Page 111 of Devilry

“Then what is it?”

“I was going to ask her to marry me.”

Now it’s my turn to be shocked. “What do you meanwas?”

“About a year ago we decided we wanted to start trying for a family. I bought her a ring the next day, knowing the day she told me she was pregnant, I would propose. It felt like the right thing to do. Like we’d come full circle. We fell in love as kids and now we’d be having our own.

“Six months later, and nothing had happened. I said we could wait a little longer, but you know Megs… She wanted answers. So, we booked a doctor’s appointment to get checked out.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, chasing the tears away. “Turns out she was right, there was something wrong, and it’s me.”

“What am I missing here?” I ask. “There are so many options these days. It won’t be impossible to have a kid.”

“I’m supposed to get tests performed to see if anything can be done, but I don’t want to know, so I’ve been putting it off.”

“So she doesn’t know?”

“She had a work deadline she had to meet. I told her I’d go without her. When she asked, I told her the doctor said let’s keep trying.”

“Trey,” I groan. “You’ve made this so much worse than it needs to be.”

“I know, but I didn’t want her to marry me without knowing, but I can’t seem to find the right time to tell her.”

“Nothing will be as bad as whatever scenarios she’s made up in her head. You know that, right?”

He nods. “I’ll tell her this weekend. At least I know when she’s hating on me, you’ll be here to calm her down.”

“She’ll understand,” I assure him.

“Yeah… But she’ll be angry first.”

After a few moments of silence, I slap both my hands on the table. “I think it’s about time I called it a night.”

“Not so fast. I spilled, now it’s your fucking turn.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I deflect.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you one thing, and then you don’t get to ask any questions.”

“I’m going to regret agreeing to this, but okay, tell me.”

“He’s my student.”

His face falls, but it isn’t the shocked expression that surprises me, it’s the pity.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re in love with him.”

“I said no more—”

“I wasn’t asking a question, Cole,” he states. “But maybe you should.”

I look at him expectantly.

“When are you going to tell him?”

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