weary I didn’t even recognize it as my own. “This isn’t a man who wants one or two kids, Sloan. He came from a huge family. You know what he told me the other day?” Bitterness rose in my chest. “He said he wants a whole baseball team of kids. It’s all he wants. And it’s the one thing I can’t give him. Not really. Not in any way that’s close to what he has planned for himself.”
I bit the inside of my cheek until it hurt and I looked away from her. “He couldn’t sit with me in the bathroom and watch the little pink line show up on the stick or put his hand to my belly and feel his baby kicking. He wouldn’t be able to come with me to ultrasounds or hold my hand while I push. This is a man who wants to be a daddy, Sloan. And I’m never going to be a mommy. It just is what it is.”
Her bottom lip trembled and she looked like she might start sobbing.
Sloan was always the emotional one. This was why I didn’t want to tell her about it. Now it was going to cast a shadow on what should have been a carefree time for her before her wedding. I should have never said anything. It was selfish of me.
I sighed. “Sloan, you’re a romantic. You have some vision in your head of us being pregnant together and the four of us going on vacations and pushing jogging strollers around the block. You’ll just have to adjust.”
She swiped at her eyes with her thumb. “I hate this. I hate that you have to give up so much.”
“I’m not. Don’t think about what I’m giving up. Think about what I’m getting back. The thought of never having to have another period for the rest of my life makes me want to fucking cry from happiness. I’m so ready to be done.”
She looked so miserable you’d think she was having the hysterectomy. I hated it and I loved her for it.
I put my hands on her arms. “You know what I really need? I just need you to listen and support me. That’s it. Tell me you can do that.”
Please. Be my friend. I need you.
She nodded, closed the space between us, and hugged me. The familiar smell of her honeysuckle perfume—of my best friend—grounded me, and I realized how hard it had been not being able to talk to her about it, or tell her how Josh made me feel.
“Sloan?” I said after a moment, my chin over her shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“I TP’d your house with Josh.”
She sniffled. “I know.”
I laughed a little and squeezed my eyes shut.
“The Josh thing would have been so cool,” she whispered into my ear.
It would have been cool. But men like Josh weren’t for me anymore. They’d never be for me again. Men who wanted pregnant wives and big families, sons that looked like their dads—these men weren’t the ones I could choose from. I could have Tylers. I could have more dogs. A bigger career without kids to distract me. I could have more disposable income and a clean house without crayon on the walls and dirty diapers to change. I could be the cool aunt.
But I couldn’t have children.
And I could never, ever, have Josh.
THIRTEEN
Josh
Sloan and Brandon had said goodbye to their guests. Just Kristen and I stayed behind fulfilling our maid-of-honor and best-man duties helping them load the finished wedding favors and invitations into Brandon’s truck. Kristen, Sloan, and I stood on the patio watching the busboys blow out candles and clear the table while Brandon signed the charge draft.
“Good party,” Kristen said to Sloan. “We got it all done.”
Brandon handed the check to the server and came up behind his fiancée, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Sloan smiled, leaning into the kiss he put on her cheek.
Kristen got out her phone, and I watched her pull up the Uber app.
“Want to go get something to eat before we go home?” I asked her, hoping she’d go for it.
We’d been working on our projects for the last three hours, so it had been a while since we ate dinner, but my invite was just an excuse to stay out with her because I wasn’t staying the night tonight.
Or any other, probably ever again.
The backyard intruder had been apprehended. Some kid from the neighborhood, fucking around in people’s yards. I hadn’t told her. I needed to, but I just