Obstetrics and Gynecology. He’d talked to them about in vitro and surrogacy, and he’d had fertility testing done.
I put a shaky hand to my mouth, and tears began to blur my eyes.
I pored over his test results. Josh was a breeding machine. Strong swimmers and an impressive sperm count. He’d circled this and put a winking smiley face next to it and I snorted.
He’d outlined the clinic’s high success rates—higher than the national average—and he had gotten signed personal testimonials from previous patients, women like me who used a surrogate. Letter after letter of encouragement, addressed to me.
The next page was a complete breakdown on the cost of in vitro and information on Josh’s health insurance and what it covered. His insurance was good. It covered the first round of IVF at 100 percent.
He even had a small business plan. He proposed selling doghouses that he would build. The extra income would raise enough money for the second round of in vitro in about three months.
The next section was filled with printouts from the Department of International Adoptions. Notes scrawled in Josh’s handwriting said Brazil just opened up. He broke down the process, timeline, and costs right down to travel expenses and court fees.
I flipped past a sleeve full of brochures to a page on getting licensed for foster care. He’d already gone through the background check, and he enclosed a form for me, along with a series of available dates for foster care orientation classes and in-home inspections.
Was this what he’d been doing? This must have taken him weeks.
My chin quivered.
Somehow, seeing it all down on paper, knowing we’d be in it together, it didn’t feel so hopeless. It felt like something that we could do. Something that might actually work.
Something possible.
The last page had an envelope taped to it. I pried it open with trembling hands, my throat getting tight.
I know what the journey will look like, Kristen. I’m ready to take this on. I love you and I can’t wait to tell you the best part…Just say okay.
I dropped the letter and put my face into my hands and sobbed like I’d never sobbed in my life.
He’d done all this for me. Josh looked infertility dead in the eye, and his choice was still me.
He never gave up.
All this time, no matter how hard I rejected him or how difficult I made it, he never walked away from me. He just changed strategies. And I knew if this one didn’t work he’d try another. And another. And another.
He’d never stop trying until I gave in.
And Sloan—she knew. She knew this was here, waiting for me. That’s why she’d made me leave. They’d conspired to do this.
In her grief, when she needed me the most, when she couldn’t even feed or wash herself, she was willing to give me up in the hopes of forcing my hand because she wanted this for me. She wanted me to be happy.
Because that’s how much she loves me. She loves me as much as Josh does.
They thought I was worth it.
I still didn’t believe it. I might never truly believe it.
But they did.
Something inside of me broke in that moment. I gave up. I no longer had the strength to stay away from him. I just couldn’t do it anymore—there wasn’t any reason to. His eyes were open.
Stuntman pressed against my side, looking up at me. I wiped my eyes with the top of my shirt. “I’m gonna bring your daddy home.”
His tongue stuck out of the front of his mouth, and he looked like he was smiling. I picked up my phone and sent Josh a text for the first time in weeks.
Kristen: Okay.
I waited, looking at my phone with my heart in my throat. The doorbell rang.
I laughed, leaping off the sofa, tears pouring down my cheeks. Of course he was waiting for me. That’s all Josh ever did.
He’d never have to do it again.
I threw open the door. He stood on the porch beaming with his dimples and his messy cowlick hair. I dove into his arms, and his cedar scent crashed into me, the familiar shape of his body wrapped around mine, instantly making me whole. He laughed with relief and lifted me off the ground, holding me so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”
Josh is mine.
The happiness was almost too much. And then just as deeply, as it settled in that my struggle had all been in vain, I felt the loss