“It might not be your fault, Lo. Have you considered that maybe the issue is with Saint? Maybe you should both get tested.”
My chest heaves painfully. “I have considered that, but it would only make things worse. I’d rather I was the failure than Saint thinking it’s him. If he can’t father children, it will devastate him, Jazz.” I swallow over the anguished lump in my throat. “If it was anyone but Saint, they’d deal with it. But Saint won’t handle it well. I know he won’t. He…”
I bury my head in my hands, full-on sobbing, while Jazz hugs me, rubbing a soothing hand up and down my back. “It’s going to be okay, Lo.”
“I wish I could believe that,” I rasp, looking at her through blurry eyes.
“You have had three healthy babies. You’re still young, and you have plenty of time to get pregnant. Even if there are any issues, there are so many options nowadays. You will have another baby. I feel it in my bones.” She bites on the corner of her lip. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Always.” I nod, sniffling, accepting the tissue she hands to me.
“I think all this stress is stopping you from getting pregnant. I’m no doctor, but this can’t be helping.”
“I think you’re right, but how do I handle this? I’m afraid to say any of this to Saint because I don’t want to hurt his feelings. And I can’t talk to the others because it’s not fair to put them in the middle of this.”
She wipes moisture off my cheeks. “I’m surprised you haven’t spoken to them because communication has always been key in your relationship. I’ve envied you that. You can ask Ken. He’ll tell you I’ve told him our marriage needs to be built on open communication like yours.”
“This is different.”
“It is.” She returns to her seat, handing me another tissue. “This is when communication is even more important. You love Saint and he loves you. He wants a baby with you, and you want a baby with him. You both want the same thing. It’s the way you are going about it that’s all wrong, and if you don’t speak up now, irreparable damage may be caused to your relationship.”
She is not telling me anything I don’t know, but hearing Jazz say it gives me the confidence boost I’ve been lacking.
I’m Harlow fucking Westbrook, and I don’t run from anything.
Especially not from difficult conversations with one of the men I love.
And I never lie down and accept defeat.
Determination zips through my veins, and I blot the last of my tears from my eyes, the first hint of a genuine smile appearing on my lips. “You’re right, and I needed you to tell me that.” I get up, and Jazz stands. I pull her into a hug. “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be okay, Harlow. I just know it is. Get your relationship with Saint back on track. Remove the pressure, and everything will happen naturally, I bet.”
“Can you handle things if I take off?” There is no time like the present. None of the guys are working today, and I know they will either be in the pool or at our private beach with the kids, so it’s the perfect time to pull Saint aside for a heart to heart.
“Go. I’ve got things here.”
I hug her again. “I owe you.”
“Any time. You did the same for me when Ken and I hit that rough patch.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“Truth, sister.” She releases me with a smile. “Call me later, and let me know how it goes.”
“I will,” I say, grabbing my purse as I exit my office, feeling less burdened than I did when I arrived at work today.
Chapter 5
Saint
“WHERE ARE THE kids?” I ask when I return from the gym, finding the house eerily quiet. Lo is working, but the guys aren’t, so the place should be messy and noisy, and it’s not. I step out onto the patio where Galen, Theo, and Caz are currently lounging by the pool.
“Freya took them out for ice cream.” Freya is one of the neighbor’s kids. She’s sixteen and she recently began babysitting for us, but we generally only hire her at night, when we’re taking Lo out to dinner, so this is unusual.
I dump my gym bag on the ground, running a hand through my freshly-washed hair. “Is there a reason we needed to offload the rugrats?”
The guys trade looks, and I’m instantly on guard.
“Yeah.” Galen stands. “We need to talk to you, and we didn’t want the kids around.”
My hackles are instantly raised, and I fold my arms across my chest, leveling them with a dark look. “You know how I feel about being ambushed,” I snarl.
“And you know how we feel about Lo,” Theo coolly replies, rising to stand beside Galen.
“Let’s talk inside,” Caz says. “We don’t want anything carrying on the wind.”
I follow them inside, my heart heavy with the knowledge of what’s about to be said.
For the first time in a long time, I find myself in isolation, and it’s not a good place to be.
Theo and Caz drop down on one of the couches in the living room while Galen flops onto the other one. I stand, crossing my arms over my chest again, bracing myself for it.
“Sit down, man,” Galen says.
“I’d rather stand.”
“We just want to talk this out like civilized adults,” Theo says. “There’s no need to raise proverbial fists. We’re family, and we need to discuss this. Just sit down and relax.”
“That’s not how we roll,” Caz adds. “It seems we’ve all forgotten that.”
Reluctantly, I sit down, still eyeing them warily. “I know what you’re going to say, and you shouldn’t get involved. This is between Lo and me.”
Galen sits up straighter. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. This affects all of us, and it’s gone on too long. You’re being a dick, and if you don’t stop hurting her, we have a big problem.”
I clench my fists into balls. “I know things are a little strained, but you can’t accuse me of hurting her. I would never hurt her. You all know that.”
“We know it’s not intentional,” Theo says, always the peacemaker. “But you are hurting her, Saint. We all see it.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “You don’t understand because it wasn’t like this for any of you. She got pregnant like that all the previous times”—I click my fingers—“and we weren’t concerned with who the father was, because it didn’t matter back then.”
“Does it really matter now?” Caz asks, softening his tone as he leans his elbows on his knees. “The kids adore you, man. Who cares which blood flows through their veins? They are ours in all the ways that count. We are all Westbrooks.”
“It matters to me. I fucking care.” I thump a hand over my heart, swallowing thickly over the painful lump in my throat. “I love Bishop, Luna, and Rora with my whole heart, but I want my own kid with Lo. Are you telling me you wouldn’t feel the same way in my shoes?”
The silence is deafening.
“Exactly.” I slump back on the couch.
“We don’t know how we would feel,” Galen says, his face radiating compassion. “Perhaps we would feel how you feel, but I’d like to think you’d intervene if you saw me obsessing and hurting our wife in the process.”
“What the actual fuck?” I roar, throwing my hands in the air. I know I might have gone a tad bit overboard, but throwing that shit at me isn’t cool. “I’m not obsessing. I’ve been educating myself so I’m well informed. So we have every chance to conceive. I don’t want Lo to feel like it’s all on her, so I’m sharing the responsibility.”
“You’re taking it too far,” Caz says. “You’re losing sight of what’s important in your quest to knock her up.”
I jump to my feet. “Who fucking died and made you the expert?” I jab my finger in Caz’s direction. “You don’t get to dictate to me about this.”
“I fucking do when you’re stressing our wife out and upsetting her,” he replies, climbing to his feet and glaring at me.
“Everyone, calm down.” Theo s
tands, his gaze bouncing between us. “We’ll get nowhere if this continues.”
“If Lo’s so upset, why hasn’t she come to me?”
“Because I was afraid of hurting you,” she says from behind me. I whip around, surprised to see her leaning against the doorframe.
“Why are you home early?” Theo asks, his brow furrowing as his gaze rakes over her. “And why do you look like you were crying?”
“Because I was,” she says, offering us a weak smile.
“Because of me?” I ask, her words registering in my stubborn brain. It seems the guys were right. I’ve hurt her unknowingly, and I hate myself for it.
Lo is my everything. I never want her to feel like she’s not.
“Because of the situation,” she quietly replies, pushing off the door. “I talked with Jazz.” She holds up one hand when I open my mouth to speak. “And I’m not apologizing for that. I should have talked to her months ago, but I didn’t want to disrespect your wishes.”
“I don’t want others knowing our business,” I say, working hard to keep the anger from my voice. It’s bad enough I can’t knock her up. The last thing I need is everyone in our circle finding out.
“She’s my best friend, Saint. She won’t gossip.” She steps closer, and I note the redness surrounding her sad eyes.
“Come here, baby.” Theo opens his arms, and she readily falls into them. He squeezes his eyes shut as he holds her to him, pressing kisses into her hair.
A sob rips from her mouth, and it kills me. It fucking kills me. How did I not see this?
“Lo,” I croak, taking a step toward her, but Theo shakes his head, cautioning me to stay back.
“I’m so sorry, Saint,” she cries, her words muffled against Theo’s chest. “I hate that I’m letting you down, but I can’t keep doing this. It’s destroying me.”
Everything locks up inside me. “You don’t want a baby with me?” I hear how cold my voice is, but her words are tearing strips off my heart.
“No!” She lifts her head, pinning me with tearstained sad eyes.
My breath stutters in my chest, and I rub at the piercing ache ripping across my ribcage.
“I mean yes,” she quickly replies, shucking out of Theo’s arms. “This isn’t coming out right.” She strides to me, cupping my face in her hands. “Of course, I want a baby with you. I love you, Saint. Nothing would make me happier.”
“But?” ’Cause I sense one coming.
She lowers her hands to her sides. “But it’s not going to happen unless we make changes.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and she bites on the corner of her mouth.
I have a sudden urge to kiss her, to kiss all her worries away, but I don’t think she’d appreciate it right now.
“Can we sit down?” She gestures toward the couch.
“Do you want us to go, Lo?” Theo asks.
She shakes her head. “No, please stay. We need to resolve this as a family.” She looks around, and her brows knit together. “Where are the kids?”
“With Freya. They won’t be home for a while,” Galen says. “We had planned on talking with Saint,” he tacks on the end when he sees the confusion on her face.
“You had?” she asks, her gaze jumping between us.
“We knew you were upset last night, and we’ve noticed things seem tense between you two,” Theo explains.
“We have tried to respect your privacy,” Galen adds. “But we realize now we made a mistake. We shouldn’t have let it get this far. You’re both upset, and this impacts all of us.”
“We’ve always done things together,” Caz says. “And we’ll get through this together.”
I don’t see how, not when I’m the one who needs, wants, craves, to put a baby in her belly, but I keep those thoughts to myself.
We all sit, and I reach out, taking Lo’s hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. “Have I been hurting you?”
Her eyes well up again, and I hate myself in this moment. “Yes,” she softly admits. “I know you don’t mean to. I know you’re just focused on getting me pregnant, but it’s almost like I don’t matter anymore. Like I’m just a baby-making machine, a vessel for you to impregnate, and I can’t even get that right.” Tears spill down her cheeks, and I can hardly talk over the messy ball clogging my throat.
“No, Lo. That’s not who you are to me.” I brush tears off her cheeks. “I want a baby so badly with you. I want a child who is a part of me and a part of you. I want to see if he or she looks more like you or me and whether he or she resembles Bishop or either of our girls. But I don’t want that at the expense of our relationship, because no one or nothing means more to me than you. I’m sorry if my actions have made you doubt that. Doubt me.” I peer into her eyes. “I love you so much. You’re my queen.”
She smiles softly as fresh tears flow from her eyes. “I want to see what our child would look like too. Trust me when I say I want to have our baby as badly as you do. But everything is messed up.”
Her chest heaves, and she pauses for a second. Her lower lip trembles. “When was the last time you kissed me, Saint? Or the last time you held me in your arms for no reason other than wanting to feel me close? When was the last time you spontaneously made love to me because you wanted to, not because we were on a schedule?”
I pin her with an incredulous look, because she’s being ridiculous. I know I might have been a bit obsessive about fucking her when she was ovulating, but it’s not like it’s been a chore or that I’ve stopped being affectionate with her. “I kissed you last night when we were in bed,” I tell her.
She shakes her head, sadness washing over her face. “No, you didn’t, Saint. You stripped me and fucked me like I was some nameless, faceless vagina, telling me how perfect the timing was and this was going to be the month. Then you came, and when I didn’t want you to touch me, you made me sit on pillows and wait for fifteen minutes so your sperm could reach my egg.”
My mind revisits last night, and I replay it, scene for scene, dismayed to discover she’s right. How have I been so blind? I go further back, trying to remember the last time I kissed her, and I can’t recall it. I feel sick. She’s right. The guys are right, and I just didn’t see it.
I won’t defend myself by mentioning how depressed I’ve been month after month when her period arrived. Or how stressed I’ve been at the thought I might not be able to father children, because making excuses just won’t cut it. There is no acceptable justification for shutting her out. For treating her so coldly. I’m disgusted with myself.
Have I been so obsessed that I’ve forgotten everything she means to me? All that is important?
Theo looks at me with genuine concern, Caz looks shellshocked, and Galen looks like he’s two seconds away from slicing my head off my shoulders. I wouldn’t blame any of them for ripping me a new one. I’ve been so single-minded, so focused on the goal, I’ve lost sight of what matters.
I’ve lost sight of my wife, and I haven’t treated her right. I haven’t loved her and cherished her like I vowed to, and I’m full of self-hatred. I’m disgusted I was so wrapped up in my head, in what I wanted and needed, I failed to see how I was hurting her.
Shame smacks into me on all sides, and I hang my head. A tight pain rips across my chest, and intense pressure settles on my shoulders. I have let everyone down, and it’s time to man up and accept responsibility. Lifting my chin, I stare at my beautiful, brave wife. “You’re right, Lo. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
Her arm slides around my back. “I just want my husband back,” she says over a sob. “I just want you to love me and for things to go back to the way they were before.”
That shakes me out of my melancholy. I have never stopped loving her.
That’s a virtual impossibility.
“Baby.” I hold her face in my hands. “You have always been my queen, and that hasn’t changed. I might have lost my way, but I have never stopped loving yo
u. You’re my world. I’m so sorry for how I’ve been treating you. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” Tears prick my eyes. “I just want a baby with you.” My eyes lower to her flat stomach. “I dream of seeing your belly swollen with my kid. Besides you, it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted this much.”
“I know, honey.” She presses her forehead to mine, and I drop my hands, taking hers. “And I want that too, but I don’t think we’re going to get pregnant if we continue with the regimented routine because it’s stressing me out and making me unhappy.”
“That stops now. I promise.” Her relieved smile loosens some of the knots in my shoulders. “What do you suggest?” I ask, peering into her gorgeous green eyes.
“Let’s drop all the planning and just go back to the way we were. Fucking when we want, not when we have to. Let it happen naturally. We don’t have to rush this.”
“What if it doesn’t happen?” I ask because we might as well get everything out on the table. I’ve been afraid to voice this fear, as if saying the words out loud might make it real. “What if there’s something wrong…with me?”
She flings her arms around me, squeezing me tight. My arms band around her warm body, and a sense of contentment—the kind that’s been missing these past few months—seeps deep into my bones. I hold her tight, closing my eyes, savoring the feel of her pressed against me.
“I bet there is nothing wrong other than us trying to force it,” she says after a while, easing back so she’s looking at me. “But if it doesn’t happen by next year, we can talk to a specialist.”
“Okay.” I nod.
Her eyes fill with tears again, and it’s unlike Lo to be so emotional. Maybe she’s… I stop my train of thought because I’ve got to let it go. Nothing is more important to me than my wife. Not even a baby even though it’s everything my heart desires. But making things right with Lo takes precedence. I hate that I’ve hurt her. That I’ve left her feeling like I don’t love her anymore. Rectifying that is all that’s important now.
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