Page 21 of Wish For Me

“I’m fine.”

I laugh softly, the sound a little sad. “Then you’re doing better than me. I love that kid, but I swear to god, it hurts to see the three of them together sometimes. Does that make me an asshole?”

She nestles into my side, sighing. “I hope not, because I feel the same way.”

We just stand like that for a long moment, leaning against each other. We made a pact to not talk about this until after Christmas and the wedding, but it’s impossible to ignore the looming date on our calendar—an appointment with a fertility doctor early in the new year.

There are some tough decisions in our future.

“We’ll figure it out,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “One way or another.”

It’s become something of a mantra. How many times have I told her those exact same words? Usually when she’s upset over the arrival of yet another unwanted period. I’ve never known what it was like to be truly helpless until I saw Alex crying over a hurt that I couldn’t make better for her.

The words are trite. Useless. But they’re also all we have to hold on to.

We’ll figure it out, one way or another.

I just wish it didn’t have to be so damn hard. And I wish that the idea of her getting pregnant wasn’t almost as scary as the idea of never seeing another plus sign on a test again.

Twice now she’s taken that test and we’ve felt the overwhelming joy of seeing a positive result. And twice now, we’ve sat in a cold doctor’s office, gripping each other’s hands, while the doctor explained in gentle tones about chemical pregnancies and early miscarriages. But Alex is young and healthy, she told us. There was no reason to think we couldn’t get pregnant again.

No reason to think that until it didn’t happen. Until month after month went by and we were no closer to a viable pregnancy.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say again. But I’m pretty sure I’m the one I’m trying to convince. “One way or another.”

“You know what would make me feel better?” she asks. “If George was here.”

“Then you’re in luck, because the doggy hotel sent me a video this afternoon.” I pull out my phone and open the message from the kennel where our dog, George, is staying while we’re away.

“Oh, he’s playing with the other dogs!” Alex says. “That makes me happy. I thought he’d be shy and miss us the whole time.”

“Hopefully he’ll only miss us part of the time.”

“We should get back to work,” she says, and I wince at how tired she sounds. “You drop off this booze and I’ll go get—”

“You’ll come with me,” I say, leaning down to pick up the box.

“Why? There are about a million other things to do.”

“Too bad.” I balance the box in one arm so I can take her hand with the other. “We’ll get to everything, but we’re going to get to it together.” I give her hand a squeeze and shoot her a sheepish smile. “Not quite ready to let go of you yet.”

She must not be ready either, because she squeezes my hand back. And even though I know she has a to-do list as long as my arm, she doesn’t let go.

* * *

“A little higher,”Alex instructs forty-five minutes later. The string of lights tugs in my hand as her brother lifts his end higher up the tree.

“My side or Nix’s side?” I ask.

“Nix,” Leo calls from Alex’s side. “A couple more inches.”

“My arm isn’t going much higher than this,” Nix calls.

Alex steps back to take in the overall look and I hear Nix grumble about his arm hurting. But finally she gives the go-ahead to secure our lights in place.

I climb off my ladder and go over to join her and Leo. “It looks great,” Leo is saying “Seriously.”

“I guess I’m just nitpicking at this point, huh?” She looks up at me with a sheepish smile. “Is it weird that I feel nervous?”