Trying

by Heather MacKinnon

  “That’s right, me. Not Mason or any of the other assholes that couldn’t keep their eyes off you. Me. Only me.”

  “Only you,” I repeated.

  “That’s fucking right.”

  He was pumping impossibly fast while I struggled just to keep up with him. His hands gripped my hips as he slammed into me over and over. The tightness deep inside me was almost to the breaking point when he spoke once more.

  “Now, come on my fucking cock, Kenzi.”

  The wire snapped, and I screamed his name as my climax washed over me and eclipsed my senses. I was blind and deaf as I rode out my orgasm and felt Bryson slam into me once more before stilling, his hands clenching my hips tightly.

  I fell face first onto the bed, completely sated and spent. Bryson climbed from the bed, but I barely acknowledged him. I was still struggling to catch my breath when I was startled by a warm wetness between my legs.

  “Open up, Mack.”

  Bryson cleaned me tenderly before tossing the washcloth toward the hamper and pulling down the covers for the both of us. I barely dragged my sorry body under the blankets before collapsing onto my pillow.

  For the first time in months, I felt Bryson’s strong arms encircle my waist and pull me back against his damp chest. A feather-light kiss ghosted across the skin of my neck and I sighed contentedly.

  Bryson was back. My husband had awoken from his slumber, snapped out of the daze he’d been in for months, and he was finally here with me again. I fell asleep with a smile on my face for the first time in a long time, excited to be going back to the way things used to be.

  Chapter 11

  Past

  “So, I’ve been doing some research.”

  That was a gross understatement.

  I’d done a lot more than just some research. I’d been frantically googling, furiously joining Facebook groups, and feverishly reading through online message boards, trying to gather as much information as I could.

  Turns out there was endless information and countless ways to ensure a pregnancy. I read about taking an over-the-counter congestion medication to improve your cervical mucus. I learned you can grind up and drink the core of a pineapple to ensure a fertilized egg sticks to the lining of your uterus. And apparently, having sex with your socks on helps to increase circulation and your chances of conceiving.

  I was a fount of information.

  “What kind of research?” Bryson asked from his spot on the couch next to me.

  I turned to face him. “Well, obviously following the apps aren’t working. It’s been months, and they’ve been wrong every time about when I’m ovulating.”

  “Okay, so what are we gonna’ do instead?”

  I smiled softly. I loved that he used the word we. It felt like I wasn’t alone in this. Like I had someone in my corner.

  “I’m going to use OPK’s this round.”

  “What the hell is an ‘OPK’?”

  I raised a brow. “What’s with your aversion to acronyms?”

  He turned to face me with a raised brow of his own. “What’s with your sudden love of them?”

  I laughed. “Babe, the world of TTC is full of acronyms. This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg. I actually had to look up a cheat sheet, so I knew what half of the message boards were even talking about.”

  “What the fuck is a TTC?”

  I laughed louder. “An OPK is an ovulation prediction kit. It’s a test I can take, like a pregnancy test, only this one will help me pinpoint when I’m ovulating.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay, and this TCT shit? What’s that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “TTC stands for trying to conceive.”

  He shook his head. “Then why the hell can’t you just say, ‘trying to conceive’?”

  “Because that takes too long.” He opened his mouth to interrupt again, so I raised my voice and continued speaking. “Anyway! I’m going to use OPK’s this month, so we know exactly when I’m fertile and we can time our BD properly.”

  He growled. “Now, what the hell is a BD.”

  “It stands for baby dance. It means sex.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “Then why can’t you just say sex?!”

  I shrugged and stood, patting him on the shoulder as I walked past. “No clue, babe. But, if we want to get serious about this baby-making business, we need to get down with the lingo too.”

  I left him grumbling in the living room and went to the office to hop on the computer and order some OPK’s from Amazon. It felt like I was making some headway and actually taking control of this process. Maybe the war would be over quicker than I thought.

  “Bryson! Can you come in here and look at this!” I called from the bathroom.

  A minute later, he strolled through the doorway. “What’s up, babe?”

  I held up the thin test strip. “Does it look like both of those lines are the same color?”

  “Uh, yeah. They’re both pink.”

  I shook my head in frustration. “No. Are they the same shade of pink? Is the top one as dark as the bottom one?”

  Bryson’s brows dipped in concentration as he took the tiny test strip from my hand. It was only about two inches long and no more than a quarter inch wide. On it were two pink lines and if they were the exact same color that meant I was ovulating. I thought they looked pretty similar, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust my eyes anymore.

  The information I’d found online had suggested I start taking these tests around ten days after the first day of my period, that I should get a positive within a few days. It had been two weeks, and I still hadn’t had a single test that looked even remotely positive. Until today.

  Bryson held the test close to his face before pulling it back and then bringing it forward again. He repeated this a few times before I sighed in frustration.

  “Well?” I prompted. “What do you think?”

  “Which one is the top and which is the bottom?”

  I sighed in irritation and took the test from him, holding it right side up. “This is the top, and that’s the bottom,” I said, pointing. “Which is darker?”

  He shrugged. “I’d say the top.”

  I growled and spun around to toss the test into the trash. I went to stomp past Bryson when he stopped me by wrapping an arm around my waist.

  “Is that not what you wanted to hear?” he asked softly.

  “No! It wasn’t!” I yelled. “I’ve been taking these damn tests for weeks and none of them have been positive yet. I should have ovulated a long time ago and I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  Bryson pulled my stiff form to his chest. “Hey, it’ll happen. You just need to not stress it.”

  I pushed at him until he released me. “That’s easy for you to say! It’s not you who has to take these tests every goddamn day and have them keep coming up negative! It’s me! So, don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t feel, cause’ you have no idea.”

  I stomped past him and heard Bryson sigh behind me.

  I knew it wasn’t fair that I was taking this out on him, but I couldn’t help it. Getting pregnant was completely consuming me. It was just about all I thought of these days. I spent hours every night researching and none of it was helping me now. None of it could make me ovulate.

  The next day, I went out and bought an expensive box of digital OPK’s. They cost like five times what the little test strips did, but they were more straightforward. Apparently, all I needed to look out for was a little smiley face. When I saw it that meant I was about to ovulate and could get a good start on this month’s fertile window.

  It was another week before a smiley face popped up in the test window.

  “Bryson!” I yelled.

  I ran from the bathroom into the living room clutching the test in my hand. He looked up when I entered and warily eyed the test in my hand.

  “What’s up, Mack?”

  I smiled. “I got a positive OPK!”

  He smiled back tentatively. “Oka
y, what does that mean?”

  I sighed dramatically. “Time to BD!”

  He frowned. “What’s BD again?”

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “Sex, Bryson. Time to have sex.” He rose from the couch with a lascivious grin on his face. “And tomorrow I’m printing you out a sheet of all the acronyms. I think you should know them too.”

  Bryson stalked forward as I slowly retreated from the room and up the stairs. “I don’t give a shit about acronyms.”

  My laugh was breathy. “But I want you to care about them.”

  He paused for a moment and shrugged before continuing to advance on me. “Then print it out and I’ll study the shit out of them.” He surged forward once we’d reached the top of the stairs and pinned me against the wall. “I’ll do anything it takes to keep you happy, Mack.”

  Tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I held them in. This wasn’t the time for crying. This was an exciting time. I was ovulating, finally fertile, and I was about to baby dance with my husband. Things couldn’t look better.

  I woke up early on the tenth day after I’d ovulated with a big smile on my face and a full bladder. Rolling over, I nudged Bryson awake. “It’s test day.”

  “Hmm?” he asked groggily.

  I nudged him again. “Test day. I get to take a pregnancy test.”

  “That’s good, baby.”

  I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed, practically running for the bathroom. Once there, I snagged a disposable cup, and a test and set them up next to the toilet. I sat down, positioned the cup and did my business.

  I pulled the cup away and placed it on the edge of the tub, but something caught my eye. Picking the cup back up, I noticed streaks of red and my stomach dropped.

  “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no, no, no,” I chanted while I ripped off a strand of toilet paper and frantically wiped myself.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and held the toilet paper up, hoping there wouldn’t be blood on it. Hoping it was some fluke and my period wasn’t here already. It had only been ten days since I ovulated! My period shouldn’t be here until after the fourteenth day! And I had really thought this was going to be our month.

  We did everything right. I’d gotten the positive ovulation test, we had sex that night and for the next three after that, and I’d laid still on the bed for at least thirty minutes after every time. What more could I possibly do?

  But, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I didn’t have my period. Maybe the blood in the cup was just some light spotting indicating an early pregnancy. As long as I don’t open my eyes that option was still on the table.

  But, I couldn’t just sit in the bathroom with a wad of toilet paper in my hands and my eyes closed.

  I took another deep breath and opened my eyes.

  Red.

  The toilet paper was completely red.

  Not only was my period definitely here, it was in full force.

  My shoulders fell, and the ramifications sped through my mind as I dumped the unnecessary cup of urine and finished my business on the toilet.

  I wasn’t pregnant.

  I’d failed.

  And now I had countless weeks to wait before I could try again.

  I washed my hands and retreated to the bedroom, slipping under the covers and pulling them up to my chin. A few minutes later, Bryson rolled over and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  “So, what’s the verdict? Are we parents?”

  His simple question was all it took for the dam to break.

  A river of tears ran down my face as large sobs wracked my body.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “What’s wrong, baby? What happened? Are you all right?”

  “I failed again,” I wailed between sobs.

  “Failed? Baby, what are you talking about?”

  The tears fell unchecked, pooling in my messy hair and wetting the pillow beneath me. “It’s over. I got my period.”

  He sighed. “Oh.”

  For some reason, that word, that single syllable, those two letters sent me over the edge.

  “Oh? All you have to say is ‘oh’? What does that ‘oh’ mean, anyway? ‘Oh, you failed again’? ‘Oh, your body fucked us over’? ‘Oh, you must be broken’?”

  Bryson sat up and stared at me incredulously. “What? No! I didn’t say any of that! Don’t put those words in my mouth, cause’ they’re not mine.”

  I ripped the covers off my body and surged to my feet. “They might as well be! We both know that’s what you’re thinking. That there’s something wrong with me. That I’m the problem here. That I’m doing something wrong and that’s why we keep getting negative after negative.” I laughed humorlessly. “I didn’t even get to take a test this month. I was already bleeding so there was no point in testing.”

  “I’m sorry, Mack. I really am, but you can’t keep doing this. You can’t put these words in my mouth and yell at me for them. I haven’t thought anything like that, and I haven’t said anything like that.”

  “Well, you might as well be.”

  A loud gust of angry air left his mouth as he flopped back on the bed. “You’re impossible.”

  “Whatever. I’m going to go take a shower.”

  My anger lasted all the way until I was under the hot water, where it melted away, leaving more tears behind. I cried while I washed my hair, I cried while I soaped my skin, I cried while I shaved my underarms and legs, and I cried as I washed my face. The tears finally dried up as I turned off the showerhead and exited the tub.

  I jumped a little when I found Bryson in the steamy room, leaning against the counter with a haunted look on his face.

  “What are you doing in here?” I asked as I pulled a towel off the rack and began drying off.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think you should be alone.”

  That made me pause. “You’ve been in here the whole time?”

  That haunted look was back on his face and he nodded solemnly.

  We were quiet for the next few minutes while I dried off and rubbed lotion on my skin. Finally, he sighed and cleared his throat before pushing off the counter.

  “I was thinking about what you said.” I froze at his words, but he continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “You keep saying you’re the problem, but we don’t know that–”

  “We do, Bryson. I’m the one with the fucked-up cycles, clearly it’s my fault.”

  He held his hands up and took a step closer, like he was approaching a wild animal. “I’m not saying your cycles aren’t a problem, but we don’t know if there’s something wrong with me too. Why don’t I go get checked out, so we can make sure we know what we’re dealing with?”

  “You want to get your sperm checked?”

  His smile was small and tentative. “Why not?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

  He took another few steps until he was close enough to pull me into his arms. “Exactly. Can’t hurt. And then we’ll have one less thing to worry about.”

  I nodded as the tears started leaking from my eyes again. “I really thought this was our month, Brys.”

  He pulled me closer and sighed, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I know, babe. We both did.”

  His words sliced through me like razor blades. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He pushed me and met my eyes. “Why are you sorry?”

  “I failed you.”

  He shook his head and pulled me close again. “You didn’t fail me, Mack. You could never fail me. It just wasn’t our month. But, now that you’re using these KOP’s it’s only a matter of time.”

  My laugh was watery. “It’s OPK, Brys.”

  His chest rumbled with laughter. “I guess I need to study harder.”

  I nodded and laughed again, letting myself pull strength and calm from my husband. He pulled my left hand to his mouth, kissing my wedding rings and squeezing three times.

  It h
ad only been a couple months and Bryson was right, now that we were able to accurately predict when I ovulated, it shouldn’t be too much longer. I just needed to be patient and keep doing what I was doing, and all the pieces would fall into place the way they were meant to. We’d be parents in no time.

  Chapter 12

  Present

  I woke up the morning after the office holiday party with a smile on my face and a tenderness between my legs. Last night with Bryson had been amazing. He’d been passionate and attentive, things I’d been missing in the past few months.

  I stretched my arms over my head and rolled over, expecting to find a sleeping Bryson, but was met with an empty and cold half of the bed. With a frown, I sat up and craned my neck toward the bathroom, but it too was empty.

  I picked up my phone to see it was still early, and that I didn’t have any missed calls or texts from Bryson.

  Then I realized he must be downstairs cooking us breakfast. That was something he used to do all the time that stopped when things started to break down between us.

  I slid off the bed and pocketed my phone before making my way downstairs. The house was completely silent, but I held out hope he was quietly reading his paper, until I stepped into the empty kitchen.

  “Bryson?” I called out for good measure, even though I knew no one was home.

  My frown deepened. Where the hell could he be? It was Sunday. He should be home. With me. Especially after last night. I thought for sure we’d spend a great day together after the night we’d had.

  I walked over to the counter to make a pot of coffee when I found it already on and a dirty mug with a piece of paper tucked beneath it.

  Mackenzie,

  I had to go into the office for a few hours. I don’t know what time I’ll be home. Talk later.

  I flipped the note over, thinking there must be more to it. He couldn’t possibly have left me two-and-a-half sentences and thought that was sufficient.

  I crumpled the paper in my hands and threw it into the sink. With shaky hands, I pulled down a clean mug for myself and lifted the carafe, only to find a small bit of burnt coffee in the bottom. I shoved it back onto the warming plate and gripped the counter with both hands. My head hung low between my shoulders as I took deep breaths in and out, trying to regain my composure.