Too Much Information (Awkward Love 3)

“She’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t,” I growl. I’m one second away from punching him in the throat. “Matt, if you don’t—”

“Laura can’t have kids.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. I shake my head, trying to find the words to respond to what he just said.

“What do you mean?” I stare at him.

“She was sick when she was a kid. She had a bunch of surgeries, which meant removing everything needed to grow a kid. Uterus, ovaries, all of it. She’s physically incapable of having a baby.”

I bow my head and bury it in my hands. I feel sick, because all her odd behavior now makes sense. I think about all the stupid and ridiculous comments I’ve made over the past few weeks and I want to take it all back. No wonder she acted weird whenever I made a comment about getting married and having kids.

I cringe. “Jesus. I told her I wanted three kids, so that the last two could be backups,” I mutter.

“What kind of asshole says that?” Matt gasps. “That’s a really insensitive thing to say.” He frowns at me.

“Well obviously. I didn’t mean it. I was joking around.”

“Look, the comments don’t matter. None of that shit would worry Laura. Not even a little bit. Trust me, I’ve been putting my foot in it for the past God knows how many years. She’s struggling with this because you have a daughter. You suddenly come with this instant family. You have the one thing that she can never give you, and you got it from someone else.”

“Shit,” I say. I rub my forehead. “I’ve really messed things up.”

“No, you haven’t. She should have told. Really, it was selfish of her not to tell you everything the moment she started feeling anything for you.”

“But how does she bring up something like that?” I defend her, because I’m not angry at her. I’m angry at myself for not being more sensitive.

“I’ve got to go,” I mumble.

I have to figure out how to fix this.Chapter FourteenLauraLaura,

I’m not sure if you’re avoiding me, but I thought maybe it would be best if I gave us both some space to digest this news. We started the discussion on me moving out, but we never finished it. I’ll be over there if you need me for anything.

Who am I kidding? The last thing I want is to leave. I want to stay here, with you and work through this, but I don’t want to pressure you to accept this. I know it’s a shock. I get it. I do. Things are so much more complicated now, but I’m not giving up. I’m not ready to lose you over this.

Call me or text me when you get this. Please.

I love you.

Luke.I read the note for the fifteenth time and then I carry it over to the couch and lie down to read it again. He’s right. I have been avoiding him. I stayed at Becca’s last night so that I wouldn’t have to face him, but the funny thing is, I want to work through this as much as he does, but I’m struggling.

I can’t stop my mind from going around in circles. Someone else has given him the one thing I’ll never be able to, and then I feel awful for thinking that way about that poor woman. I wish there was some way I could fix everything, but I can’t. I can’t change the future and I can’t change the past. I’ve only been away from him for a day and I’m already missing him. Becca had a point. How would I have gone six months without seeing him?

I lie there in the silence with my eyes closed. So many times, over the last week, I wanted to tell him to forget about his apartment and just stay here. Things were working so well. I was scared that him moving out would change things. And now what? He sleeps in with me, so his daughter can have the spare room? I laugh, because it’s ridiculous. The kicker is that he still doesn’t know that I can’t have kids.

I remember the way he looked when he held Elina in his arms at the hospital. What if Allie makes him realize how much he’s missed out on? I wouldn’t blame him for wanting more kids. I know there are other options and maybe I’ll want to explore them one day, but right now, I don’t. My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. I pick it up, frowning at the number, because I don’t recognize it.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I’m looking for a Laura Black?”

“That’s me.” I sigh, rubbing my head.

“I’m Doctor Banks. I’m one of the registrars at UCLA hospital. An Iris Billingham has been admitted here and you’re listed has her emergency contact.”