Chapter Two
BLUE
My phone’s been pinging nonstop, and I’m smart enough not to read any of what’s happening on social media. I can assume most are sympathetic, siding with West and I after Pandora’s awful post.
But then there are the others. Those who get off on the gossip, seeing it as nothing more than entertainment.
At the thought of it—my infertility being fair game for the masses to discuss—I curl into myself, pulling the comforter over my shoulder. The pain is real, and I feel it all over.
In my bones.
Adding insult to injury, tonight was already tough for us. The argument here at home with West spilled over to the diner bathroom. Now, we’re in this strange place of limbo that’s followed us right back to ground zero.
West’s words echo in my head, hearing that he hasn’t had time to address the issue with his shoulder because there’s no time. My health, the fertility treatment process, has consumed us. To the point that my husband doesn’t feel there’s room in our lives for him to be cared for…
Let’s just say guilt is weighing on me just as heavily as all the other emotions.
Hugging myself beneath the blanket doesn’t help, neither does wishing it was his arms around me instead. When I’m hurting, West is usually my comfort zone. I melt into him, borrow his strength until my own returns, but… that doesn’t feel like an option tonight.
Not with how we left things.
Broken. Awkward. Ugly.
Our security guys brought me home from the diner when it was too much to face everyone.
West was about ten minutes behind me. We’ve been under the same roof for two full hours and still haven’t spoken to one another.
But, apparently, he’s gotten bored with ESPN, because I hear his steps coming toward our bedroom.
The door creaks open behind me, and I’m silent, watching his distorted shadow slide across the wall as he comes closer.
“I… made you some tea,” he says with a hint of hesitation. Like, maybe he’s just as confused about how we navigate this as I am.
And maybe he’s just as fucked up about it, too.
“Thank you.”
He places the saucer and mug on my nightstand, and his expression is unreadable. He lingers, maybe deciding what to do next, and it reminds me of those quick, calculated decisions he makes on the field.
The bed shifts beneath his weight when he settles in front of me on the mattress. Fresh tears sting the corners of my eyes, because it hurts having him so close, but still feeling so distant at the same time. This isn’t us.
My phone sounds off again, but the notification is different—an actual text this time. Not more of the social media bullshit. So, thinking it’s safe to check, I reach for my phone, but the second I see April’s name pop up on the screen, I regret it.
April: Hey, you left so quickly, I didn’t even get to speak to you.
I’m so, so sorry, Blue. Genuinely. There are no words to express it.
Mine and Reed’s hearts are with you and West. If you need me for ANYTHING, don’t hesitate to call.
And I know I asked for your help with the gala, but don’t even think about that right now.
Just focus on being well. Love you, girl.
I sigh and let my phone fall to the floor, hearing it land somewhere near West’s feet. He doesn’t even question what happened, just lets me have my moment, lets me be in my feelings.
“You okay?” he asks. “Tonight was… a lot.”
I nod against my pillow. “I’m fine.”
My throat tightens from the lie. I’m far from fine. I believe we both are.
“This has to stop.” West lets out a breath, and I can practically feel his frustration filling the room. “What we’ve gone through isn’t some damn punchline.”
I imagine it, the entire city, the entire country, knowing how we’ve struggled.
Knowing I’m the reason my husband has yet to become a father.
The pillow absorbs the tears that stream from my eyes, and I intentionally don’t make a sound, not wanting West to know how deeply I’m affected.
“I’m sick of being fucking quiet while this bitch, Pandora, does whatever the fuck she wants to.”
I feel the same way—have since we first set out for Cypress Pointe, and she sucked nearly every ounce of joy from the moment.
West lets out another ragged breath, and I’m reminded of the rest of what Pandora hinted at.
I reach to place a hand on West’s back but pull away when I remember the sting of our argument.
“I’m sorry she keeps threatening to bring up your past,” I say. “I know it’s hard having that hanging over your head all the time.”
He doesn’t speak, but I can see his silhouette when he nods.
He’s fought hard to get where he is. Now, to be here and have Pandora dangle exposure in front of his face, just so he never forgets how easily it could all be taken away. It’s a constant source of pain.
“We have to do something. I have to do something.”
I hear him, and I get it, but Pandora’s post isn’t all that’s on my mind right now. For a while, that overshadowed everything else, and yes, it sucks that she’s shared what should have been ours to share if we ever chose to, but… honestly? I’m not even sure that’s the worst part.
“We should probably talk. About the other thing.” My voice is thin and small, cautious. The last thing I think either of us wants or needs is for this conversation to make things worse.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding again. “I don’t know how we got here—arguing, saying shit we don’t mean…”
My stomach twists into a knot as the weight of everything settles on me.
“I think we need to see someone. A marriage counselor.”
He’s silent again, and I know he doesn’t want to even think about that, but I believe we’ve reached a critical fork in the road.
One where we either decide to take responsibility for the current state of our relationship and allow someone to guide us.
Or we can choose to be stubborn, convincing ourselves that we can fix this alone, only to learn we don’t have the right tools.
“Okay,” he says, and I wait, thinking he’ll say more, but nothing.
Just ‘okay’.
That’s it.
So, I guess it’s my turn to speak again.
“And… I meant what I said about reaching out to Dr. Tyler, putting a pause on treatment. Now’s probably not the best time. Considering…”
My voice trails off, and I literally hate this.
Everything about it. When I imagined our life together, there was an ease to it.
In that vision, we had a kid already, with another on the way.
Our evenings were a little chaotic between getting dinner on the table and getting our little one to bed, but it was fun chaos.
Good chaos. Then, once the house was quiet and it was just the two of us, we’d settle on the couch in each other’s arms to just… be.
There was nothing in that fantasy that looked like this, though—emotional nights where our hearts are in limbo, words going unspoken because we’ve become so fragile.
“You’re wrong.”
West’s words cut through the silence, and my gaze shifts to him. “About?”
He pushes a hand through his dark hair as he sighs. “You implied that you’re some kind of burden to me, but I could never think that. When I hurt my shoulder, you were the one who took care of me, Blue. Day and night. And I wasn’t exactly an easy patient,” he adds with a soft laugh.
The sound sends a feeling of warmth rushing through me.
“My point is, we vowed to take care of each other. In every way imaginable. And that’s what we do. That’s what we will always do.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest, and my breathing deepens. For so many reasons, I needed to hear him say that.
He shifts until he’s sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, and our eyes lock through the darkness. I go willingly when he tugs me toward him, bringing me into his arms.
“We’ll do counseling, we’ll pause the treatment, and we’ll focus on us for a while.” His arms tighten around me. “I’m also giving you my word that I’ll do better.”
I let myself melt into him, like I’ve wanted to do so many times tonight, and the tears are flowing again.
“I’m scared,” I admit, squeezing his neck just a little tighter.
“I know, but… we’ll be okay.”
That promise rings in my thoughts for several seconds. Having West’s reassurance used to be enough, but that was before.
Before this new version of us showed up.
We cling to one another, like we’re holding on for dear life. Maybe we are. Because all around, circling like sharks drawn in by the scent of blood in the water, is the threat of failure.
And honestly?
I’ve never been more terrified.