My Almost Ex (The Greene Family #2) - Piper Rayne Page 0,82

talk. Otherwise, I’m flying back home tomorrow morning. I understand it might take you a while to forgive me, maybe you never will, but I hope you do.” She gives me a sad smile, unshed tears in her eyes.

I go to stand, but she shoos me back down. “I’ll see myself out.” She walks toward the door but turns around before she leaves. “And Lucy, fertility treatments have improved since we were trying for Zane. I know after what you said in there what you’re worried about, but you’re strong enough. Look at you right now… you came here, faced your fears with Adam, and it all turned out okay. Who’s to say the same won’t happen again?”

She turns and I hear the door click shut a second later.

I hold the journal tightly and walk outside to the deck, sit at the patio table, and find my last entry.

I did it and I feel worse than I’ve ever felt in my life. I left Adam this morning with nothing more than a weak excuse about me not being happy. I’m such a chickenshit. But I know that my inability to give him a child would only tear us apart at some point. I saw what fertility treatments did to my parents’ marriage and my heart would never be able to handle that happening to Adam and me. I told myself when I drove away that I loved him enough to let him go. Even when I stopped at the base of the mountain and second-guessed myself. It took every ounce of willpower not to do a U-turn and run back into his arms. Adam’s suffered enough loss in his life after his mom’s death. And I’ve already taken a career involving his drawing and college football away from him. I couldn’t take away his chance at having his own family too. His words the night we decided to try to conceive still ring in my ear. How excited he was to be a dad and have a family of his own. We argued about whether it’d be a boy or girl and if it was a boy, whether he’d have the Greene football genes. He joked that we’d be the favorites because we’d give Grandma Ethel her first great-grandbaby.

God, I miss him so much my heart aches. But it’s better this way. I’d rather him hate me now than resent me in the years to come when all our spare rooms are empty. I know if I told him, he’d insist that we could be happy, but it would just be yet another thing I’ve taken from him. I’m tired of taking. I look at this as though I’m giving him a chance at the life he deserves and wants. Even if it’s killing me to do it, I have to stay strong.

This is my last journal entry because there’s nothing I want to write about anymore. I’m not going to depress myself more by staring at a blank page with a pen in my hand. So, wish me luck wherever life takes me.

I shut the book even though I want to read more. I roll over in my mind what I just read as I stare into the trees. I understand why I did it. The guilt that’s consumed me since I found out yesterday is greater than anything I’ve ever had to bear. Even losing my memory. I’m disappointing the person I love the most. Isn’t it normal to want to give my husband a child? To see him cry holding our baby for the first time? If I attack this journey of infertility, I have to prepare myself for disappointment because it just might not happen. But Adam is right—we need to fight for us, fight for our family. We’ve come way too far not to.

I’m so distracted with my thoughts that it takes me a few seconds to register the feeling of soft fur brushing along my ankles. I look down and find a puppy with a giant peony attached to its collar and a box that says, “Open me.”

“Where did you come from?” I laugh and pick up the puppy and look over my shoulder, not finding anyone.

Opening the box, I find my wedding ring nestled inside. It’s shiny and bright and looks brand new.

“Did I tell you about Cam’s dog?” Adam comes out of the house and leans against the railing in front of me. He glances at the journal on the table but