Page 60 of Flirty Thirty

She gives me the glare from hell, and I clap a hand over my mouth like I’ve uttered an f-bomb in front of my mother. One of the rules for our getaway was no questioning what’s right or wrong for her pregnancy. I’ve failed three times now.

“Sorry, sorry,” I sputter, avoiding her stare by perusing all the dinner choices. There are pregnancy massages, I’m sure, and I wonder if a masseuse could rub out a broken heart. There are a pair of them right here.

After I order us some dinner, I kick off my shoes and slide back on the pillows, building myself a comfort nest.

“You ready to talk?” I ask, and Holland doesn’t move. For a second I wonder if she’s fallen asleep, but then she shifts, her black curtain of hair covering most of her face as she attempts to look at me.

“I’m afraid if I talk, I’ll cry.” She blows her hair from her face. “And I’m really tired of crying.”

Amen to that. Every time I think of Cooper I feel like I should drive to Costco and stock up on Kleenex.

“Are you and Warren going to be okay?” I bite at my lip, shifting till I’m under the covers. “Can I ask that?”

“Maybe,” she says, rolling to her back. “Probably. We’re just… well…Ijust need some time. Time will fix it.”

I can tell she’s still in no mood to talk about it, so I blow out a sigh and say, “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“You’re doing it.”

She builds her own fort of pillows and blankets and sinks into it. “Areyouready to talk?”

I snort. “I don’t want to cry either.”

“Maybe after we eat we can get through both our drama without the crying headaches.”

As terrified as I am to tell her about my visit with the doctor, I actually think it’s about time that I do.

“Holland?” I start, deciding I better tell her now before I lose my nerve. She perks her head up, her brows pulled in at whatever expression I’m donning. “I didn’t break up with Cooper just because I don’t want a family.”

The sheets rustle as she pushes herself upright. “Then why?”

Goodness, I have to keep the tears in or they won’t stop. “I can’t have kids.”

Her small little mouth pops open, her brows up in concern as her fingers twitch against her baby belly. I swallow hard, praying that I don’t let any jealousy seep into my voice as I tell her about the false positive, about the doctor visit, about the call I got a few days later confirming what they already knew.

“It’s okay, though,” I say when she can’t findanythingto say. “If God picked a specific number of women who would never be mothers, then it’s good. I mean, it should be me. I never… I didn’t want…”

But I can’t finish that sentence. I can’t speak it out loud anymore because it’s not true. Isawthem; for a brief moment, I saw kids in my future before that image was ripped away from me.

I bury my face into my palms, and I hear Holland move, feel the bed dip next to me and her arms wrap around my shoulders. Her baby bump presses into my side, and I feel horrible over the thoughts I had before. How I would look at her stomach and think she’d lost her mind, or she had no idea what she was getting into, or how she was going to regret that decision after the first dirty diaper. Now, all I want in the world is to be able to experience something as miraculous as carrying a child.

She holds me for a long time, her comfort only expressed through the hug and not words. I’m glad, because nothing can be said in a time like this to make it better. But her hug is doing wonders.

“What did Cooper say?” she asks, pulling back and fixing the hair she messed up while her arms were around me. “Did he… I mean, did he understand?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t.”

“Maya…”

“I know. I probably should have, but he… Holland, he wants kids so badly. And he’d be such a good dad, I couldn’t take that away from him. He’d stay with me out of obligation, and we’d grow old just me and him and I’d have to live with never being able to give him the life he really wanted.” I shake my head, a rogue tear falling from the tip of my nose. “No, I can’t do that.”

“He loves you,” she says, and I bring my eyes up to meet hers. “I think he’d be willing to give up kids for you, especially if you can’t—”

“That’s a big thing to give up. I… I am not worth it. I would never ask him to…” I drift off, tired already of the conversation, wishing I was as strong as she was with shoving away her problems. Cooper walked away; he left me because I wasn’t willing to budge, and neither was he.

A knock comes at the door, and we both turn to the voice saying, “Room service.” Holland pats my leg and gets up to let him in while I quickly wipe my eyes and shove everything away. Time will fix this, just like Holland said, even though so far, it’s done a terrible job of it.

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