27. Natalie
Natalie
“Why do you keep checking your phone?” Luke walks out of the bathroom in jeans. He isn’t wearing a shirt, giving me the perfect view of his flat stomach and a sprinkling of blond hair on his chest.
He walks toward where I lie tucked in bed, scrolling through my messages.
Rays of early-morning light filter through the side of the curtains.
“You find something better on there than this?” He runs his hands down his chest and abs in a playful show.
It makes me laugh. I pretend to cover my eyes but continue to watch through the cracks between my fingers.
He leans down, his hand pressing into the pillow beside my head. He hovers over me, and his expensive bergamot cologne fills my nostrils after he’s just shaved. Tendrils of his wet hair tickle my forehead, and his bare chest radiates warmth as he leans his body above mine.
He pulls my hands from my eyes. “Well? I’m waiting for an answer.”
“I forgot the question,” I say, a little breathlessly.
“Did you find something better to look at?” he whispers against my ear.
I shake my head. He takes the phone from my fingers—not glancing at the list of clients I was looking at—and places it on the nightstand.
“Good,” he growls, leaning down to kiss me. His lips are soft and he tastes like winter mint.
“Maybe we should just stay here,” he says against my lips. “We don’t have to ride horses, if you know what I mean.”
I feel his smile stretch mid-kiss.
Cupping his face in my hands, I push him back. “Luke, I love you. But—I don’t know—I feel weird about all … that right now.”
His eyebrows fall. “Why? We’re married.”
“I know, but … I want to have a baby, and you don’t.
” He lifts himself off of me, and I sit up against the headboard.
“If we sleep together, then I’m just hoping I’ll get pregnant.
Having that thought lingering over my head makes it hard to just enjoy the moment.
It’s not that I don’t want to—I do—but it’s been this way for a while now.
I don’t feel like that’s being fair to you.
” I look down, worried about what he’ll say and how my words will make him feel.
He reaches out, his finger brushing a stray lock of hair from my eye. His gentle touch is everything to me. I crave it like a drug. I’m an addict searching for my next fix, anticipating the way it will feel when I finally have it again—the rush.
But I keep pushing away every time he starts something physical. I know he’s missed me and I know what he wants, but I don’t think I can give it to him. It hurts me as much as it hurts him, the withdrawal from his intoxicating touch a greater struggle than I know how to handle.
“Nat, listen to me,” he says, his voice firm. When I don’t say anything, he says, “Please look at me.”
I look up. His bright blue eyes are fixed on mine.
“I’m only going to say this once, so pay close attention.
I’m not going anywhere. I want you in every way possible.
I want the you that’s lost so I can guide you home.
I want the you that’s broken so I can patch you up.
I want the you that’s unsure of the future, because I know that I’m the one to help you plan it out.
No matter how much you push me away, I’m not going anywhere.
I’ll be patient with you. As long as you need.
As long as it takes to figure this out. Okay? ”
I look away.
“Okay, Natalie?” He tilts my chin up with the same finger, bringing my focus back to him.
“I will keep fighting for you, like I said I would. I’m not giving up.
But if you want to”—his brows furrow—“then I won’t stop you from leaving.
But you have to choose what you want. If you want to work on us or if you don’t.
If you love me like you say you still do, I have to know.
Talk to me. Try with me. Because I’m a hundred percent with you, Natalie. ”
I sigh. “You know what I want. I want to be a mother. Can you at least say you’ll think about giving me that? I don’t ever ask for anything. Only this.”
He’s silent for a moment, but he doesn’t move away. I’m still trapped under his gaze and wanting the feel of his body on mine.
A breath escapes him. “I’m thinking about it,” he says.
My stomach dips. He sees the near-invisible excitement play across my face in a wave.
“I didn’t say yes. Not right now,” he reminds me. “But I’m trying. I’m trying, for you, to see past the obstacles I’m dealing with around the situation.”
I nod, sucking my lips between my teeth. My voice is a whisper. “That’s better than saying no.”
Luke grins down at me. “You know, making love isn’t just about making babies. It’s about two people who love each other more than anyone else in the world choosing to show that love in a physical, tangible way.”
My brow lifts. “Are you saying you don’t think I love you if I don’t sleep with you?”
He chuckles. “Far from it. I’m saying I want to show you how much I love you. We’ve been married for seven years, Natalie. We’ve had all that practice, and we haven’t made a baby yet.”
“I know. That’s the problem.”
He sighs, and then he’s getting up and stepping away from the bed, hands on his hips. The air around me is empty as he steps out of my little bubble of personal space.
I swing my bare legs off the bed. “It’s just going to take a while for me to get used to the idea of not having kids. In case you never really change your mind. I think I have to somehow get that thought out of my head before I can be intimate again … What—what do you think of adopting?”
“Adopting?” His hand runs through his freshly washed hair.
I nod again. “So we could still have a baby without getting pregnant. Since you’re worried about a miscarriage, we could start a family by adopting … You do want a family, don’t you? If the potential of losing a pregnancy were wiped off the table, would you want to have children?”
He’s silent so long, I wonder if he’ll answer. I hold my breath in anticipation and hang my head, staring at my toes as they dig into the plush white rug. Footsteps sound on the hardwood floor before the bed dips and I see his bare feet on the rug beside mine.
“I do want a family. But I don’t want to adopt.”
I look up and frown. “You want to find a surrogate?”
“No.” He wrinkles his brow. “Not that.”
“Then how do you expect us to have kids if you don’t want them naturally, but you also don’t want to adopt or have a surrogate?”
“I don’t know.” His hair flops as he shakes his head back and forth. “I’m still working through it.” His eyes lock on mine. “When you just mentioned adoption, the first image that came to mind was us with a kid that looked nothing like us.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Of course not. But when I think of us having kids … I imagine ones that look like you.”
Hope flares to life like a sparkler in my chest. He imagines us with kids. It’s more than I ever hoped for before, and I finally feel like we’re getting closer to turning my dream of motherhood into a reality. But it will still take time for him to be ready.
I slide my hand into his, unwilling to let this conversation die here. “What do these kids look like? In your imagination.”
Creases form at the corners of his eyes. “Their faces are blurry. But they have blonde hair. And one’s a girl. She has your eyes.”
My vision turns watery as I look at him. He’s finally seeing what I’ve always imagined.
“When did you start seeing them?” I ask softly.
“Last night. After Levi talked my ear off about fish and snakes.” He chuckles, and a teary laugh bubbles out of me.
“Seeing Juliet and Cameron with their boys got me thinking about what it would be like if you and I did have kids. Levi looks so much like Cam. And Cam is a good dad. He listens to them and teaches them. I want to be like that.”
I smile, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Not the whole thing, but what’s left is lighter and more bearable. “You’d be an amazing dad. I really believe that.”
“Thanks.” His hand slides out of mine to rest on my knee. “And you’d be an amazing mother.” A pause. “You know I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted, right?”
I bite my lip.
“I’ve done all I can to make the life we have be enough for you,” he says.
“You want something? You get it. I never want you to feel like you don’t deserve the best. You deserve the world, and I’ve moved moons to give it to you.
But this”—he motions between us—“this is more than moving a moon. It’s a whole galaxy.
I’ve had years for these fears to settle.
It’s all I stand on now. Fear isn’t easily swept away.
” His head hangs, hair covering his eyes.
“I know that. But you’re trying. And I appreciate that more than you know.
I never thought we’d even get to this point.
That we’d be having a conversation about what our future kids could look like.
That you’d even care if they look like you or me.
I didn’t think we’d ever have a real conversation about kids at all.
” I run my fingers through the hair at his nape.
“We’re moving in the right direction, Luke.
Really. Truly. We’re still here. Together.
It’s just a bump in the road on our way to happily ever after, right? ”
He lifts his head, leans in, and kisses me. Just once. Our foreheads meet, and we sit for a minute, breathing each other in, sharing our space and our vulnerability with one another.
“You should get ready for our trail ride,” Luke says, standing and crossing to the dresser. He pulls a plain white shirt from a drawer.
I cross the room to him, lifting my hands to his chest. “I love you,” I say.
“I love you, too.”
I kiss him, long and slow, then I head to the bathroom. I’m in one of Luke’s oversized T-shirts, and nothing covers my legs.
“You’re going to like the outfit I got for today,” I say, my body halfway through the bathroom doorway.
“Oh?” He bounces his eyebrows. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’m going to be a real cowgirl. Prepare yourself. You might be blown away.” I wink.
“You blow me away every day. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
The fireworks in my stomach flare to life again. I laugh, turning the shower on, and watch through the crack in the door as my husband pulls the plain white tee over his head.
Plain white tees never looked so good.