“Have I mentioned lately how much I hate cancer?” She dropped her arm, aware that she was talking over him, but unable to stop herself. “I really, really, really fucking hate that disease. I’m so glad vampires don’t get it, because if you ever ended up with some version of it, I would seriously hate the universe for the rest of my immortal existence—”
“Mary, did you hear what I said?” He took her hand and put it back to his face. “I’m not going to ever think of this again. I’m not letting this come between us. It’s not going to be—”
“Emotions don’t work like that, Rhage. I’m a therapist, I should know.” She tried to smile, but was pretty sure a grimace came out instead. “We don’t get to pick how we feel—especially not about something as fundamental as having children. I mean, other than death and who you want to spend your life with, the whole kid thing is the very basis of existence.”
“But you can choose what you do about your emotions. That’s what you always say—you can choose how you react to your thoughts and your feelings.”
“Yes. Except somehow . . . that doesn’t seem like a workable plan at the moment.”
God, why don’t more people knee their therapists in the balls, she wondered. That sanctimonious pile of horseshit about “feel your feelings, but let your nurturing parent control your responses,” was really not helpful at a time like this—when you were on the verge of breaking down and your partner was the same, and there was a voice in the back of your head telling you that the two of you were never going to get through this because, Christ, who could?
Oh, and P.S., it was all her fault because she was the one with the lack of fertile eggs—
“Mary, look at me.”
When she finally did, she was surprised at the fierce expression on that beautiful face of his. “I refuse to let anything come between us, especially not some dumb-ass pipe dream about having a kid. Because that’s what it is. Wrath and Z? Yes, they have young with their mates, but they had to live with the reality that their shellans could die—for fuck’s sake, Wrath nearly did lose Beth. And Qhuinn? Yeah, sure, he’s not in love with Layla, but do not tell me he doesn’t care about that female with all his heart, considering what she’s carrying for the both of them.” He exhaled and sat back, bracing his palms against the floor. His eyes drifted to the headboard and roamed around as he traced the carvings. “When I think about it logically . . . as strong as this desire for young is . . .” He shifted his weight and prodded at the center of his chest. “. . . as much as I feel a need for a young specifically with you, what I know to be even more true is that I wouldn’t trade any child for you.”
“But I’m immortal, remember? You wouldn’t have to worry about me on the birthing bed like your brothers do.”
His eyes shot to hers. “Yes, but then I wasn’t ever going to see you again, Mary. That was the balance, remember? You wouldn’t have known that we’d ever been together . . . but I would have. For the rest of my life, I would have known that you were on the planet, alive and well . . . I just couldn’t ever see you, touch you, laugh with you again. And if I ran into you? You were going to drop dead on the spot.” He rubbed his face. “Your not being able to have young? It’s the reason we’re together. It’s not a curse, Mary . . . it’s a blessing. It’s what saved us.”
Mary blinked back tears. “Rhage . . . ”
“You know it’s true. You know that’s the balance.” He sat up and took her hands. “You know that’s why we have anything at all. You gave us our future precisely because you can’t bear my sons and daughters.”
As their eyes met once more and held, she started to say she was sorry again. But he wouldn’t have it. “No. I’m not hearing that, Mary. I’m serious. I’m not fucking hearing that. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. Not one thing.”
“But you want a—”
“Not more than I want you with me, by my side, living with me, loving with me.” His stare never left hers, the force of his conviction so strong, it made his eyes burn. “I’m serious, Mary. Now that I’m thinking about it . . . now that I’m running the math in my head? No. Life without you is a tragedy. Life without our young? That’s . . . well, it’s just a different path.”
Mary’s first instinct was to stay stuck in her own drama, the hamster wheel of regret and anger and sadness as seductive and potentially unrelenting as a black hole. But then she tried to reach past all that, tried to somehow get across to the other side.
What helped her to safety?
The love in his eyes.
As Rhage looked up at her, his stare was like the sun, a source of warmth and life and love. Even with all that she couldn’t give him? He still somehow managed to look at her as if everything that mattered to him . . . was exactly what he had in front of him.
And in that moment, Mary realized something.
Life didn’t have to be perfect . . . for true love to exist in it.
* * *
It was just a different path.
The strangest thing happened as those six words came out of Rhage’s mouth. It was as if a weight was lifted off of him, everything becoming light and kind of frothy, his heart starting to sing, his soul releasing its burden, the distance that had creeped in between him and his mate just poofing away like smoke clearing, like fog lifting, like a storm passing through and continuing on.
“Mary, did you hear what I said?” He took her hand and put it back to his face. “I’m not going to ever think of this again. I’m not letting this come between us. It’s not going to be—”
“Emotions don’t work like that, Rhage. I’m a therapist, I should know.” She tried to smile, but was pretty sure a grimace came out instead. “We don’t get to pick how we feel—especially not about something as fundamental as having children. I mean, other than death and who you want to spend your life with, the whole kid thing is the very basis of existence.”
“But you can choose what you do about your emotions. That’s what you always say—you can choose how you react to your thoughts and your feelings.”
“Yes. Except somehow . . . that doesn’t seem like a workable plan at the moment.”
God, why don’t more people knee their therapists in the balls, she wondered. That sanctimonious pile of horseshit about “feel your feelings, but let your nurturing parent control your responses,” was really not helpful at a time like this—when you were on the verge of breaking down and your partner was the same, and there was a voice in the back of your head telling you that the two of you were never going to get through this because, Christ, who could?
Oh, and P.S., it was all her fault because she was the one with the lack of fertile eggs—
“Mary, look at me.”
When she finally did, she was surprised at the fierce expression on that beautiful face of his. “I refuse to let anything come between us, especially not some dumb-ass pipe dream about having a kid. Because that’s what it is. Wrath and Z? Yes, they have young with their mates, but they had to live with the reality that their shellans could die—for fuck’s sake, Wrath nearly did lose Beth. And Qhuinn? Yeah, sure, he’s not in love with Layla, but do not tell me he doesn’t care about that female with all his heart, considering what she’s carrying for the both of them.” He exhaled and sat back, bracing his palms against the floor. His eyes drifted to the headboard and roamed around as he traced the carvings. “When I think about it logically . . . as strong as this desire for young is . . .” He shifted his weight and prodded at the center of his chest. “. . . as much as I feel a need for a young specifically with you, what I know to be even more true is that I wouldn’t trade any child for you.”
“But I’m immortal, remember? You wouldn’t have to worry about me on the birthing bed like your brothers do.”
His eyes shot to hers. “Yes, but then I wasn’t ever going to see you again, Mary. That was the balance, remember? You wouldn’t have known that we’d ever been together . . . but I would have. For the rest of my life, I would have known that you were on the planet, alive and well . . . I just couldn’t ever see you, touch you, laugh with you again. And if I ran into you? You were going to drop dead on the spot.” He rubbed his face. “Your not being able to have young? It’s the reason we’re together. It’s not a curse, Mary . . . it’s a blessing. It’s what saved us.”
Mary blinked back tears. “Rhage . . . ”
“You know it’s true. You know that’s the balance.” He sat up and took her hands. “You know that’s why we have anything at all. You gave us our future precisely because you can’t bear my sons and daughters.”
As their eyes met once more and held, she started to say she was sorry again. But he wouldn’t have it. “No. I’m not hearing that, Mary. I’m serious. I’m not fucking hearing that. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. Not one thing.”
“But you want a—”
“Not more than I want you with me, by my side, living with me, loving with me.” His stare never left hers, the force of his conviction so strong, it made his eyes burn. “I’m serious, Mary. Now that I’m thinking about it . . . now that I’m running the math in my head? No. Life without you is a tragedy. Life without our young? That’s . . . well, it’s just a different path.”
Mary’s first instinct was to stay stuck in her own drama, the hamster wheel of regret and anger and sadness as seductive and potentially unrelenting as a black hole. But then she tried to reach past all that, tried to somehow get across to the other side.
What helped her to safety?
The love in his eyes.
As Rhage looked up at her, his stare was like the sun, a source of warmth and life and love. Even with all that she couldn’t give him? He still somehow managed to look at her as if everything that mattered to him . . . was exactly what he had in front of him.
And in that moment, Mary realized something.
Life didn’t have to be perfect . . . for true love to exist in it.
* * *
It was just a different path.
The strangest thing happened as those six words came out of Rhage’s mouth. It was as if a weight was lifted off of him, everything becoming light and kind of frothy, his heart starting to sing, his soul releasing its burden, the distance that had creeped in between him and his mate just poofing away like smoke clearing, like fog lifting, like a storm passing through and continuing on.
