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Ada sat at the edge of the ledge, her feet dangling into the abyss, moonlight illuminating her form as she lifted the whisky bottle to her lips, taking a long swig.
The anger swirling in my chest instantly dissolved when I noticed the set of her shoulders.
Not strong and proud like usual. Drooping. Beaten.
What the hell was this about? She was good—we were good.
I walked slowly toward her, not wanting to surprise her, even though I knew she could feel my presence from a hundred feet away, just the same as I could feel her.
She was sitting high on a mountain, drinking by herself in the dead of night. There was no telling what would surprise her at the moment.
My feet shuffled to a stop next to her. She didn’t look up at me, just twisted the bottle of whisky in her hands.
“What is going on with you, Ada?”
“Why does anything have to be going on with me to want to get cozy with a bottle of whisky?” Her words were slightly slurred and I looked at the oval bottle in her hands. Yep. The Macallan.
Half gone.
I sat down next to her, dropping my lower legs off the edge of the rock. “Well, I’ve never known you to do so, so I can only imagine something has changed that I am not aware of. That, or you are pissed at me for my cunning spin with that blow I managed to hit your leg with earlier today.”
Her head swiveled to me, her look set to daggers. “It was a lucky spin.”
I smirked. “Good to know.” My countenance sobered. “But then that leaves the other option, if you’re not upset with me. What has sent you up here to swim in a bottle like that?”
Her gaze set forward as her lips pressed inward together for a long moment. “I got my courses today. I’m not pregnant.” She lifted the bottle to her lips and took another swallow.
Shit.
My breath caught in my chest. She’d never voiced it, but I knew how much she was worried on this very thing. “You are sure? Sometimes there is bleeding that does not negate a pregnancy.”
Her arms spread wide, her right hand setting the bottle of whisky down onto the ground next to her. “Check me, then.”
I studied her profile for a moment, the moonlight casting shadows over half of her face. Half in light, half in the dark.
It always was with us.
Never happiness without despair.
My throat closing tight, I leaned toward her, setting my left hand on her lower abdomen, searching deep within her body for her womb. Searching for the flutter against my palm that would tell me something was living deep inside of her.
I shifted my hand. Shifted it again.
No flutter. No heartbeat.
I shook my head, withdrawing my hand. My face stoic, hiding my own disappointment.
I wanted this. More than I cared to admit, I wanted her bound to me for life through a child. More than one. More than two. More than a dozen. As many as she was willing to give me.
Her mouth drew tight, her bottom lip jutting up hard and she looked away from me. “Failure. Again.” The softest, heartbreaking whisper from her lips.
“Ada, don’t do this to yourself.”
Her look swung to me. “You know, it didn’t bother me. Once Venny came into my life, it didn’t bother me. She became my daughter and I became a mother. Venny took up all of my energy, so it didn’t matter.”
“What didn’t matter?”
“That I never got pregnant by you.” A heart-wrenching ache vibrated in her voice.
