First Real Kiss

Chapter 27

Sheridan

“So, if I’m hearing you right,” Jane said, taking another big bite of her ice cream cone and ignoring the kids’ fight over the tire swing at the park, “you told him you’re in love with him and then you left. You owe him an apology.”

“Maybe.” Maybe not. The only people who deserved apologies were Roland’s family. I’d promised them in the letter I sent them after the funeral I’d get them one, and I had failed. I needed to go beg their forgiveness. Add that to my list of terrible, difficult things to do.

“Uh. Seriously? You do. The way I see it, he said he dreamed you had a future life together. The whole enchilada, marriage and kids, love and happiness. A dog. That he let you choose the name for. And you left.”

“That’s not why I left.” Or had it been? I dug my toe into the playground’s sand and then pulled my legs up onto the park bench and hugged them. “You’re not listening.”

“No, I’m listening. You’re not telling me something. Again.”

True. I hadn’t told Jane about the implications of the accident. I hadn’t told Luke. I hadn’t even told Mom and Dad. I certainly hadn’t told Case. Luckily, I hadn’t needed to tell Case. Case hadn’t wanted children, and he would have taken the reveal of my biggest heartache with indifference.

I take back everything I’d ever said about bad reactions. Indifference was the worst reaction imaginable. Far worse than pity.

So I’d kept it to myself.

Then again, getting dumped for it might be worse. Especially now that I’d let my whole heart get wrapped up in Luke Hotwell—and he’d allowed his heart and hopes to get wrapped up in me.

So what if he’d started all that with a wacky dream?

I’d worked enough with clients to know that perception might as well be reality. The body’s fight-or-flight reactions operated on a subconscious level, and they had no ability to discern truth from falsehood. All Luke seemed to know was that he was in love with me on a deep, spiritual level—a love that we could apparently take the rest of our lives building. He seemed to be good with the fact that he’d already arrived at the point of his real, intense feelings for me.

Frankly, I’d been at that point for a long time with him. He’d been my rescuer, the man my soul longed for.

Everything but my reproductive system was along for the ride. Well, even some of those parts were along. They’d been gunning the throttle ever since our first meeting, frankly. And most insistently last night.

I wanted Luke. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be his wife.

“He can’t want me, Jane.”

“And why not? Are you defective? You’re not. You’re amazing. The most amazing woman I know. That’s why I set you up with Dusty, since he’s super cool. You’re the bee’s knees.”

“Thank you.” What else could I say? “But I can’t be the mom of his kids.”

“Why not? I’ve seen you with my kids. They think you’re Mary Poppins! They ask about you every single day. They call you their aunt—and refuse to call my sister Ophelia their aunt because they think they can only have one aunt, and they choose Aunt Sheridan.”

Jane wasn’t hearing me. I scrunched my eyes shut and blurted it all out. “I—can’t be the mom of his children because I can’t be the mom of any children. Jane, when I was crushed in the library, that part of my anatomy broke.”

I peeked open an eye to gauge her reaction.

For a moment, Jane’s mouth hung open. Then it shut. I expected her eyes to fill with pity tears, and for her to throw her arms around me. Instead, her brows pushed together, and she adopted her Attorney Jane skeptical look. “Who told you that?”

“They said it when I was injured.”

“Who said it?”

“I don’t know. It was …” Who had it been? I scrolled back through the memory. “Medical workers.”

“Doctors?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters. It totally matters.” She gave an exasperated eye-roll. “When you got married to Case, you had one of those pre-nup gynecologist checkups, right?” She eyed me closer. “Right?”

I frowned. “I’d seen my lifetime quota of doctors. Trust me.” And anytime any of them brought up the crushed pelvis issue, I’d shut them down. Discussing bad news never made anyone happier.