Page 66 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“No, Jonah, I struggled for years with endometriosis, and earlier this year I had to get a hysterectomy. There’s not even a chance of me getting pregnant.” Bronte swallowed to keep from sobbing. “Ever.”
“Oh, well.” Jonah’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “That’s okay. Really, it is. There are other options. Like adoption. We could adopt to start a family.”
“No, Jonah. I don’t want kids at all.”
Jonah jerked his hands off her face as if she’d burned him. His eyes slid closed.
Bronte felt as if she were breathing out of a straw. More than anything, she wished they could go back to this morning, when they’d been laughing and looking forward to what would come. But even going back, no matter how far, wouldn’t change the fact that she’d never be able to be enough for Jonah. If she had a magic genie, she’d wish to go all the way back to when she’d decided to come to Jonathon Island. She’d make a different choice. She’d go somewhere else. Somewhere she’d never meet Jonah.
Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. Even with all the pain, the feeling as if her heart were being ripped from her body, she wouldn’t trade anything for these last couple weeks with Jonah. She’d take the pain over never having known him.
She wanted to pull him back to her, but she couldn’t touch him. If she touched him and he pushed her away, what was left of her heart would crumble. She steadied her shaking breath and took a step back.
Jonah opened his eyes and let his hands drop to his sides. “Bronte, I?—”
The front door crashed open, cutting off whatever he was going to say.
“Honey, I’m hoooooome!” someone shouted.
Neither she nor Jonah moved. Part of her brain told her she should be concerned with someone bursting into the house, but she couldn’t look away from Jonah. She studied the face she didn’t want to ever forget. Blue eyes that pierced her soul every time he looked at her, making her feel like she was the only person in the room. Eyes that were as kind as they were intense. The way his whole face crinkled when he smiled. The scruff that, even though he’d shaved earlier, was already making its way back onto his face. She wanted to remember the way his hands were gentle as they held her.
“Jonah?” a woman’s voice called.
Surely Bree wouldn’t have followed Jonah home. Would she?
Someone flung themselves at Jonah’s back, arms and legs circling him in a bear hug. He bent forward, and Bronte caught sight of a girl with a puffy jacket and bright-pink beanie with a puff ball on top. More people poured in from the front hallway. An older man pulling a rolling suitcase almost as big as he was, a woman with gray streaked through her dark hair, a girl with large glasses dwarfing her face who looked like she was on the brink of being a teenager, and two women who looked so much like Jonah. Bronte had seen all these people before. She’d been living under their gazes for the past two weeks.
Jonah’s family was home early.
Wiping her hand over her face, Bronte stepped back, ready to gather her stuff and let Jonah have time with his family. Even with her heart crumbling, she was glad they’d surprised him. She closed her laptop, then stacked her notebook on top, creating a neat pile.
“Oh, did we just interrupt something here?” The girl who had been on Jonah’s back now stood next to them, a finger bouncing back and forth between Jonah and Bronte.
“No.” Jonah denied it. “Bronte, this is Holland. Holland, Bronte.”
Bronte offered her hand to the smaller, feminine version of Jonah. Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, Holland looked exactly like someone Bronte would have loved getting to know. “Nice to meet you,” she said, pasting a fake smile on her face. “I thought you weren’t coming back for a couple more days.”
Holland winced. “I guess that means you didn’t get my message that we were coming home early? I know Jonah planned on flying out to see us.” She tugged off her hat and tossed it to the table. “But we couldn’t wait any longer and thought we’d surprise him here. I’m so sorry about the mix-up! I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble. I’ve already refunded your money for the stay.”
“Oh.” Bronte’s gaze darted to Jonah, who was looking anywhere but at her. “That’s not necessary. It’s fine. Really.”
“Of course it’s necessary. Besides”—she shrugged her shoulders—“it’s already done. Merry Christmas!”
Bronte didn’t know what to do, so she just nodded her thanks and turned back to gather her things.
Holland exclaimed, “Oh gosh, Dad, let me help you,” and turned to help the older man, who was currently hidden behind the three duffel bags in his arms.
The fist in her stomach grew bigger, and she just wanted to go back up to her room to cry and pack and try to forget this night had ever happened.
Jonah stopped Bronte with a hand on her arm. It felt as if everything melted away with his one touch. Everything fell silent. In this moment it was just her and Jonah.
“Please.” His eyes moved back and forth over hers. “I can tell you want to bolt, but we need to keep talking. Stay.”
There wasn’t anything Bronte wanted more. She wanted to stay and meet the people who had made Jonah the person he was. But that would just make the leaving that much harder.
And she had to leave.
Someone tugged at Jonah’s arm, and they were pulled apart before Bronte could say anything. She couldn’t be here anymore. Seeing Jonah with his family, she understood why he wanted the big family. Why he wanted lots of kids. And no matter how much they talked about it, how much they tried to work through it, Bronte would never be able to give him that. Not only because she couldn’t have children but because she wouldn’t know the first thing about being a mom. About being part of a real family.
