Page 37 of The Renter
“You’re never going to let me have an ego, huh?”
“Not my style.” Her big smile beams on her face, and I squeeze her hand.I like her.
“I would have been able to start Harris withoutdaddy’s money… But it gave us rocket fuel for sure.”
“When did your dad die?”
“When I was thirty-two … Heart attack. Since we’re on the topic,” I hesitate and decide to share, “My mom has also passed … when I was nineteen. It was a freak health thing.”
She doesn’t say anything, but her big hazel eyes signal she empathizes with the fact that I’m an orphan.
“Yeah, so for the last decade, Harris Ventures has been a main focus. I didn’t intend for it to be my entire life …” I trail off, wondering if I should share how I was hoping to be a father by now. “Plan A, let’s call it, didn’t go to plan.”
“Your marriage?”
“That was collateral damage of Plan A, for sure.” I rub the back of my neck, considering my relationship with Dani. She’s more than a fuckbuddy. If she’s going to be part of my life, we should talk about these things. “Wendy, my ex, and I tried for years to have a baby.”
“Oh,” she says, squeezing my hand.
“It was a long road of trying to get and stay pregnant.” She sighs softly and I continue, “It was mostly a silent struggle—very few people knew about that part of our life.” The look on Dani’s face reads like she’s unsure if she should say something or let me keep speaking. “We spent years hanging on to hope, but all it did was make us angry and frustrated with each other.” I pause, deciding if I should keep sharing. I want Dani to know me and decide to continue. “The endless cycles of IVF—it made me feel less like a husband and more like a sperm donor trying to make our plan come to life.”
As I say it, I realize how easily that sums up four years and the downfall of my marriage.
“The uncertainty was the hardest part.” I look over at her and she’s resting her fist under her chin, giving me her full attention. “I had to be so strong. I know I wasn’t the one having the miscarriages, but I experienced a lot of loss too.”
“That’s so tough,” she softly says.
“Yeah. At the end, I was open to adoption or having an egg donor, but …” I’m pained thinking about it. “It wasn’t what she wanted.”
I sigh, letting out a huff. I’ve never shared all of that, especially how I truly felt, with anyone else. “It was challenging. It challenged my masculinity and my soul.” I’ve never said that aloud, but it’s something that’s been coming up with all the meditation I’ve been doing.
“I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” she says, leaning over to me and placing a kiss on my cheek. It’s tender, and I feel so at ease with Dani.
“I never thought I would get divorced,” I share. “As archaic as marriage can be, I believe in it, but after dating for four years and nearly six years of marriage, our journey together ended.”
“That’s so …” Dani shakes her head. “That sucks.”
“It did. The divorce …” I shake my head, not wanting to get riled up about how my ex handled the divorce. “It was a battleground where our shared pain and unfulfilled dreams clashed quite publicly—as you’ve seen.” Dani raises her brow, and I know she’s read all the articles. I’m still pissed at Wendy for speaking with the press about every little thing. I’ll never forgive her for that. “If I learned anything from it”—I glance at Dani—”it’s that if you want kids, don’t wait too long. It seems like it’s something you can keep pushing off, until you can’t.”
“I think my eggs have plenty of shelf life.” She nudges. Despite her light-hearted response, I sense a deeper understanding between us.
“On to lighter topics. I’m curious,” I say after a few silent moments. “If money didn’t matter, what would you do with your life?”
“Travel,” she says immediately. “I’d love to travel so much more than I have. The last big trip I went on was five years ago when I studied abroad. I haven’t been outside of North America since.”
“What else would you do?”
“I’d still do some kind of work like helping a nonprofit with their marketing and PR. I’d like to be mission-focused, working with organizations that empower women.”
28
Our conversation is interrupted by a call from Declan Kruk, his name big and bold on the car’s screen. I immediately notice the shift in Adam’s demeanor—the professional, calculated side of him emerging, a part of him I’m still getting to know.
It feels like an intrusion, and now I’m irritated. Declan always has a way of making me feel irritated. Adam puts up his index finger, and I assume he’s signaling for me to be quiet.
“I’m in the car,” Adam says after tapping the answer button.
“Pro tip for you,” Declan’s distinctly sexy voice says through the speakers. “Buy the dip on Polygon right now. The meme traders are about to stir things up.”
