knowing he needs to know, I tell Miles, “No, he was right. I’m not soft or nurturing. I wanted to be better, but I just couldn’t. I was gruff, I was short, sometimes impatient. I wasn’t fit for him. Not really.”
With sympathetic eyes, Miles says, “That was years ago, Rome. Seven years to be exact. You can’t base anything off that relationship. You’ve been cutting yourself off since you found him with his legs in the air.” I really wish I hadn’t told him that. “You’ve grown since then. You’re different. Don’t put that on your assistant—”
“Benjamin,” I interrupt.
He inclines his head. “Don’t put Benjamin in Levi’s position. Just … give him a chance.”
“I yelled at him today,” I mention, wanting him to know why I feel like Levi might have been right. “I yelled at him because he didn’t want to talk to me instead of asking him when he would be ready to talk. I haven’t changed much.”
Miles taps the table with two fingers. “You know what you did, and you acknowledged it. Would you have done that seven years ago?”
That question swirls around my head as I take an Uber home. Since I had four shots and a beer, there was no way I was driving home—I’ll pick up my car in the morning.
Would I have acknowledged my mistake while I was with Levi?
Doubtful. I also can’t blame the entire breakup on Levi. He told me what he needed and I ignored him. I thought I had plenty of time to fix whatever needed to be fixed when I had my life under control. But that was never to be. There was always a new case, always a new client, always a promotion, always a new goal to achieve. Always something to strive for instead of striving to make my mate happy.
No wonder he cheated.
I scoff, causing the driver to give me a weird look in the rearview mirror.
It’s been years, but I won’t blame myself for Levi cheating anymore. He could have just broken things off, not crushed my entire world when I walked into my apartment to find Levi fucking another alpha while my heart was breaking. When they finally separated after they noticed my presence, I saw it was Levi’s yoga instructor. The one he told me over and over not to worry about. I should have worried.
Lying in bed after a quick shower—not the same bed Levi fucked his new mate in, or the same house for that matter—I stare at the ceiling and think about my conversation with Miles. I don’t know what the right answer is. I’d like to think I’ve changed, but who knows?
Turning to my side, I think about my feelings for Benjamin. Something in me always felt that there was more. The way we danced around each other, our back and forth, our animosity, it felt like anger and aggression, but was it more? Was it the both of us feeling something, but not being able to put it into words?
His scent has been driving me crazy and it burrowed into me from the first moment he was in the same room as me. Looking into his eyes and talking to him always made me feel like there was something bigger there. Was it more than the growing attraction I felt?
Punching my pillow, I turn over to my other side and try to get some sleep. Thinking about this makes me feel on edge. Benjamin should be in bed with me. He should be here so I can hold him until he falls asleep. He should be mine.
Chapter 5
Benji
“Giveittomestraight, doc,” I say, not wanting him to beat around the bush. He has that detached, clinical look on his face and I can almost feel what he’s about to say. But I don’t want to guess. I need to hear the words.
My palms are clammy and a feeling of dread starts to swirl around my belly. No matter what Brandon told me about not worrying, it’s all I’ve been doing and I see that it hasn’t been in vain.
Pursing his lips, Dr. Stevens dips his head and pulls out my medical file. After flipping a few pages, he laces his hands on his desk and looks at me. “Mr. Hendrix—”
“You’re about to give me bad news. May as well be on a first name basis,” I say in a monotone voice.
Dr. Stevens doesn’t react in any way, besides shifting his eyes back down to my chart. “Benjamin,” he says, sending an unexpected thrill through me. Only Rome calls me Benjamin. Shaking myself, I give Dr. Stevens my attention. I shouldn’t be worried about Rome while my dreams are being crushed.
“Yes, Dr. Stevens?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” he starts and my heart contracts, all hope dashed. “The likelihood of you conceiving is less than three percent.” I try to keep my face impassive and my tears at bay. Dr. Stevens doesn’t get my tears. They’re private.
“Did the surgery not work?” I ask, proud of myself for keeping my voice level.
“Your adhesions were removed and your womb looks good and healthy, but your strain of Weylet’s also attacked your eggs.” Sighing, he closes my file and sits back, looking at me with sad eyes. “You’re supposed to have four hundred thousand eggs throughout your life. The number you have is only forty.”
My breath catches. Such a low number. I’m supposed to be in the six digits, and I only have two. Forty opposed to four hundred thousand. What are the chances that sperm catches one of my forty eggs? Three percent obviously. It’s not zero, but that chance is so small that it may as well be.
Continuing with his devastating news, Dr. Stevens says, “The chance of pregnancy is too low to try to give you much hope. I’m so sorry.”
