Page 211 of Halo

The room explodes with laughter as hands slap and pound the counter top. My wife looks up at me, her lips meeting mine in a sweet kiss.

“What’s with all the noise?” Lizzie walks into the room, the other kids filing in behind her.

“Yeah, is it time for presents?” Grady asks.

“That—” I grab my son, finger combing his blond waves—“sounds like a good idea, partner.”

The living room floor becomes a sea of wrapping paper as the kids tear through the gifts. Books, jewelry-making kits, and footed-pajamas are received with squeals and gratitude. But, of course, the damn Ramsdales have to give a gift that puts all of ours to shame.

“W-we’re going to see Vandal’s Way?” Grady stammers, staring at his VIP concert tickets.

Tatum chuckles. “Yep—and you’ll get to see Ethan again, and meet Madden and the rest of the band.”

For the first time all evening, my son is speechless.

After Ethan Ramsdale’s band brought on a new lead singer, Madden Ryker, they had a single hit number one in the UK six months later. They quickly went from playing dingy bars to selling out arenas in what felt like overnight. Grady met Ethan last year for Thanksgiving, and ever since, my son is their most loyal fan.

“Do you think we could take a picture together?” Grady asks shyly.

“Of course, buddy!” Tatum says.

“We can get you a t-shirt, too,” Leah adds.

Grady adjusts his glasses, taking a few deep breaths. The corners of his mouth curl slowly as he blinks back tears. “Thank you.”

Tatum beams. “You bet, kiddo.”

“Let’s put these in a safe spot, partner.” Taking his tickets, I immediately head to our study, placing them inside a marked folder before slipping them into the desk.

As I turn to leave, I step on one of Angus’s chew toys and nearly take myself out.

Damn dog …

Standing up, I notice some shredded paper in the recycle bin. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I try to match the edges together. Southeast Houston Fertility Specialist …

Oh no …

Over the past year, Leah and I have been exploring options to expand our family. We fertilized her harvested eggs only to learn that very few were viable. Leah, my beautiful, ever-optimistic wife, struggled to be hopeful. Still, we decided to give surrogacy a chance. We met Trina in August. She was kind, compassionate, and everything we could have hoped for. When she miscarried at seven weeks, it devastated all of us. Last month, we agreed to try one more time as a Christmas present to ourselves.

Just one more time.

Did something happen?

“Hey, Cowboy, I—” Leah freezes, staring at my hands. “What are you doing?”

I hold up the shredded paper. I briefly glance up at her before tossing it back into the bin.

“It came in the mail yesterday.” She cautiously steps forward. “I didn’t want to ruin tonight before it could happen.”

I swallow thickly. “Is it about Trina?”

Leah slowly nods.

“She backed out, didn’t she?”

Leah sighs. “She did … and who can blame her, Nick? It was our baby, but … she went through the loss, too.”

I stand, dragging my hand across my chin. I’m terrified to look at my wife right now because once again, life has taken something from her, and I can’t stop it.