The Truth About Ever After (19 page)

“You
should get on it,” she said, taking a sip of her espresso.
 
I noted that she did not apologize for
her name mistake. “I was just reading an article, and it said women who are
married for more than three years before they have children are fifty percent
less likely to get pregnant than women who conceive in the first two years.”

I
stared at her. That couldn’t be true, could it? She had to be making that up,
just stirring the pot.

“Beth
was so relieved to get pregnant when she did,” Sarah was saying. “Did you know
she had two tubal pregnancies first?”

I
winced. I was no fan of Beth, but even without my recent experiences, I
wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“And
you know what they say about getting pregnant after losing a baby,” Sarah said.
I felt my breath catch, turning my head so I was looking at her straight on.

“What?”
I asked, trying to make my voice unconcerned. “What do they say?”

“Just
that the longer it takes to get pregnant, the less likely you’ll keep the
baby.”

My
insides seemed to curl up and freeze. Could that be true?

“Beth
figures she was really lucky, what with getting pregnant only two months after
the last failure.” I hated the way she said that word—failure. Like the
baby had done something wrong. “And look at her now, eight months along and big
as a house.” Sarah giggled. “Don’t worry, she has been told she better lose the
baby weight extremely quickly if she wants to be a bridesmaid.”

I
stood up suddenly, practically knocking over my chair. “I better go check on
Jen,” I said, my voice tight. “I’ll be right back.”

As
I headed to the ladies’ room, I tried to turn my thoughts to my sister-in-law,
but it was just no good. Sarah’s words circled around and around in my head, as
if on a loop, blocking out everything else.

Chapter Nineteen

I
could find no information, absolutely nothing, to back up Sarah’s
claims—and I looked. I looked for three days straight, until I was
finally convinced that there was not any article or anecdote anywhere on the
entire Internet to prove her stupid conjectures.

But
I still couldn’t shake the belief that I was messing up, majorly ruining my
chances, by waiting. It had only been three weeks since the miscarriage, and
the doctor had said I needed to wait at least a month. But surely I should have
some kind of plan already in action for the day we could start trying again.

I
spent the next week researching absolutely everything I could about fertility.
Apparently there were all kinds of things I could be doing now to better my
chances of getting pregnant. From herbs to exercises, even acupuncture. I made
a list of all of them, printing out articles and highlighting the things I
wanted to try.

When
it had been a full month since the miscarriage, I decided it was time to get
the ball rolling. The heavy weight in my chest whenever I thought about the
baby I had lost had not dissipated much, but it was now laced with a manic kind
of fear. Somehow I just knew that I couldn’t wait, not this time. I needed to
get pregnant again. Wouldn’t that be the best way to make this terrible feeling
go away?

A
little voice in the back of my head told me I was being ridiculous, maybe even
crazy, but I ignored it. I needed this.

I
got home from work earlier than Eric that night, and decided the best thing to
do would be to seduce my husband. It had been more than a month since we’d last
had sex, the longest dry spell we’d ever had. I knew he was trying to respect
me and the trauma I was going through,
but I’d had enough of
that. How could I get pregnant again if he wouldn’t touch me? No, we definitely
had to put an end to it. I would talk to Eric about the baby tonight, and hopefully
he’d be willing to give it a try.

I
made dinner, strip steaks and potatoes, Eric’s favorite meal. While the steaks
marinated, I got myself ready. I went all out—big hair, shaved legs,
makeup, and perfume. I finished my look off with a little red dress that I knew
Eric loved on me. When I was ready, I headed back to the kitchen to put the
steaks in the broiler and set the table, turning on the radio to some mood
music.

“Wow,”
Eric said. I spun around and saw him standing in the doorway to the dining
room. I must not have heard him come in over the noise from the radio. “You
look amazing,” he said, staring at me. “What’s the occasion?”

I
looked down shyly, feeling a blush creep up to my cheeks. I had never been very
good at this. Everything with
me and Eric
was usually
so… natural.

You can do this, Kiki
, I told myself. I looked up at him and
smiled. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” I said. “I miss you.”

His
face visibly softened. “I’ve missed you too,
Kiks
,”
he said.

Suddenly,
I was rushing forward, Eric enfolding me in his arms. It had been so long since
we’d shared a moment free from sadness. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against his
chest. “I know it’s taking me a long time to get over it—”

“Don’t
apologize,” he said. “I’m right
there
with you, babe.”

“Yeah?”
I looked up at him, smiling.

“Of
course,” he said, his face still serious. “It was a terrible loss, Kiki. Don’t
let anything make you feel like you need to get over it right away, okay?”

I
nodded, feeling a lump in my throat.

“Let’s
just have a nice night,” he said, finally smiling. “It smells great in here.
And you really do look beautiful.”

I
poured Eric a glass of wine and he helped me to finish up dinner. As we sat
down to eat, I thought about what I needed to do to convince him that we were
ready to be intimate again. Surely, I was off to a good start. He was in an
obvious good mood.

We
avoided any stressful or negative topics while we ate. No mention was made of
Jen or
Matt,
no work talk passed our lips. Instead, we
discussed an old favorite topic—the epic sailing trip we would one day
take.

“Maybe
we shouldn’t do the East Coast after all,” Eric said, sipping his wine. “We
could do the Great Lakes, instead. We could go all the way around to Chicago,
just you and me, out on our little boat. What do you think?”

“The
Great Lakes wouldn’t give us palm trees though,” I pointed out. “I thought half
the point was that we would see new places and end up in Florida. Tropical
breezes and palm trees as far as the eye can see.”

Eric
grinned at me. “Good point. Well, what if we said goodbye to the states
completely? We could rent a boat in Florida and make our way to the Bahamas. We
could island-hop, Kiki.”

“
Oooh
,” I whispered, intrigued.

Once
we had finished our meal, I started to clean up the dishes, but Eric stopped
me.

“Leave
them,” he said. “Come sit with me.”

I
happily perched myself on his lap, my favorite place to sit. He wrapped his
arms around me and talked of the Bahamas, painting a beautiful picture of what
we could see and do there.

“I’m
sold,” I told him, resting my head on his chest. “I think we have a winner.”

“Maybe
we could do that this summer,” he said, pulling back a little to look me in the
eye. “It might be really good for us, to get away and just be on our own, you
know?”

I
frowned. I had every intention of being pregnant this summer, not out on a boat
with Eric in the middle of the Caribbean. Because I wasn’t sure how to respond,
I kissed him lightly instead.

“
Mmm
,” he murmured against my mouth, pulling me closer. “I
really have missed you.”

“I’ve
missed you too, Eric,” I said, looking him straight in the face, hoping my
meaning was clear.

“Have
you?” His voice was hoarse. “Do you… Do you think you’re ready?”

I
nodded. “I know I am.”

He
looked conflicted. “
Kiks
, I know how hard this has
been for you. I don’t want to push you or rush you—”

I
silenced him with a kiss. “Please, Eric,” I whispered.

In
one swift motion he had picked me up in his arms and was carrying me into the
bedroom. I could feel my heart beating fast, really fast. All thoughts of a
baby had slipped from my mind, replaced completely with Eric. It was like I
hadn’t realized how much I had missed being close to him until now. Love and
desire were crashing over me, overwhelming me.

No
sooner had we reached the bedroom than Eric’s cell phone rang loudly in his
pocket. Never one to be delayed at this point in the game, I assumed Eric would
ignore it, and was thus very surprised when he swore loudly instead.

“Sorry,
Kiki,” he said, setting my feet on the carpet. He looked at me, his eyes dark.
“You have no idea how sorry. But I have to take this.”

“You
do? Now?”

Eric
laughed at my incredulous expression. The phone stopped ringing. “It will be
fast, I promise. I was supposed to call the office with some numbers when I got
home. Stuff I left on my computer here. They’re waiting on me.” He winked at
me. “For some reason the call completely slipped my mind as soon as I entered
this condo and saw my beautiful wife.”

I
smiled at him, appeased. “Fine. But you better hurry.”

“I
will,” he promised, pulling out his phone. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Why
don’t you get more comfortable?”

 
I laughed as he walked out. “Miller?” I
heard him say. “Sorry, man, I got delayed. The stuff’s on my desktop; let me
just get to the office here…”

His
voice faded away and I flopped back on the bed, feeling happier than I had in a
long time. I decided I would change into a nightie.
That blue one
, I thought to myself.
Eric likes that one.

Five
minutes later I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I had brushed my
teeth, fixed my makeup, and changed. Now all I needed was my husband.

“Kiki,
what is all this stuff?”

I
looked up and saw Eric standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He was holding a
stack of papers in his hands.

“What?”
I asked, way too far away to make out what he had.

“Are
these yours?” He wasn’t looking at
me,
he was staring
down at the papers with an incredulous expression on his face. “
One hundred and one ways to increase
fertility
?
What to Eat When You’re
Ready to be Expecting
?”

He
looked up at me, his face hard. “Are these yours?”

“Yes,”
I said, feeling guilty for some reason. What had I done wrong? I must have left
my research in the office, but I didn’t see why Eric should seem so bothered by
it.

“Do
you want to get pregnant again?”

“I’ve
been thinking about it,” I said, my voice small. Eric glared at me and it
struck me that he was really mad.

“You
didn’t think we should discuss it first?”

I
stared at him. Crap.

“I
don’t believe you,” he said, throwing the papers down on the dresser. “I
seriously do not believe you.”

“Eric—”

“Is
that what tonight was? You were going to try to get me into bed so you could
get pregnant again? Without even discussing it with me?”

“No!”
I cried, feeling close to tears. “I mean, yes, I did think maybe we could try
again tonight.” His face looked thunderous. “But I was going to talk to you
about it first!”

He
looked at me, lying there in the bed, and snorted. “Yeah? When were we
gonna
talk, exactly?”

“I’m
sorry,” I said, the tears coming now. I could see how this would look to him
and he was totally right to be angry. “Eric, I really was planning to talk to
you about it. But then you started kissing me, and you were so sweet and
wonderful. It slipped my mind—”

“Slipped
your mind?” he yelled. “It slipped your mind?”

“I
didn’t mean it like that,” I cried. “I just meant, you know, you distracted me.
I stopped thinking about babies and started thinking about you. About wanting
you.”

“You
know what, Kiki? I have a really hard time believing that’s true.”

“Eric,”
I gasped. He had never called me a liar before, not ever. We were always honest
with each other.

He
pointed at the papers on the dresser. “That shit is insane, Kiki,” he said, his
voice cold, derisive. “It’s only been a month. A month. We are not ready for
this, not by a long shot.”

“I’m
sorry,” I whispered again, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t believe
that everything had gone so wrong so quickly. How stupid could I possibly be?

He
waved his hands as if to dismiss me. “You know what, I have a lot of work I
should be doing.”

“No,”
I said, sitting up on my knees. “Eric, please. Come to bed. We can talk about
this—”