Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 59671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to.
We both sit on our rock in silence, together but alone, lost in our own world of regret.
Mourning another failed attempt but grateful that we have each other.
This sucks.
Elliot
Jameson puts his head around the door, “You want to grab some lunch.”
I exhale heavily, “I can’t, I’ve got to do something.”
“Such as?” He walks in, his interest piqued.
I open the top draw to my desk and hold up the specimen jar, “I’ve got to blow into this fucking cup.”
Jameson chuckles, “Sounds romantic.”
“Trust me, it’s not.” I roll my eyes, “I’m sick of this shit.”
“Do you want me to bring up some cocky boys for you on your computer?”
I fake a smile, “Gay porn is not going to get the job done.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“You can’t.” I hear Kate say from the door, “But I can.”
“Hi Jay,” Kate smiles as she walks in, she’s wearing a trench coat and I have a sneaking suspicion that she has nothing on underneath it.
I feel my cock twinge in appreciation.
“Ahh, the calvary has arrived to help me with my errands.” I smile as I pull her down onto my lap.
Jameson smirks, “I’ll leave you to it.”
Kate
I sit on the step.
The sun is rising and Elliot is dressed in his killer suit, coffee in hand walking around the lake.
His gang of ducks waddling behind him.
Every now and then he will stop still as he looks around and he says something to them and I smile as I watch on.
What does he say?
It’s always magical here but mornings are something special, it really does become enchanted.
We are so blessed.
Eighteen months later.
The grand ballroom is alive with laughter, we are at a charity ball.
Elliot is wearing a black dinner suit and I am pimped up to the nines, my hair is out and full and I’m in a black sexy dress with sky high stilettos. I used to loathe these things but now not so much, it gives us a chance to get dressed up and go on a fancy date.
Let’s face it, anytime Elliot Miles puts on a dinner suit it’s a gift to the world.
He runs his hand up my thigh under the table and gives me the look.
He’s so fucking gorgeous I can’t stand it.
We’ve had dinner, he’s spun me around the dance floor and dessert is just about to be served.
“So when are you two going to have a baby?” the woman across the table asks.
My stomach drops.
And there it is, the question on everyone’s lips.
“Not yet,” Elliot replies curtly.
We hardly know her. Why does she think it’s okay to ask such a personal question?
I fake a smile as my heart sinks. I want to crawl under the table and hide from the world.
Twelve failed rounds of IVF are bad enough to deal with.
But getting asked the question everywhere we go is a hard pill to swallow. Even the paps are weighing in on it now.
When are you having a baby?
A simple, harmless question with no malice intended. The result…a cut so deep that it goes straight to the bone.
If they only knew what was going on behind closed doors.
I can’t blame them, it’s a question that comes up and perhaps I’ve even asked someone the same insensitive thing before. It’s as if it’s a god-given right that everyone gets to choose…and hell, I only wish that were true.
Reality is setting in, this actually may not happen for us, and Elliot’s right, I need to prepare myself for it.
My heart is bleeding for every mom that didn’t get her baby.
For her dream of a family that didn’t come true.
For the dads that never got to go to the mini league game, the Santa Claus they didn’t get to play.
My mind goes round in circles, from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows.
Everywhere I go I see them; pregnant woman are everywhere. With their big, beautiful tummies on display. Glowing and gorgeous.
Femininity personified.
And then there’s me, a walking nutjob with my hormones all over the place, laughing one minute and crying the next. Hearing a simple song can set me off on a crying tangent for three hours and don’t get me started on my raging temper.
I’m up, I’m down, I’m a one-woman fucking circus.
I’ve never felt like such a failure.
Getting a negative result is bad…but watching Elliot’s heart sink is…. worse.
I can feel his disappointment, sense all the words he doesn’t say.
It kills me.
It’s like we are on this roller coaster to hell, every month we start off optimistic.
Every month ends in disappointment, the cut a little bit deeper, a little bit wider.
An infection that is festering just under the surface.
Elliot says he can’t do this anymore, he’s had enough.
But I have to be strong, I can’t give up, my faith is strong, our happy ending is coming.