Two Weeks (The Baxter Family #5)(11)

She came to him, her coffee still on the desk. We don’t have time, she wanted to tell him. We’re getting older every month and nothing is helping. Look at all we’ve lost! But like every four weeks before this, she said none of that.

Instead she moved into his arms and put her cheek against his. “You’re right. We have time.”

He stroked her back with one hand and cradled her head with the other. “Our baby will come to us. In God’s timing, Lucy. Please.” He eased away and searched her face. “Believe. Okay?”

How could she tell him she’d stopped believing years ago? Not only in having a baby of their own, but in adopting. They’d tried everything and here they were. “Sometimes . . .” Her voice was broken, barely a whisper. “I try to remember what it was like in the beginning. When just you and me was enough.” She blinked back tears. “When we didn’t feel this . . . this terrible emptiness . . . every month.”

“Hey.” He framed her face with his hands. “You’re still enough. We’re still enough.”

Lucy lowered her gaze to the floor, to the place where their feet touched. Not for another minute could she pretend about this. With an effort that came from the most broken place in her heart, she shook her head. “No, Aaron.” She raised her eyes to him. “We’re not enough. A baby . . . it’s all we talk about. All we think about.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Probably because she was right, and by now he knew it. What could he say? Instead he exhaled and finally, fully, the sadness filled his eyes as well. “I don’t want you to feel that way.”

“I can’t help it.” She lifted her hand to his face and eased her thumb over his cheek. “We both do. It’s true, Aaron. You know it.”

“Lucy. I still believe.” He shrugged even as tears welled in his eyes. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I don’t know.” She took a few steps back and leaned against the wall again. “Maybe we could stop for a while. Give it a rest.”

Confusion clouded his eyes. “What? Us?”

“No.” A single tear fell on her cheek. “Of course not.” She sniffed. “Like the process. The diet and fertility drugs and doctor appointments.” She crossed his office and looked out his enormous picture window. All of Bloomington spread like a painting below them. After a few seconds she turned and faced him again. “Just be us. The way we used to be.”

For a while, Aaron only watched her, his eyes locked on hers. As if he wasn’t sure what to say or how to move forward. But then he came to her. He took her in his arms again and held her head to his chest. “Baby, if that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.” She could hear his heart beating hard. Like it was killing him to give the idea of having a baby a rest.

But maybe he would do it now. For her.

“Really?” She found his eyes once more.

“Yes.” He couldn’t hide the heartache in his expression, the way it narrowed his eyes and made his smile look sad. “I’ll let it go, Lucy. If that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “It is.” The desperate hurt in her heart swelled and filled her senses. Tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t . . . I can’t keep trying, Aaron. It’s killing me.”

“Shhh.” He rocked her and kissed the top of her head. “I understand. We’ll take a break. I promise.”

“I just want to love you.” Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she didn’t care. She brought her lips to his and kissed him. “I don’t want sex to be a science or a means to an end. I want it to be like it was in the beginning.”

“Truly. Madly. Deeply.” He breathed the words against the side of her face. “You and only you, Lucy.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes.” The words had been part of their vows. Truly. Madly. Deeply. The ones that defined them in the beginning, twelve long years ago when they stood in front of family and friends in Atlanta and promised forever to each other.

They were thirty-six now. Closer to forty than not. But still those words spoke straight to her soul. She opened her eyes and searched his. Then she kissed him again. “Thank you.”

“Is it okay . . . if I still have my mornings there? In the nursery?” He looked like he would give that up, too, for her.

If she were completely honest, her answer was no. She would’ve liked to find a couple two-by-fours and nail the nursery door shut. For good. But if he was willing to give their desperate efforts a rest, she was willing to let him have his Bible time near the crib. “Yes.” She brushed her nose against his. “If it doesn’t make things too hard for you.”

His look told her he understood. Praying and believing all while giving up the very efforts that might possibly make a difference. The moment grew deeper. “What happens in that room . . . that’s between God and me. Not you.” He kissed her. “I promise.”

“Okay.” She took a sharp breath and pulled away. “I have to get to work.”

“Right.” The rawness in his expression lingered. “Thanks for talking.”

She pressed her hand against her lower stomach. Her cramps were worse than usual. “I had to, Aaron. I was feeling like . . . we were living in separate universes.”