Page 93 of Good as Gold
He enters, crossing to the kitchen area and seating himself on a stool.
“You look like a man with a lot on his mind,” I say, even as my heart continues to plummet. I’d hoped we could have one more hot night, no tears. I’d wanted to skip the sad part.
But Matteo is throwing off a dark kind of energy. He accepts a glass of lemonade from me, then props his handsome face in one hand and studies me with those dark brown eyes. “I need to ask you a question.”
My stomach tightens. “Yes?”
“You told me that a baby was the thing you want most in the world. Is that still true?”
I swallow hard, because the question confuses me. “Yes, of course. I haven’t changed my mind.”
His expression flattens. I have the strange feeling that I gave the wrong answer, which makes no sense. “Okay. Then I need you to do something for me,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“Go back to the doctor and reconsider IVF. Or…the other one.”
“IUI?”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his long hair. “I want you to have a baby, and I haven’t been able to give one to you.”
My heart drops. “But I haven’t given up. Sometimes it takes a year.”
“I know that.” He nods slowly. “But I have to go back to Colorado. I don’t have a choice. And you told me that you’re short on time. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get your dream.”
“You’renot,” I insist.
His eyebrows lift, as if in challenge. “It takes two, yeah? You said you’re short on time. The clock is ticking.”
“Well, that’s true. Except…” I’m in turmoil now. He doesn’t want to keep trying?
“You deserve it all, Leila. I want you to have this.” He looks away and clears his throat. “Now I need to tell you a little secret, because you’re going to hear it anyway, and I don’t want you to be too surprised.”
My stomach freefalls. “What is it?”
“Skye is pregnant,” he says softly. “They haven’t told anyone yet, but they will real soon.”
“Oh.”Oh shit. I can feel my eyes growing hot for some maddening reason. “Already?”
He nods slowly. “First try, apparently.”
“Oh wow.” I inhale carefully. I kind of knew this would happen, but I still feel the blow.
I shouldn’t. But I do.
Matteo doesn’t miss it, either. He sets his glass down and circles the kitchen island to pull me into his arms. I tuck my cheek against his shoulder and breathe in the sunshiny scent of him.
“I know how much you want this,” he whispers. “Don’t give up, okay? I couldn’t live with that.”
“Okay,” I say. But instead of feeling grateful, I just feel sad and confused. Because the baby isn’t the only thing I want anymore, is it?
“You’ll get there,” he whispers.
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, you will.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I blurt. It’s hard to know which is worse—the fact that I’m probably not pregnant. Or the fact that he’s leaving.
