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Failure. You are an undisciplined, weak-willed woman, Jenny Harrison.
Jenny sat on the back patio, rocking back and forth in the metal chair, like a kid rhythmically banging her head against a wall.
The longing for a child had become an obsession with Jenny over the past month. She’d tried, truly tried, to push the fixation to the back of her mind, determined not to selfishly change the rules of their marriage just because she decided she needed Gabe’s baby to complete her. But she’d had little success.
Thoughts of a baby assaulted Jenny’s defensive mental wall, hammering away until it cracked, allowing recollections and feelings to trickle to her consciousness, until her wall crumbled then burst, flooding every waking moment with thoughts of pregnancy and aching loss.
A baby now was right. They could do it. She could fill the hole in her heart with a new little soul, if Gabe was willing. Uneasiness prickled her conscience. He’d been supportive when she hadn’t wanted children. He was happy with their life the way it was. He’d been adamant they couldn’t foster children—would he find the energy and time for their child if she asked? How could she ask?
Jenny’s gaze wandered next door. Steve was a man. He was Gabe’s friend. He might be able to give her valuable insight into Gabe’s reaction to changing her mind. He might know a good way to broach the subject and persuade Gabe.
He was a lawyer; manipulating—Jenny frowned, poor word choice. She didn’t want to manipulate Gabe; she wanted to approach the discussion the best way possible to optimize her chances of a successful outcome. That was better. Getting people to agree with him was Steve’s job. And he was good at it.
Slowly rising, Jenny wiped moist hands down her jeans, slipped her feet into her flip-flops, and crossed through the hedge. She had at least a half an hour before Gabe was due home. Plenty of time for a consultation. She knocked on Steve’s door, and then turned the knob to let herself in.
“Hey, Grant? You home?”
No answer. Jenny padded through the silent house. “Steve?”
He was home; she’d seen him come in about an hour ago. Jenny passed the guest room on the way to the garage, thinking he might be working on his motorcycle, when she abruptly backed up and entered the bedroom. There she found Steve sprawled barefoot, face down across the bed.
His cheeks were flushed with sleep and his features relaxed. He lay with one big hand fisted beneath his chin and one bent leg pulled up toward his chest. Jenny sighed. Not going to get any answers today. Turning to leave the room, she jumped at the sound of his sleepy drawl.
“What d’ya want, Jen?” He rolled to the side of the bed, scratched his head, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“I...it can wait,” she fumbled, feeling awkward. “Go back to sleep.”
He glanced at his watch. “Can’t. Got to be at Annie’s in an hour.”
She backed out of the room as he stood. Barefoot, jeans, and wearing a worn navy polo shirt, Steve suddenly seemed intimidating. This was a bad idea, like her mere presence with him in this bedroom was a step over a line she didn’t want to cross.
“Okay. Well...we can catch up later. Have fun tonight,” she tossed over her shoulder as she rushed down the hall to the kitchen.
Steve hurried after her and grabbed her wrist, just long enough to halt her flight and make her face him. “Wait a minute. What’s your hurry?”
“Ah...” Jenny shifted her weight from one leg to another. She folded her arms.
All of a sudden, this feels weird. I know things have been strained between us lately—not exactly sure why, I guess you’re mad I don’t like Annie, but I need a friend. I’ve got a problem and that’s what we do. I whine to you, and you come up with some sage brotherly advice to make me feel better. But this isn’t going to work. Something’s wrong. It doesn’t feel right and I can’t talk to you—not about this. And that makes me so unbelievably sad. I’ve gotta get out of here.
The words raced through her head in a giant whirlwind, yet she just couldn’t get them out. Jenny ducked her head and batted her eyes against hot tears.
Steve waited patiently, and she wished he’d look at something—anything—besides her. His waiting for an answer made her feel like a particularly ugly bug under a microscope, and it was hard to come up with a credible lie under such intense scrutiny. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore.
“I want a baby,” she blurted.
Well, that was tactful. Jenny peeked at him, sure he must be as shocked as she by her bald declaration.
Steve leaned back against the counter and crossed his legs at his ankles. Though he controlled his expression, he couldn’t conceal the glint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Isn’t that something Gabe should help you with?”
“That’s the problem; I don’t know how to tell him. I’ve never wanted kids. Before we got married, I told him I didn’t want children.”
“And now you do?”
Wincing, Jenny raised her head and nodded. “I know it’s not fair, but I’ve been obsessed with it for months. I tried to talk myself out of it.” She lifted slim shoulders. “But I still want a baby.”
“So have it.” This was her big problem? Wanting children seemed a natural marital progression, not cause for the misery lining Jenny’s face.
“I told him I didn’t want kids. It’s not fair to change the rules now.”
“Then don’t.”
“But I want a baby.”
“So why’re you telling me?” He tried to temper the impatience in his voice, but seriously, what did she expect him to do about it? “Gabe’s the one you should be talking to.”
“I can’t. He doesn’t want more children.”
“You don’t know that.” Although Steve suspected she was right. His buddy was pretty happy with life the way it was; Gabe probably wouldn’t welcome a change—especially not one of this magnitude. But he might. He adored Jenny, and if it was that important to her, he’d probably be willing to start over again. “Talk to him. Make him understand how important it is to you.”
“I can’t. He’d never understand.”
“Why not?”
She scowled and looked away. “Because he thinks I’m good. I... Oh, forget it, you wouldn’t understand.” She turned away and rushed toward the door.
Oh, no. Not tears. Jenny never cried. Damn it.
Steve clenched his jaw. Her issue was personal; he didn’t want to get involved. But she was upset. Jenny was his friend, and she’d come to him for help. She didn’t know that her problem was scoring his heart, like dozens of painful paper cuts.
The woman he loved wanted to celebrate her love for another man, her husband and his best friend, by having his baby. She wanted to create a beautiful new life with her husband. It shouldn’t hurt so much, but it did. It felt like somebody smashed his chest with a three-hundred pound sledgehammer and then left it over his heart to crush him. And she had no idea.
Taking a deep breath, Steve forced air into his lungs to push aside his pain and caught Jenny at the door. He wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulders and redirected her toward the couch in the family room.
“What wouldn’t I understand? I know you’re not perfect, but what’s your big faux pas?”
“You can’t tell anybody. Not another living soul.”
He held up his right hand as if being sworn in. “I swear.”
She studied him carefully, frowning as she sized him up. “When I was fourteen, I got pregnant. Michael’s my adopted brother—and my son.”
Chapter 20