Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
“Of course I’d have stayed. I would’ve done anything for you. Imagining how alone you must’ve been, how hurt …” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t bear it.”
“That’s why I left. I knew you wouldn’t leave me, and I needed to hope you would be happy. Some days were so dark that the thought of that alone was what got me out of bed.”
She didn’t withdraw her hand. Mitch squeezed it—once, twice; his skin tingled at the contact with hers. It was slightly warmer than it had been at the start of the conversation.
“You said your father has invested lots of money in Huntington’s research? Surely, over the last ten years medicine has moved on,” he said.
Jackie sniffed. “There was recently lots of buzz around a new gene therapy, the first one to successfully treat it. But it’s all so early on and … who knows what’s going to happen.”
“You might never need treatment. You might never have it … You said it yourself.”
Their gazes joined in an implacable lock.
“You can’t predict the future. Who knows what’s going to happen?
I might die of a heart attack by the time I’m forty.
Or one of us might have cancer. Or get into a stupid accident.
I could’ve died when I smashed into that wall.
But I didn’t.” Mitch drew a deep breath, his eyes not leaving her face.
“You can’t let the fear of something that might never happen stop you from living your life. ”
She scoffed, wiping away her free-flowing tears with the back of her free hand. “That’s what my parents always say.”
“They’re right. Hell, judging from the way the world’s going, who knows if we’re even going to be here in twenty years’ time.” His throat constricted, blades of fear slashing through. He breathed through it, steeling himself.
Jackie inched closer to him, pulling her tear-streaked pillow with her.
“At first, I was so scared I had it. That I would be one of the unlucky people in this gray category—that’s what they called it—who would develop it.
Then, as the years went by, my fear shifted.
Because what if I wouldn’t ever get symptoms and I threw away the best years of my life, threw away everything for— no-nothing?
” Tears garbled her words, and she pressed her face into the pillow.
Mitch’s heart cracked wide open.
“Oh, love.” He pulled her to his chest, running his fingers through her hair. “Nothing in life is certain. I know that this is not a reason I would walk away from you—not then and not now that I know.”
“But I can never give you children.” She sobbed into his chest. “I don’t regret tying my tubes. I’d do it again if given the choice. Knowing this … Having seen Weronika … I could never do it to an innocent child.”
“There are other ways to have a family.” His heart threw itself against his chest, his fingers encircling and squeezing hers. “Would you be open to adopting? Or using a surrogate? Not anytime soon, just as … something you’d ever consider.”
Mitch held his breath, his pulse seemingly frozen until she released it with her answer. He wanted her, and her alone, more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. Damn him, if she said no, it probably wouldn’t change anything for him. It should, he knew that.
But his heart had been hers for years. After all the pain, all the longing and all the joy she brought into his life, she might’ve as well carved it out, put it in a chest like Davy Jones, and taken it away around the world with her.
Now that she was back, his heart was whole again.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—give this up.
“Of course I would. I thought about it but there was never anyone I wanted to do it with. And I wasn’t ready to do it alone.” Jackie sniffed, the hazy lamplight dusting her high cheekbones. “Growing up with Sharon showed me that you don’t have to give birth to a child to love them unconditionally.”
Mitch opened his mouth, wanting to say something deep, something fitting, but he realized there were no right words for this moment. He blinked back the pressure building behind his eyelids and summoned a wide smile. “You’re incredible, Jacqueiline van Moetlier.”
She pushed away from him, sitting up against the headboard.
Puffiness and redness rimmed her eyes. Her lips set in a thin line and her jaw hardened.
“As much as I know there are other ways to become a parent, less than two weeks ago you stood at the altar, ready to get married to another woman and start a family with her. I bet you thought about decorating the baby’s room, about teaching your kids horseback riding and taking them golfing.
I bet that was all in the future you imagined. ”
Mitch threw the sheet off his chest and sat too. “Well, yes, but—”
“No buts. Trust me, I thought about it more than I should. But there was never anyone else I wanted to consider it with or for. You, on the other hand … I’ve always wanted everything, the whole package, with you.”
“We could still have that.” His heart painfully thumped against his ribcage. He thought he knew where this was going and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Yes, we could.” Jackie smiled. “But I need you to take time away from the whirlwind of what we shared here to really consider what it all means. Because I had ten years to come to terms with it, and I still stumble, daily.”
He frowned, tears swimming in his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“Go home, Mitch. Go back to your life, think about it and the future you want. Think about how I’d fit into it, with the caveats that you now know.
Think—really think—how you’d feel if you never had a child in the conventional way.
Think whether you can love me, be with me, knowing that I might go on to have Huntington’s later down the line. ”
“And if the answer to all of that is yes? Because I can tell you right now that I want you, not only despite all this, but because of it.” He cupped her cheek, a desperate smile stretching his lips.
“The resilience, the strength you had to develop to endure all this … You are the love of my life. I can’t leave you. ”
She put her hands on his wrists, smiling back at him through fresh tears. “I’m not telling you to leave me. Let it all breathe a bit, let us breathe. Six months. That’s all I’m asking.”
Mitch stayed quiet for a moment. His burning gaze zeroed in on her tattoo. He swallowed thickly, reaching over and tracing its outline with reverence.
Jackie didn’t push his hand away.
He couldn’t believe she got it. She feared needles, used to say she’d never get one.
A bubble of longing turned into a stone lodged at the base of his throat. Although he hadn’t been sure before tonight whether he could live the rest of his life without her, he now knew the answer was: hell, no. They were like these damn eagles, mated for life.
He shook his head, his jaw set tight. “Jackie, we’ve been apart ten years already.”
“Then what’s an extra six months?” She rested her forehead against his, drawing in a deep inhale. “I want you to be sure. Because you’re also the love of my life. I won’t be able to handle it if I dive into this, into us, and you’re going to change your mind.”
“Three months,” Mitch tried.
Jackie chuckled. “This isn’t a negotiation. Six. It’ll fly by, you’ll see. Besides, I need to stay here for another five months, until the actual hotel manager comes back from maternity leave. That’s the reason I’m here.”
“I could stay here, too,” he blurted.
“Absolutely not. You need to figure stuff out for yourself. Besides, having you here has been so distracting that I’m not sure I can handle a few more days, never mind months.”
Mitch sighed, pouting.
Her lips brushed his and he closed his eyes, wanting to bottle the sensation.
He groaned. “All right. If this is what you need, to be sure about us forever … Six months.”
She kissed him, slow and deliberate, like she wanted to channel all the gratitude, love, and hope into the gesture. “Thank you,” she whispered into his mouth.
“How are we going to do this?”
Jackie tilted her head to consider his question. “We can’t keep in touch, because I want you to think clearly. If in six months you’re still in, meet me in Betty’s Hens Saloon.”
His brow shot up. “That brings back memories.”
She bit back a smile. “All kinds of them.”
He pulled her to his chest, linking their small fingers together. “Six months.”
She nodded. “Six months.”
“And then we’ll have the rest of our lives.”
“If you—”
He put a finger to her lip. “No ifs. Then we stay together. No backing away.”
“Yes, Mitch. Six months and then it’s forever.” She tilted her head back, squeezing his finger tighter and dropping a kiss on his forehead. “Forehead kisses, pinky promises.”