Page 118 of Outspoken

“Well,” he says, “I realized my wish earlier. I wish for you to find everything you want in life. I wish for you to find happiness because you deserve it. I’ll give all of my wishes for that.”

I sniff. “Can I change mine since you’re so selfless? I’m giving my wish to you. Use it to get the family you’ve always wanted.” I sniff again and clear my throat.Now that I opened the floodgates, I’ll probably be weepy for a month.“Guess I’m wishing for your happiness, too.”

His body becomes rigid. “You know I want kids?”

I nod.

He squeezes me closer, and even though my lungs are constricted, I let him. I want to be held as tight against him as possible, as if somehow that’ll keep us from parting.

“I want those kids with you,” he says. His words linger in the quiet air, stretching out around us until they’re lost in the serenade of crickets.

I struggle for a long time to get my words out. Once they’re out, there’s no way to avoid our destruction. Could I just keep them in forever?

No, I need to face this.

After wiping my cheeks, I finally say, “We want different things.”

His grip on me weakens. “But are you sure? I know having kids is scary. I even think about it and get nervous sometimes. It’s a lot of responsibility and pressure, but it’s worth it. Family is always worth it. You could feel differently in the future. Maybe in five years you’ll want kids.”

My body tenses, straining against his arms. “You don’t think I haven’t really thought about this? I’ve thought about it my entire adult life. Society puts so much pressure on women to have kids, and then people try to shame women who simply don’t want them. I think it’s wonderful that you want your own children, and you’ll make such an amazing father, but I’ve never had those life goals.” I try to pull free of his embrace, but his arms are locked around me.

“What if—”

“No,” I say firmly, despite my shaky voice. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to suggest you can give up kids, that you don’t need them. But I’dneverlet you sacrifice that for me. You want your own family. You have since you were young. Don’t throw that away for me. Or anyone. We both deserve to have what we want in life. It’s just…” A sob makes me stop talking.It’s just painful that we want such different things.

His palms press gently into my stomach as if he can will a baby inside me. “Why can’t we try? Just give us a chance and we’ll see how we both feel about a family in the future.”

I shake my head. “You’re trying to force something to happen again. Think about the consequences. You want us to get more invested in each other so one of us eventually has to make a sacrifice? That’s how couples fail. They don’t listen to what the other wants or needs and they try to change each other. I’ll only grow resentful. Or you will. This can’t work. Love isn’t enough. A sustainable relationship requires more, starting with similar life goals.”

I’m ready to keep talking—ramble like I usually do—but he leans down to whisper in my ear, stalling my breath.

“I love you, Amber.”

I stare at the blurry city lights as they take on a new shimmer—a force so bright it feels like it can conquer any darkness, even the black expanse of ocean.

Those words on Miguel’s lips are different from how he said them before. They’re real this time.Real love.

“You believe me this time?” he asks. “Seeing you with my mom and the way you were caring for me tonight, it just came over me. I understand everything you’ve been trying to tell me. I pushed too much and I was too focused on starting a relationship above everything else. I wanted to be in love and feel love so badly I was saying empty things. I’m sorry I did that. But I actually feel it now. It’s something I’m feeling for the first time in my life.” His breath warms my ear. “I love you.”

My body trembles, but Miguel is right there holding me secure. His words cause the best sensation I’ve ever know—a mixture of butterflies, electricity, joy, a lightness in my body that might make me float away.

A bittersweet sadness.

I turn to face him.

His eyes are pleading. “Can you hear it? I love you.”

I nod, closing my eyes because I don’t think I can stare into his intense, loving face as I speak. I’m completely raw. “I love you, too.”

With a sharp inhale, he cradles my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “Say that again.”

I hold his questioning gaze, confronting the intensity and the feelings for the first time. “I love you.”

His lips part, freezing on a response.

“I love you,” I say again, tears blurring my vision.

He brings our foreheads together. “No one outside of my family has ever told me that. I was losing hope.”

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