Page 15 of Perfect for Her

I take a breath, not really wanting to have this conversation right now.

“Mark, get dressed,” I mutter, finally finding my shorts and pulling them on before walking toward the stairs to make sure Ethan is okay.

When I don’t hear anything, I reluctantly make my way back into the room. I knew I was going to have to have this conversation with anyone that I had sex with but having it with Mark is harder than I expected.

“Why aren’t you angry?” he asks again, his pants pulled up to his hips with the button undone as he sits in the same spot like the last twenty minutes never happened.

“Because when I told you I couldn’t get pregnant, I meant it.” I take a breath and sit at the other end of the couch, waiting for the questions that will inevitably get thrown my way.

“Birth control?”

I shake my head. My fingers begin to play with the edges of my shirt as the memories of that day filter through my mind.

“What happened, sweetheart?”

God, I love when he calls me that.

“My pregnancy with Ethan was seamless. Nothing was wrong, it was easy and so when I went into labor, I thought it would be smooth sailing.”

“But it wasn’t.” I shake my head, fighting the emotions that always come with thinking about that day. It’s always a mixture of pure joy at the thought of becoming a mother and meeting Ethan for the first time, but then there’s the trauma of what happened next.

“As I told you before, my labor took a long time. And Ethan was big, over eleven pounds, so with my tiny body, the doctors were scared something would happen, and they were right.”

Mark scoots closer, his hands fisting in his lap as I take another breath, needing time to gather my thoughts.

“What happened?” he whispers, the room eerily silent as our gazes meet and I wonder how this is going to go.

“My uterus ruptured during labor, I was bleeding a lot and the doctors were afraid that Ethan wouldn’t be able to get enough oxygen so they did an emergency C-section.”

His eyes are glued to mine, the fear plastered on his face.

“But I was bleeding too much to stop it, so they had to take it out.”

It’s silent for a minute and when his eyes narrow, I know he doesn’t get it.

“They took what out?”

“My uterus. That’s why I wasn’t afraid of you finishing inside me. It’s because there’s nothing in there to make a baby with anymore.”

His eyes widen, his back hitting the back of the couch as the information sinks in.

“You can’t have kids anymore?” His voice is small, his eyes unsure and I give him a reassuring smile, knowing I’ve had four years to deal with this, but this is brand-new information for him.

When I shake my head, he eliminates the space between us and takes my face in the palms of his hands.

“You’re okay though? Everything okay now?”

I can’t help the smirk that plays on the edge of my lips. This was the man I always saw myself with when I was growing up. A man who would look past everything and just see me, and if I was okay.

“Yes, I’m fine. The recovery at the time was brutal but eventually, Ethan and I were allowed to go home.”

A dark look crosses his features and my fingers grip his wrists, questions in my eyes.

“Who helped you?”

The smile is sad this time because the reality was, I was alone. “No one. But we survived and are better for it,” I admit, needing him to know that I wasn’t in a bad place because he wasn’t around. Would it have been better if he was, of course, but that is not on him, and I never want him to carry that guilt.

“Let me stay the night.”

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