“No!” She burrowed deeper between my legs. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“Why are you apologising?”
“Because I can never give you a family!” Her tears grew louder, her breathing fast and chopped, instead of laboured and stubborn. “Because I can’t give you what you need.”
“What I need?”
“A family of your own, El. A son or daughter to replace—” Her sadness interrupted her. “I-I never thought I wanted that. I never believed—” She gulped harder. “I want it. So much.” Her face scrunched as yet more anguish found her. “I want it so, so much, and I can never have it.”
Fuck me.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Bending completely over her, I didn’t care if she was smothered. I had to hold her. Had to show her she didn’t need to hide her pain from me. I’d known she could see past my walls and read me better than anyone, but I hadn’t been prepared for her to totally understand me.
To know that family was what drove me.
Not money.
Not power.
Not revenge.
I was a simple man with simple goals and she saw me far, far too clearly.
And she wants that just as much as I do.
As fast as I’d gone from refusing a scenario where Pim would bear my child, now I couldn’t erase the image of her pregnant and beaming.
As I held her crying form, I finally understood what ate away at her. What she’d been harbouring, festering, hiding deep, deep down so I wouldn’t share her agony.
That fucking bastard, Alrik, had taken her past and her future. She’d walked away from his corpse, but she’d never truly walk away from his ghost—forever reminded of him thanks to her barrenness.
I clutched her harder, hugging far too tight but needing her to understand I got it. I knew exactly where her mind was and, although I didn’t have answers or fixes, I would be there for her no matter what.
“Pimlico…you need to talk to me.” Leaning up, I pried her face away from my lap with sturdy fingers. Holding her jaw so she had no choice but to look up, I murmured, “When did you find out?”
How long have you been lying to me, little mouse?
The hospital? The police? The check-ups?
That hurt worse than the terrible news of her infertility. The fact that she hadn’t trusted me. That she’d willingly withheld.
What else had she kept from me, believing it was for my own good?
“You lied to me,” I whispered. “You said the tests all came back fine.”
Her skin cast pale cream; her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Her gaze darted away before she found the courage to make eye contact and hold it. “I am healthy, so in a way, the tests were fine.” She inhaled hard, waiting for me to explode or berate her.
I merely grazed my thumb over her cheekbone and didn’t push her to continue. She had to find the best way to tell me, and I had to allow her time to do it.
Finally, she slouched, defeated and drained in my hold, spilling everything in a rush. “They said my insides are messed up from what was used on me. That the incorrect lubrications and unsanitary items have ruined any chance of conceiving. The scarring both physical and chemical…it’s too extensive.”
My analytical brain immediately chose disbelief as a rational argument. Pim was mine and she was perfect—therefore, there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with her. She wasn’t flawed or broken. She’d never been flawed or broken—no matter what sort of things she’d lived through.
Clutching her hand, I squeezed, partly for her benefit and partly for mine. “That’s one person’s conclusion. Doctors sometimes get it wrong. We’ll look for another opinion.”
She squeezed back, guilt and shame and apology all over her face. “The doctor in charge said the same thing. That was why she had someone else look at the results.”
“Fine, we’ll get a third.” I smirked, playing to my flaws, hoping to cheer her up. “You know my love of such a number.”
She smiled faintly, her panic attack finally fading from her gaze. “There was a third. Followed by yet another examination. They all said the same thing. I didn’t want to tell you this way. I’m sorry for keeping it from you, but I had no idea how to bring it up. How to destroy any hopes of having children in the future. How to hide the fact I went from a silly slave to a desperate mother all in one moment.”
Her head fell forward as if praying to the false idol that was me. “I’ve never felt anything like it before. When people say you know if you want children and you know if you don’t, I understand that now. I know one hundred percent I want them—only, my body no longer has that option so…I’ll come to terms with it. I’ll be fine.” She looked up through chocolate bangs. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Elder. I’m okay now. It’s not a big deal.”