Chapter 5 Nora
NORA
My head rises and falls as I rest on Nate’s chest, his breathing soothing, but I can’t sleep. Evan’s words play over in my head on loop. I’ve known him as long as I’ve known Nate. The two are inseparable, and he’s not only Nate’s best friend, but he’s also mine.
If he were to donate his sperm, it would make everything so much easier to bear, but also complicate things to no end. Still, I entertain the idea quietly. Hope blooms in my chest where there was nothing but despair this morning.
I slip my hand to my soft, round belly and imagine it’s filled with a baby. Being a big girl with a full figure helps my imagination. It might not be Nate’s blood that runs through our baby’s veins, but it would be Evan’s. Our best friend, and maybe that’s the next best thing.
Nate stirs in his sleep and rolls onto his side, hugging me tighter to him as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear. He cracks open one eye in the dark room, lit only by a sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtain. “You still awake?”
I let my fingers play with the hair on his chest. “I can’t sleep.”
He dips his head to catch my lips.
“I can’t stop thinking about what Evan said.”
Nate’s mouth quirks into a grin. “You wanna try out two men?” He chuckles lazily from sleep and tickles my sides.
I giggle and squirm against him. “Stop.” I swat his chest. “You know what I mean.”
He furrows his brow. “Was it when he said Emilie liked it up the arse?”
I roll my eyes and lie on my back with a sigh. “You know what I’m talking about.”
It’s as if neither of us dare speak it out loud, so he’s making jokes instead. If we say it, then we’ll have to seriously consider it. If Evan’s serious, then I’m willing to try, but I don’t know how Nate feels about it and I’m afraid to ask.
Nate brushes the hair from my face. “Yeah, I was as surprised as you were.”
I roll onto my side to face him. “I’ve been reading about intrauterine insemination. They insert the sperm from a donor and will also accept patients with higher BMIs.”
Nate huffs. “Yeah, and charge you a shitload of money. We could do that ourselves with a very long syringe.”
I jab him in the ribs, his body softer now than it once was. “I’m not a cow.”
He nuzzles against my neck and kisses me there, his hands squeezing the rolls on my stomach as if he wants to imagine a baby there as much as I do.
“I want to milk you after you’ve given birth.
I want this belly full with our family.” He lifts, gazing into my eyes.
“If Evan’s the answer to that solution, then I’d happily try. Whatever it takes.”
A sob rises in my throat as I stare into my husband’s eyes, full of sorrow and love. I rake my fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp.
“Take your knickers off.” His callused fingers tug at the elastic waistband.
My body tenses, but I lift my bottom allowing him to pull them down my thighs and remove them.
With a groan, he climbs on top of me, spreading my legs with his knees, and lifts the old band t-shirt of his that covers my belly. His erection pushes against me, sending a delightful shiver up my spine. Reaching down, he tugs the front of his boxers down, letting his full length spring free.
We haven’t had sex since we found out about his condition.
There didn’t seem any point. For years, sex has been a necessity to make a baby.
We both climax and enjoy it, but it has felt more like a chore.
Each time, his movements were tender, careful, as if gentleness would coax life into me.
It’s not that I don’t want him—I always do.
But the moment his hands are on me, the hollow ache of what we’ve lost pushes up against the heat of what we still have.
My heart is torn between wanting him to touch me and knowing that no matter how many times he does, it won’t give us what we’re desperate for.
But tonight, as he gazes into my eyes, his pupils are dark with need, hunger instead of hope. He wants me. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed my husband.
“Relax.” He reaches between us and strokes his length against my slick folds. “It’s been a long time since I fucked my wife.”
I quirk my lips. “It’s been just over two weeks.”
“That wasn’t fucking.”
Before I can speak, he slams into me, taking my breath away. A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, and I let out a moan of my own.
“That was making love,” he growls, thrusting again, harder, deeper. “Tonight I’m going to fuck you like the dirty girl you used to be who couldn’t get enough of this cock.” He pulls out and slams back into me, hitting the spot inside that makes me cry out again.
My nails rake down his back, my body arching up to meet him.
For so long, every thrust has been timed and hopeful—his eyes searching mine for signs of conception instead of pleasure.
But this… this is raw, urgent, messy. This is my Nate before ovulation calendars and test strips.
This is the man who used to fuck me in the back of his car because we couldn’t wait until we got home.
This is the man I married, the man who knows me better than I know myself, the man who worships every inch of my body no matter what shape or size I’ve been over the years.
This is the man I love, and until now I hadn’t realised how much I’ve missed him.
My body melts around him, remembering what it’s like to be wanted, for our pleasure and nothing more. The irony burns—the moment I finally feel like a wife again, not just a potential mother, is the same moment I know it won’t bring us a child. My eyes sting even as my body begs for more.
I bite into his shoulder, holding back a sob as my orgasm crashes over me. He roars his release seconds later, spilling into me with everything he has. My body shakes with each aftershock of my orgasm, my clit sensitive from the weight of his pelvis.
Nate stays inside me, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathless. His hand slides over my stomach, holding me there as he has done many times after sex, a habit, as though he can will it to swell. “I’ll give you anything, Nora,” he whispers. “Even if it means giving you to him.”
My heart clenches, and the tears I’ve held back finally fall.
He rolls us onto our sides. Silently, he holds me while I sob against his soft chest, the hairs there tickling my nose, and the familiar scent of him all around me.
He presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m sorry I’m not enough for you, dimples.”
Acid burns its way up my throat as I choke out, “You are enough for me.” It’s the truth. He’s always been enough for me when it comes to a man, a husband, and a lover. Only now, there’s something else I want, and as much as I try to separate the two, the lines blur.
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming with him, my mind running in circles. Evan’s face flickers in my thoughts—his words, his offer. The promise of something that could fill the emptiness inside me, but make wounds in our marriage neither of us will be able to heal.
Could I really do it? Could I let another man give us what Nate can’t?
He may say he’s fine with it, but would the baby be a reminder of everything he thinks he failed at?
Would I have everything I’ve ever wanted, only to lose the best thing in my life?
These are uncharted waters for both of us.
We already have so many waves of emotions, and we haven’t even set sail.
Nate shifts, pulling me closer. I bury my face against his chest, my tears soaking into his skin.
Maybe love means doing the impossible.
Maybe love means breaking the rules.
I close my eyes, clinging to him, to us, knowing that by morning, the seed of hope Evan planted tonight will have rooted so deep I’ll never be able to dig it out.
Because that seed of hope is my lifeline, our future, our family.