Page 9 of One Last Kiss
Sam stiffened. So he was right. His inability to give her a baby was why she didn’t want him anymore. Pain spearfished his heart.
They had both wanted to start a family. It’d been fun trying to do that at first. Then the sex had become less spontaneous and more methodical. And each passing month that Abby didn’t turn up pregnant, she became more forlorn. She was a goal-based woman. She liked to be in control, and neither of them had any control over this.
Sam could agree that trying to get pregnant had been the start of their marriage troubles. He’d worked longer hours to pay for the fertility treatments. And he’d come home to a wife who’d only wanted him for the end goal. When it wasn’t the “right time” according to science, she wore baggy clothes and kept her distance.
He was a provider, and he wasn’t giving her what she needed. The doctor never said it was his fault, but sometimes he wondered if Abby blamed him anyway. Sometimes he blamed himself. That was a heavy burden to carry.
“Is that why you stopped loving me? Because I couldn’t get you pregnant?” The thought that the answer might be yes stung like saltwater in an open wound. It was them first. They could’ve adopted if it came to it. “You blame me?”
“No.” Abby seemed to struggle as she swallowed. “Sam, you stopped being there for me.”
“You stoppedneedingme to be there. All you needed was my paycheck and my sperm.”
Abby’s eyes widened as she looked at him. “I needed more than that. I needed a husband, Sam.”
“And I needed my wife. That’s why I told you I didn’t want to have a baby anymore. I was tired of the pressure.”
“Youwere tired of the pressure?Iwas the one who was supposed to get pregnant.”
“AndIwas the one who was supposed toget youpregnant. Don’t you think I saw the disappointment in your eyes every month? You were disappointed in me. You resented me. That’s why I started working harder and later, Abby. It became difficult to face you when it was so obvious I was letting you down.”
“What? You’re blaming your absence in our marriage on me?” she snapped.
He took a deep, settling breath. “No. No, I never blamed you for feeling that way. Some part of me thought maybe it was true. Maybe Iwasthe problem. That’s why I said I wanted to stop.”
Tears flooded Abby’s eyes. “What?”
“No man wants to feel like a failure when he looks into his wife’s eyes.”
“Sam, when you told me that you were done trying, I was already…” She blinked and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You were what?”
She met his gaze. “I was already pregnant. I was waiting to tell you until our anniversary dinner. The one you promised to be home for. I’d even wrapped the pregnancy test up for you to open.”
He set the jar of peanut butter down. “That doesn’t make sense. When I got home that night, you threw a plate of lasagna at me, picked up your overnight bag, and walked out.”
“When youfinallygot home,” she clarified. “By then it was too late. Dinner was cold and I’d already been to the ER. They confirmed that our baby had no heartbeat.”
Her truth felt like someone had kicked him square in the stomach. He couldn’t breathe, much less speak for a long moment. He was a father? They’d been pregnant? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her gaze hardened. “Because you already told me you didn’t want a baby anymore.”
“No, I said I didn’t want totryto get pregnant anymore. There’s a difference. Don’t you think I deserved to know?”
“What good would it have done?”
“I don’t know, Abby. I could’ve grieved with you. Helped you. We could’ve tried again.”
“Like I said. It wasn’t just one night, Sam. While you were full of your own self-loathing, I felt an overwhelming emptiness. That night was just when I finally got the realization that I’d been alone for a very long time. So why not make it official?”
Abby was shaking.She’d kept that secret in for so long, and it’d just exploded from her like soda out of a shaken bottle. And now that she’d opened that bottle, all the accompanying emotions were bubbling out.
Anger.
Guilt.
Grief.
