Page 105 of Connectio
“That bad, ay?”
“Depends how you look at it. I guess I see both sides.” I fiddle with the hem of my cami.
“You wanna talk?”
“I do.”
He pats the spot on the sofa next to him. “Come here, sweetheart. I hate it when you’re so far away.”
My chest squeezes with love and apprehension, and my hands tremble. “I can’t have kids,” I blurt out before taking a seat. “I mean, there’s more to it than that, but the bottom line is, I had cancer in my fallopian tube when I was fourteen, so both tubes were removed. I’m sterile, and I’m okay with that. I have a classroom full of kids. They’re my kids, and I love each and every one of them. That’s why I became a teacher, to help raise kids I didn’t bring into the world. It’s the next best thing. I—”
“Whoa!” He blinks. “Slow down.” Will reaches for my hands and pulls me onto his lap. “You had cancer?”
“Yes. I suffer from Cowden Syndrome. You probably haven’t heard of it, because it’s rare. It’s inherited. Runs on Dad’s side of the family. Basically, I get multiple noncancerous growths on various parts of my body, but I have an increased risk of developing certain types of cancers. Breast, thyroid, endometrial, which is what I already had. I see a specialist every month and have scans multiple times a year.”
“Shit, Lib.” His misty eyes chase mine. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not. It is what it is, but it does mean I’ll never have kids, and if you stay with me, you won’t either. And I… I don’t want to be responsible for that. You’re great with kids. Really great, and you deserve to have them. This is my brick wall in life, and I don’t want to be the reason for it becoming yours as well.”
He rubs the pad of his thumb across my cheek, and I close my eyes and lean in to his touch.
“Can’t you do IVF?”
“I can,” I say, opening my eyes, “but I don’t want to. I don’t want to pass this disease on, and if I have kids, there’s an exponential chance I will. I want it to stop with me.” I take his hand in mine. “I’ve made peace with my decision, but you don’t have to.”
Will gently tucks a tendril of my hair behind my ear. “I don’t want kids either.”
I rear back. “What? Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because I don’t. My kids are my animals. They’re enough. Always have been.”
Swiping his hand away, I stand up. “You’re just saying that. Don’t brush this off like it’s nothing.”
He stands up too. “I’m not.”
“I think you are.”
“Don’t tell me what I think and feel, Elizabeth.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I just want you to let this all sink in, properly. Really understand what it means. I’m locked into this lifestyle; you’re not.”
“I know what it means.”
“Will, you need to think about this for longer than five fucking minutes,” I seethe.
The doorbell rings, and we both look toward the front door.
I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “I need to get that.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
Huffing, I make my way to the door, look into the peephole, and find Lucy on the doorstep. “Shit!”
“Who is it?” Will whispers, his beard tickling my ear.
