“Supposed to be with?” He turned to me, his eyes narrowed. “Trust me, I’m not. Because you deserve to be with a man who can give you children, who can take care of you when you’re pregnant, who can be your partner through the whole process.”
It dawned on me.
Hard and heavy.
“It’s not that you don’t want children…you can’t have them.”
He looked away again, ashamed.
My hand immediately went to his arm.
He pushed it off and stepped away. “I want you to leave.”
“Then you’re going to have to throw me over your shoulder and carry me out of here because my ass isn’t going anywhere.”
“Fine.” He marched to the coatrack and grabbed a sweater before he pulled it over his head. “Then I’ll leave.”
I went to the door and blocked it with my body.
It was the first time he’d shown me rage. Pure rage.
“Talk to me.”
His nostrils flared like those of a charging bull.
“I’m not moving, so make your move or talk to me.”
He stared at the floor for a moment before he threw his keys down, ripping off his sweater and tossing it aside. He stepped away, pacing in his living room.
I didn’t drop my guard and stayed by the door.
“We tried to conceive for about a year. Miscarriage after miscarriage. She was distraught, thinking it was her, that she was the one who was broken. Watching her go through that…still haunts me.” He faced the other way, as if he couldn’t meet my look as he said this. “So, we went to the doctor…and realized it was me.”
My back left the door and came closer.
“Something wrong with my chromosomes. Something to do with the blood disorder I have. She was devastated but told me it was okay, that we would adopt. But when we started the process, she changed her mind. She left me.” He slowly turned back to me, his eyes devoid of emotion, like he was half asleep. “She has two girls now.”
My eyes watered, the raw pain cutting me deep, like I’d just gone through it myself. “Doctors are wrong about this stuff all the time—”
“He was not wrong. Every second opinion we got was the same.”
The tears started to bubble over my eyelids no matter how hard I tried to fight them. “There’s a solution to every problem—”
“I will only give you miscarriages. And trust me when I tell you it’s the worst pain you’ll ever go through.”
“There are other options, sperm donor, adoption—”
“You shouldn’t have to settle for that. I’ve seen you surrounded by your family, seen the way you are with them, seen the kinds of bonds that I’ve never had with anyone else in my life. I can’t give you that.”
“My family would love adopted children just as much—”
“You say that now, but it’s not what you want. No one wants that unless they have no other option. You do have another option, Daisy.”
“Then we’ll do a sperm donor—”
“Why would I want to have a child from another man when I can adopt someone who needs a home?”
“Then we’ll adopt—”
“You need to pass on your DNA, Daisy. Your gifts need to continue in the gene pool. Look at everything your family has contributed to society because you’re so high on the IQ scale that you’re capable of doing what other people can’t. It’s your obligation. Don’t change your entire life for a man who can’t give you what someone else can.” He stepped farther away, moving to the other side of the living room to sit on the couch. “I love you so much…and that’s why I can’t do this to you.”
“It’s my choice—”
“No. If I’d told you this from the beginning, you wouldn’t have given me the time of day.”
“That’s not true—”
“Yes, it is.”
I stepped closer to him. “Atlas, I’m not her. I’m not going to abandon you—”
“She loved me as much as you do—and she still left. You aren’t trying to have a child right now, but when you do, you’ll resent me. You’ll see your pregnant friends and hate that you can’t have that yourself. You’ll see family photos on mantels and view them much differently. There will be a void in your life that no amount of love can fill.”
The tears escaped and dripped down my cheeks. “Atlas—”
“I should have told you right in the beginning, but I was an asshole.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re an asshole.” I wiped the tears away. “I understand how hard this is for you.”
“Trust me, you don’t understand.” His arms returned to his knees, and he stared at the floor for a while, his eyes open and vacant, reliving memories that he didn’t want to share.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to fix this.
He pushed to his feet again, grabbed his sweater off the floor, and slowly walked to the door.