Page 112 of Playing the Game
She doesn’t want kids.
She doesn’t want what I want.
More waves of tears flow. “Why can’t we get it right?”
“Get what right?” She strokes the back of my head.
“Us.” The word hangs thick in the air.
Dori hugs me tighter—like she’ll lose me if she doesn’t.
I wish I could hold in my emotions, but she broke the dam when she told me to let it out. I need her comfort more than anything.
Admitting that isn’t the most masculine thing, but it doesn’t matter. If we can’t make our relationship work, I’m not sure I’ll make it out in one piece.
“I don’t want to lose you too,” I whisper into her ear.
“You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
Trust her, Jamison.
I’m asking her to trust me, so I have to give her the same courtesy. She holds me untilI step away.
Her wary eyes scan my face. “I’m here for you, Jami. Just like you’ve been telling me. You need to lean on me when something is upsetting you. I need that from you.”
“I know you do.” A rogue tear falls off my lashes and onto my cheek.
She wipes it away. “You’re not going to lose me unless you push me away. Nothing you tell me will make me leave you.”
“Not even?—”
“Nothing. I told you I made a deal with God, and that’s one entity I’m not willing to betray.”
“If I didn’t think you were serious, I’d be laughing.”
She places her hand over my heart. “I’m dead serious. When I thought you were going to die, I prayed for one more chance with you. I know it’s the last one I’ll get, so I’m not fucking around. Not this time and not ever again.”
I run my hands down my face to wipe away my tears. “In that case, can you text Melanie to see if she can give us time to finish our conversation? I don’t want you leaving here with questions running wild in my head. I’m not in the right frame of mind to deal with them alone.”
“Of course.” She takes my hand and leads me out of the nursery. “I want to talk about this too. It’s important, and Melanie will understand. She kinda likes you.”
“Well, the feelings are mutual.”
We take the stairs down, and Dori enters the kitchen to grab her phone from her purse.
She sends a message, then gestures to the stools. “Sit down and let’s talk.”
“Do you want to talk here or in the living room?”
“Where will you be more comfortable?”
I check in with my pain level. Interestingly, I’ve been in less physical pain than I have been emotional. It gives me hope I’m on the upswing of my recovery.
“I’m good wherever you want to be.”
She nods and bends over, resting on the counter. “Then let’s stay in here. I like looking into your eyes when we talk.”
Warmth fills me to the core. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”
