Page 54 of Living for Truth
We work in comfortable silence together for a while until I remember Aly was having lunch with her mom today.
“How was Aly this morning?”
Morgan clears his throat. “She was okay. Nervous. She got Whitney a candle and some flowers, but Whitney acted like she gave her dirt or something. It was infuriating.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Aly must have been hurt.” I frown, feeling a sense of familiarity. I remember giving my mom gifts I made or picked out specifically for her, and she never acted like she appreciated them.
“She didn’t show it, but I can imagine she was. I hope she’s okay today…” he trails off and scoots the box over until he’s sitting right next to me. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
I pause my own unboxing to look at him, he looks nervous as hell. “Okay…”
“Whitney was being her usual petty self and mentioned you and Liam had some… fertility struggles.”
My heart rate kicks up, and a lead ball of dread drops into my stomach, replacing any appetite I had with anxiety-induced nausea.
When I don’t respond, he hesitantly continues, “She said you had… God, I feel so shitty repeating this inthis way. She said you had… multiple miscarriages.” I search his face for any hint of disgust, any hint of outrage atmebecause my body can’t do what it’s supposed to. For omitting the truth from him.
I find nothing but sympathy, which somehow feels worse, and then I can’t see anything at all because tears blur my vision, and a sob wrenches out of my throat.
“I’m going to say something that might hurt, but I think you should know.” He places a large hand on my knee, rubbing circles in the exposed dimpled flesh, and I brace myself for the inevitable end of whatever this is.
“Whitney implied that you were… defective. That it was your fault you miscarried. And I wanted you to know Liam is slandering you. You don’t deserve the blame.”
There it is—wait, what?
“I don’t know why your ex told Whitney, why she felt the need to tell me, or why she worded it so cruelly, but I feel you deserve to know what kind of person your ex-husband is.”
I bark a humorless laugh. “I already know what kind of person he is. He blamed me for the losses, saying I must not have been faithful enough, worthy enough, or wanted a baby enough to keep them. He left me alone each time I miscarried because he was squeamish and didn’t want to be around the blood.” I stare at a spot on the floor as tears steadily stream down my cheeks. “I wanted to go to a fertility clinic, try IVF or even IUI. My doctor even suggested an exploratory surgery to see if I had a septate uterus or endometriosis orsomething.But Liam said if we were going to have a baby, it was going to be the way God intended it to happen.
“Then, he did a complete one-eighty and said he realized God is trying to tell him not to have kids. So he started rethinking our entire marriage. He told me he was no longer attracted to me, and our marriage wasn’t compatible anymore. I wanted to go to therapy to work through it, but he refused. He served me divorce papers less than six months after the seventh miscarriage.”
Morgan scoots over and puts his arm around my shoulder, so I lay my head on his chest. He should stink from the heavy lifting, but he just smells a little musky with his usual spicy floral scent that adds to his appeal.
“I’m so, so sorry you went through that, Butterfly,” he whispers, like he’s too scared to break the tense vibe in the room.
I shrug. “I’m sorry you found out through your ex-girlfriend. I didn’t think it was important to bring up, and I didn’t knowhowto bring it up. So I guess now you know. I’m defective.”
“No,” he snaps. “You’re not defective. You probably have a medical condition, but it doesn't make you defective. Have you seen a doctor about it since the divorce?”
“No, I didn’t see a point. I didn’t think I’d ever want to be in a serious relationship ever again, much less try to have kids.”Until you.
“That’s valid. I’m sure it’d be scary to have to go through that alone. But Hannah, you’re not alone anymore. I—”
“I’m back!” Sage bursts through the door all smiles and excitement but deflates when she sees my face streaked with tears. “What’s wrong?”
I give her a watery smile. “Just regaling Morgan with tales of my douchebag ex-husband. He knows about the babies. Apparently Liam told Whitney.”
“What a fucking asshole. My offer to slash his tires is still open. Ooo, or key his doors. I’d love to ruin his douche-mobile a little.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need to bail you out of jail.” I let out a harsh sigh and look at Morgan. “Thank you. For listening. And for helping me move. And for being an amazing fake boyfriend.”
Morgan opens his mouth to say something but must decide against it. So he just nods and helps me off the floor.
While we’re enjoying lunch, Morgan’s phone rings, and he takes the call without hesitation. When he comes back his face is pinched in frustration.
“I’m sorry to have to jet, but that was Aly. Something happened with Whitney. Are we still on for next Saturday? The concert?”
“Of course. I’ll text you the details. I hope everything is okay. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” I give him another quick hug, and as I wrap my arms around him, he relaxes just a bit.
