Page 107 of Dirty Little Mistake

Kaia's smile melted away. She was at my side in an instant, her perfume—the same vanilla scent she'd worn since high school—wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. " Oh my god, Cam." Her hand found mine, squeezing with the perfect pressure that only a best friend knows how to give. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry," I managed between shaky breaths, hating how my joy for her was tangled up with my own grief. "I'm happy for you. I really am." The words felt both completely true and impossibly difficult, like trying to smile while drowning.

"Camryn," she snapped. "Talk to me, please. What's going on?"

The words I'd held back for so long seemed to crystallize in the night air. "Trystan and I have been trying to get pregnant." I traced the rim of my wine glass. "Since our wedding night."

Kaia's sharp intake of breath cut through the cricket song. Her face, always so expressive, cycled through shock, understanding, and something that looked like guilt. "Oh, Cam."

My gaze drifted to our house—seven bedrooms, each one carefully planned, each one empty. My chest constricted with the familiar ache as tears threatened. "We kept it quiet." My fingers twisted in my lap. "The media vultures—" I forced a smile that felt brittle. "Well, you know how they are."

"But why didn't you tell me?" Her voice cracked on the last word.

A tear escaped, tracking down my cheek. I brushed it away with trembling fingers. "You had the new baby. And then—" The words caught. I gestured vaguely at her still-flat stomach. "I didn't want to taint your happiness with my..." I searched for the right word. Failed. Released a laugh that sounded more like breaking glass. "But I guess I managed to do that anyway."

"You didn't ruin anything," Kaia said softly, her smile gentle but careful. " Have you guys tried IVF?"

I nodded, each failed attempt flashing through my mind like a slideshow of disappointments. "Four rounds." The words came out hollow, each one representing months of hormone shots, endless doctor visits, hope that rose and crashed like waves. "All failed." I traced the rim of my empty wine glass, remembering how I'd given up wine completely during each attempt, as if denying myself small pleasures could somehow tip the cosmic scales in my favor.

"I'm so sorry, Cam. I know you've always wanted a big family. Have you considered other options?"

"We've talked about it, but we haven't made any decisions yet. We've been taking a break from trying. I'm honestly exhausted."

"I'm so sorry, Cam. I wish there was something I could do to help. I'm always just a phone call away if you need someone totalk to. I'm actually a pretty good listener." I laughed because it was true. "It's not good to keep all this bottled up inside."

Swallowing hard, I wiped away my tears. "I honestly think it's made it worse. It's like suffering in silence." But the truth was infertility wasn't something talked about. While I knew millions of women had or were going through the same thing, it wasn't something that was widely discussed. Which meant millions of people were suffering in silence.

Kaia slid her arm around my shoulder, and I leaned my head into her. "You are never alone. If I have to get on a plane and come to you, I will. No matter where in the world you are. If you need me, I will be there."

"I've really missed you," I whispered.

By the time Trystan and Jax made it back, Kaia and I were talking and laughing about everything in life.

We sat on the back patio as night slowly surrendered to morning, watching the stars fade one by one. Kaia's laugh echoed across the empty patio furniture.

I tried to memorize everything: the way Jax's hand never left Kaia's knee, how Trystan's shoulder pressed warm against mine, the comfortable silences between stories that only old friends can share.

The first rays of sunlight painted everything in soft gold, and exhaustion tugged at us. But still, I resisted, knowing that sleep meant goodbye, leaving our too-big house too quiet again. When Kaia's third yawn triggered a chain reaction among us, we finallyadmitted defeat, though our feet dragged with every step toward bed.

"Thank you," I said as I closed the bedroom door, my fingers lingering on the handle. The laughter from downstairs still echoed in my ears, making the silence up here feel heavier somehow. "I really needed this."

Trystan was already at the dresser, his movements slow with exhaustion as he pulled off his shirt. "I wish we all lived closer." He paused, shirt dangling from his fingers. His gaze met mine through the mirrors. "I know how much you want a big family."

The words hit differently tonight, landing somewhere between my ribs. I crossed the room to him, each step measured, buying time to steady my voice. "Do you want a big family?"

He turned, confusion flickering across his face. The shirt slipped from his fingers, forgotten.

"I mean—" My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it. I forced myself to meet his eyes, searching for any hint of regret or resignation. "What if we can't get pregnant? Will I be enough for you?"

"Are you kidding me?" The words came out rough, almost angry, but his touch was gentle as his hands found my hips, drawing me closer. His thumbs traced absent circles against my hipbones. "You will always be enough for me." He swallowed hard, and when he spoke again, his voice had a slight tremor. "But I'm terrified that if we don't get pregnant, I won't be enough for you."

"You are my person," I whispered, reaching up to trace the worry lines that had become permanent fixtures around his eyes. A small smile tugged at my lips as his forehead smoothed under my touch. "You will always be enough for me." The truth of it settled in my chest like warm honey. " Maybe a big family isn't in the cards for us. Maybe," my voice caught slightly, "maybe the universe just wants it to be you and me."

"You know there are other options." His voice was careful.

I pressed my palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my hand. " I know." The words came out soft, weighted with years of maybes and what-ifs. " And maybe those options will work out." I swallowed hard, tasting the bitterness of too many shattered hopes. "But maybe they won't, and I need... I need to be okay with that."

"Don't give up yet, Camryn. We agreed to start trying again next month."

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