8
Rose stared at the test on the bathroom counter until the single line blurred.
One line.
Again.
She stood very still, one hand pressed against the edge of the sink, the other curled over her stomach as if she could comfort something that was not there.
The cottage was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan and Eli moving around somewhere in the kitchen. He was humming under his breath, off and on, that lazy habit he had when he was making coffee or looking for something he had set down two minutes earlier and then blamed on ghosts.
Usually, that sound warmed her.
Today, it nearly broke her.
Rose picked up the test, wrapped it in tissue, and pushed it deep into the trash under the sink. Then she leaned both hands on the counter and closed her eyes.
Do not cry.
Not now.
Not where he could hear.
Her breath shook anyway.
She had told herself this time would be different.
She had not said it out loud, because saying hope out loud made it feel easier for the world to snatch it away.
But she had counted days. Noticed every little ache.
Every wave of tiredness. Every strange flutter of possibility.
She had let herself imagine Eli standing in this same bathroom with her, grinning like a fool while she held up two pink lines.
A little Eli.
Or Ellie.
A baby with his smile. His eyes. His laugh. His impossible ability to turn any room into a song.
Rose pressed her fingers beneath her eyes before tears could fall.
No.
She would not do this.
She splashed cold water on her face, patted her cheeks dry, and looked at herself in the mirror.
Smile.
She tried.
It looked awful.
“Rose?”
Eli’s voice came from the other side of the door.
Her body went tight. “Yeah?”
“You all right?”
She reached for her lip gloss with trembling fingers. “I’m fine.”
Silence.
Then, softer, “Baby.”
That one word nearly undid her.
Rose closed her eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
The door opened before she could fix her face.
Eli stood there in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, hair a little messy, eyes already too knowing. He looked from her face to the sink, then to the trash cabinet beneath it.
Rose stepped slightly in front of it.
Too late.
His expression changed.
Not with anger. Not disappointment.
Concern.
Deep, immediate, tender concern.
“Oh, Rosie.”
She shook her head quickly. “Don’t.”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m breaking.”
His jaw tightened. “Are you?”
She tried to laugh, but it came out thin. “No.”
“Rose.”
“I said no.”
He did not argue. He only stood there, close enough to touch, patient enough that she hated him for half a second because it made lying impossible.
Her mouth trembled.
“I got another negative.”
Eli’s eyes closed briefly.
That was all.
Just one blink too long.
But Rose saw it. She saw the hurt he tried to swallow for her sake, and shame rushed in so fast it stole her breath.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His eyes opened. “No.”
“I am.”
“No.”
“Eli, I’m trying not to make this a whole thing, but I am so tired of disappointing you.”
His whole face shifted.
“Disappointing me?”
She turned away because she could not bear the look in his eyes. “I know you want children.”
“I want you.”
“You say that now.”
“I say that always.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Every month I think maybe this is it. Maybe this time. And every month it’s just me in here staring at one line like a fool.” Her voice broke. “I feel like I’m failing you.”
Eli moved then.
He stepped in front of her, caught her face gently between his hands, and made her look at him.
“Wipe that thought out of your mind.”
Her lips parted.
“I mean it,” he said. “Right now. Gone.”
“Eli.”
“No, listen to me. You are not failing me. You hear me? You are not a test. You are not a womb I married with a woman attached. You are my wife. The woman I prayed for before I knew I was praying. The woman I want to come home to, wake up beside, fight with over closet space, sing with, grow old with. I have what I wanted most.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“You,” he said, brushing them away with his thumbs. “I have you.”
Rose made a small broken sound and leaned into him.
He wrapped his arms around her, firm and warm, and held her like he could keep every ugly thought from finding her again.
She pressed her face to his chest. “I want to give you a baby.”
“I know.”
“I want one too.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I want a little Eli running around here charming everybody out of trouble.”
He rubbed her back. “That child would be dangerous.”
“Or a little Ellie with your smile and my attitude.”
“Then we’d have to apologize to the entire county in advance.”
Rose laughed once, watery and sad.
“I want that,” she whispered. “I want us. With a baby. Our baby.”
“I do too,” he said. “But baby, there are other ways to have children.”
She lifted her head.
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “We could follow Luke and Edye’s example. Adopt. Give a child a home the way they did with Nia and Malik.”
Rose swallowed.
“Or,” he continued, “we could see a doctor. Find out what’s really going on with both our reproductive organs.”
A laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it. “That is not romantic.”
“No, but it’s practical. And you know I like to be both handsome and useful.”
“Eli.”
“I’m serious.” His eyes held hers. “We keep sitting in this bathroom letting one little plastic stick punch us in the chest. Maybe it’s time we stop guessing and get answers.”
Her smile faded. Fear returned, quiet and cold.
“What if,” she began.
He put one finger gently over her lips. “No.”
She blinked.
“What ifs and chicken butts aren’t going to help.”
Rose stared at him.
Then she gave a startled laugh. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“That is the dumbest thing you have ever said.”
“Not even close.”
She laughed again, harder this time, even while tears ran down her face.
Eli smiled, but his eyes stayed serious. “We’ll find a doctor and find out what’s happening. With both of us. Then we can make an informed decision about the next steps.”
“Both of us?” she asked softly.
“Both of us,” he said. “You are not carrying this by yourself. Not the fear. Not the testing. Not the answers. Not any of it.”
Her chest squeezed.
“What if it’s me?”
“What did I just say about what ifs?”
“Chicken butts,” she whispered.
“Exactly.”
A laugh broke through her tears again.
He cupped her cheek. “If it’s you, I love you. If it’s me, you love me. If it’s both of us, we love each other. If it’s something a doctor can help with, we get help. If it means adoption, we talk about adoption. If it means a road we haven’t thought of yet, we look at the map together.”
Rose looked up at him, her heart aching with so much love it almost felt like pain.
“You make it sound simple.”
“No,” he said. “I make it sound possible.”
That undid her.
She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding on hard. “That’s why I love you.”
“Because I’m wise?”
“Because you can make me laugh when I want to cry.”
He smiled against her temple. “And here I thought you married me for all the dirty things I do to you in the dark.”
A giggle escaped her, small and helpless and real.
She pulled back enough to look at him. “That did help a little.”
“Only a little?”
“A moderate amount.”
His eyebrows rose. “Moderate?”
“Fine. A lot.”
“That’s better.”
Rose laughed again, and this time it did not feel like she was falling apart. It felt like she was being held together.
Eli kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.
“We’ll call a doctor tomorrow,” he said.
She nodded, though fear still fluttered in her chest. “Tomorrow.”
“And tonight?”
“What about tonight?”
“Tonight, you let me make dinner.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You mean order dinner?”
“I mean lovingly arrange food someone else cooked onto plates.”
“That’s probably safer.”
He gave her an offended look. “I can cook.”
“You can make eggs.”
“Eggs are food.”
“You burn toast.”
“I prefer the word crisp.”
She smiled despite herself.
Eli brushed one last tear from her cheek. “There she is.”
Rose leaned into his touch.
She still hurt.
The negative test still sat wrapped in tissue beneath the sink like a tiny, cruel secret.
But it was not hidden anymore.
Not from Eli.
Not between them.
And somehow, that made the bathroom feel less like a place where hope had failed again and more like the place where they had finally decided to stop being afraid alone.