chapter 74
After those minutes with Chase, I suddenly couldn’t stand Tobey’s touch. I didn’t feel worthy, not with his loving gaze already clawing through my skin. That night, when he pulled me to him, I winced, the brush of his fingers across my stomach prickly, my hand unable to stop in pushing him away.
“Not tonight.”
“Do you feel okay?” He was worried, after my rush to the bathroom during the game.
I’d had nausea during my first pregnancy.
So maybe … always the maybe, floating out there.
He didn’t know about the birth control implant I had put in.
I’d done it after the miscarriage, terrified of the chance of another baby, one that might chain us together forever.
Now, four years later, our marriage was in a different, stronger place, one where love had grown from the seeds of friendship and circumstance.
But even after the love, I didn’t remove the implant.
I told myself that I couldn’t handle another loss.
And I didn’t tell Tobey. I’m not sure why, except that I didn’t know how to discuss my motivations.
How do you tell your husband that you don’t want to carry his child?
“Just something I ate.” I could feel the disappointment in his silence. He kissed the back of my neck, our bodies connected, torso to toes, and I closed my eyes, trying to relax against his touch. The love of a man who had stayed. It should have felt wonderful. Instead, it felt empty.
Funny how much things could change in four years.
In the beginning, when we were first pushed into the engagement, Tobey didn’t care about the team.
It was my thing. Mine and his father’s. Tobey was an occasional participant in team meetings, sometimes at games, his schedule as sporadic as our affection, our common ground being our impending parenthood.
After we lost the baby, we were two strangers in a big, new house, avoiding the nursery, avoiding each other, neither sure why we were still in the union.
The team was what pushed us back together, Tobey’s father having his first stroke, stepping down from his role in the organization, and pushing Tobey to take the reins.
I think the old man knew what he was doing; I think he saw our marriage falter and wrapped pinstripes around the two of us, binding us.
Whether by design or fate, we stepped into Thomas Grant’s shoes as one, splitting duties and decision-making, our stiff dinners becoming more of business meetings, everything focused on the team and its success.
And success did come, both for the team and for us.
We moved on from the baby. Had sex more, awkward conversation less.
We became friends, grew to respect each other’s opinions, trust each other’s decisions.
Tobey grew up from a spoiled rich kid, and I grew up from a tomboy.
And from our friendship, grew a love. A love that I thought would carry us, and the team, until our deaths.
“I love you,” he whispered against my hair.
“I love you too.”
I loved him. I did. Anything that I had once had with Chase … it had to stay in the past. What had happened in that powder room—it could never happen again.