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Before I can say any more, Nicky is around the table and sliding in the booth next to me. His arms wrap around my shoulders, and I concentrate hard not to cry.
“Tell me more,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.
“The chemo, the radiation, all of the drugs. There’s a chance it affected my ability to reproduce. That’s the reason I was in the doctor’s office last Friday. I went to talk about my options. Shaw wants kids. I wanted to give them to him. But now, even if it is possible, he’ll always have a child with another woman.” Air rushes out of my lungs at the confession.
“Son of a fucking bitch. Goddamnit, Bizzy, why didn’t you come talk to me? You’ve been dealing with this alone?”
“In case you forgot, since I got home two days ago, Shaw has been everywhere. He’s bossy and demanding and forcing me to talk to him. This is the one piece of me I’ve been internalizing. And besides, there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“But I get it. I’m the only fucking person that does. I know your fears. I have them, too.”
“You do?” I tilt my face to his.
“Yes, I was checked last year. It was a routine check-up, and when my doctor mentioned we could check my sperm, I went for
it.”
“And?”
“Motility, mobility, and all that shit look good. Only time will tell, but he was encouraging.”
“That’s good.”
“The point is, you’re not alone. Especially now.”
I nod and lay my head back on his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. It gives me hope.”
“Anytime, never thought you’d be interested in my sperm or I’d have mentioned it sooner.” His voice is laced with humor.
I pretend to gag and make a retching sound. “Now you’ve made it gross.”
He laughs, his chest shaking against my cheek.
“You know I love you, right?”
“I love you, too.”
“Well, good, because you ever hold something this big inside again, I’ll beat your ass.”
It’s my turn to giggle at another of our inside jokes. “Bring it on, ball boy… bring it on.”
We laugh together, and some of my tension eases. For the first time in almost a week, my heart is lighter.
Chapter 17
Shaw
“Your brother’s on his way,” Gail buzzes in.
“Which one?”
“The famous one.”
“Out of curiosity, if Mathis is the smart one, and Nick’s the famous one… which am I?”
“You’re the hotshot.”
“Figures,” I grumble, shaking my head.
