“And what if I am being a little rational about Tyler? More people should be rational about their relationships. If they were, we wouldn’t have so many single moms with deadbeat baby daddies and cheating spouses who destroy their families. What the hell is wrong with being practical and looking at things logically?”
“Break up with him.” She pressed her mouth into a line. “Break up with him before he moves in.”
The woman came out of the stall, washed her hands, and Sloan and I stood glaring at each other in silence. The lady tore off a towel, dried her hands, and left.
“Why?” I asked once the door was closed. “What is the point in breaking off a perfectly good relationship with a decent man I care about whose lifestyle fits my own?”
“Uh, happiness? So you can maybe have a shot with Josh? Or someone like him who wants kids? How can you act like this isn’t something you want?”
“Who cares if it’s something I want?” I threw up my hands. “It’s completely irrelevant. I can’t have it.”
She glared at me.
“So I move on Josh. And then what? We fall in love? Why? So he can maybe decide to settle? So he can date me for a few years until he feels resentful enough to leave me? After wasting a few good years when he could be with someone who can give him a family? Or worse, he stays and always wonders what if? Gives up on what he wants? That’s assuming he’d even look at me twice after he finds out I don’t have a fucking uterus.”
She shook her head. “At least give him the chance to make the decision himself. What if he’s okay with adopting?”
I blew out a slow breath. “He did make the decision, with the last one, who he loved and was already living with. And that man doesn’t want to adopt—he wants his own kids. I asked.”
“Okay, well maybe you can get pregnant. You’ve never tried. You can’t know if you don’t try, and you can’t try if you don’t have a uterus,” she snapped.
I cocked my head. “I never used protection with Tyler. Not once. Not with any of my serious boyfriends going back to junior year. I’ve been playing baby Russian roulette for eight years, and I don’t see any kids running around.” I threw my arms out and looked around the bathroom. “And it’s worse than it’s ever been.”
The puff of air she let out told me she knew she was losing the argument. “Just…have an honest conversation with Josh. Maybe—”
“No.” For the first time since we’d started talking about it, anger bubbled inside of me. “Do you think discussing my deficiencies as a woman with a man that I’m half in love with is something I want to put myself through?”
My voice cracked at my admission, and I needed a moment to regain my composure. I bit my lips together until the tightness in my throat went away.
“Why would I tell him, Sloan? To humiliate myself? To have him look at me with pity? Or worse, to get rejected? There’s not going to be any rejection, because I won’t be making an offer. There’s no point. I’d like to spare myself this one indignity, if that’s okay with you.”
We stood in silence—her looking wounded and me trying to understand why something so rational felt so shitty.
I let out a long breath. “Do I have feelings for Josh? Yeah. I do, okay? He’s fucking wonderful and I fucking hate that I can’t pursue it. But I can’t. I can never guarantee that I can give him kids. In fact, I can almost guarantee that I can’t. I know how this goes and I’m not going there.”
My pause let the words settle. When I continued speaking, my voice had gone so weary I didn’t even recognize it as my own. “This isn’t a man who wants one or two kids, Sloan. He came from a huge family. You know what he told me the other day?” Bitterness rose in my chest. “He said he wants a whole baseball team of kids. It’s all he wants. And it’s the one thing I can’t give him. Not really. Not in any way that’s close to what he has planned for himself.”
I bit the inside of my cheek until it hurt and I looked away from her. “He couldn’t sit with me in the bathroom and watch the little pink line show up on the stick or put his hand to my belly and feel his baby kicking. He wouldn’t be able to come with me to ultrasounds or hold my hand while I push. This is a man who wants to be a daddy, Sloan. And I’m never going to be a mommy. It just is what it is.”
Her bottom lip trembled and she looked like she might start sobbing.
Sloan was always the emotional one. This was why I didn’t want to tell her about it. Now it was going to cast a shadow on what should have been a carefree time for her before her wedding. I should have never said anything. It was selfish of me.
I sighed. “Sloan, you’re a romantic. You have some vision in your head of us being pregnant together and the four of us going on vacations and pushing jogging strollers around the block. You’ll just have to adjust.”
She swiped at her eyes with her thumb. “I hate this. I hate that you have to give up so much.”
“I’m not. Don’t think about what I’m giving up. Think about what I’m getting back. The thought of never having to have another period for the rest of my life makes me want to fucking cry from happiness. I’m so ready to be done.”
She looked so miserable you’d think she was having the hysterectomy. I hated it and I loved her for it.
I put my hands on her arms. “You know what I really need? I just need you to listen and support me. That’s it. Tell me you can do that.”
Please. Be my friend. I need you.
She nodded, closed the space between us, and hugged me. The familiar smell of her honeysuckle perfume—of my best friend—grounded me, and I realized how hard it had been not being able to talk to her about it, or tell her how Josh made me feel.
“Sloan?” I said after a moment, my chin over her shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“I TP’d your house with Josh.”
She sniffled. “I know.”
I laughed a little and squeezed my eyes shut.
“The Josh thing would have been so cool,” she whispered into my ear.
It would have been cool. But men like Josh weren’t for me anymore. They’d never be for me again. Men who wanted pregnant wives and big families, sons that looked like their dads—these men weren’t the ones I could choose from. I could have Tylers. I could have more dogs. A bigger career without kids to distract me. I could have more disposable income and a clean house without crayon on the walls and dirty diapers to change. I could be the cool aunt.
But I couldn’t have children.
And I could never, ever, have Josh.