Page 86 of His Secret Wish

She tossed the unwelcome thought aside. Now was not the time to get into those kinds of semantics.

“I think we’re going to go.”

She spun around again. Drew was pointing toward the front door. Lea had her arms wrapped around one of his. She was smiling, but there was definitely an awkward edge to it.

Owen brushed past her. “Thanks for coming by.” He held out his hand. Drew shook it. Lea’s smile shifted to a little less awkward. “And if you have any questions, let me know, okay?”

“Will do.” Drew nodded and then grabbed Lea’s hand and led her down the hallway. The door clicked closed in the distance.

Owen remained still, his back to her. Her brain was trying to sift through all the information, all that had happened in the last week.

“I can’t believe you’re selling the house.” The whispered words slipped out of her mouth before she even realized she wanted to say them.

He spun around, his eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “What do you care what I do with the house?”

The words were meant to hurt, and they did. Like sharp little knives jabbed into her chest. She wanted to snap at him, but she held back. He was hurting, and she was the one who did it. It was understandable that he’d be upset and feel the need to lash out.

She pulled in a breath, let it out. “Can we sit down and talk?” She swept her hand toward the living room behind her.

His imitation of a statue was impressive, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her to screw off, and toss her out of the house. She held her breath.

After what felt like an eternity, he gave a curt nod and strode past her. She turned and followed him, not staring at his gorgeous ass. Kind of.

He sat in one of the wingback chairs, his hands clasped in his lap. It was his serious conversation pose. A trickle of disappointment ran through her. She’d been expecting him to sit on the sofa. Next to her. But this was fine.

She sat on the sofa, on the end closest to his chair. Her palms were sweaty—as long as the rest of her, thanks to her impromptu run—and she wiped them on her pants. She rubbed her lips together, her mouth and throat suddenly dry. The tension between them was a living, breathing thing, pressing against her skin.

He sighed, his mouth flattening. “I don’t have all day, Isabella.”

She resisted the urge to wince at his use of her full name. This was the second time in the last four days he’d used it, when before this he hadn’t used it since the day they met in elementary school.

Okay, this was it. Sink or swim time. With no life preserver. In shark-infested waters.

Taking another deep breath, this one for courage, she went for it. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now, but I just couldn’t seem to get the words out. You know how sometimes you know you need to say something, but the timing isn’t right, or the words won’t come, or you just don’t know what to say?” She knew she was babbling, some may even call it stalling, but she couldn’t seem to get her mouth to stop.

He gave her his patented cocked eyebrow look, although there was nothing teasing or playful about it this time. It was downright menacing.

“Sorry, I’ll get to the point.” Her lungs felt tight, her stomach roiling. But she needed to do this. “Do you remember the last time I was in the hospital, after the last miscarriage?”

His face paled, every muscle in his body tightening. “It’s branded in my brain. Along with the feeling of helplessness as I sat in the waiting room, praying to every god imaginable that I didn’t lose you, too.”

The ragged words wormed their way into her soul, her heart cracking clear in half at the confession. This was the first time he’d ever told her this, the first time he’d shared his pain with her. And while it hurt her on a level she couldn’t quite comprehend, it was also cathartic. While she hated he’d been suffering, at least she knew for certain she hadn’t been alone.

It was disappointing to think that, if they’d just been honest with each other about their feelings, their fears and insecurities, things might have turned out differently.

“What I didn’t tell you is that, before I went in for surgery, the doctor warned me if they couldn’t stop the bleeding, they’d have to do a hysterectomy.” The words were wobbly, but she was proud of herself for finally saying them out loud to him.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze even sharper. “Why?”

The question was unexpected, and she was confused. “Because I was going to bleed to death?” It came out more like a question, as in duh.

“No.” He shook his head, his eyebrows arrowing down in a fierce scowl. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There was an underlying accusatory tone to the words. Not that she could blame him. Not telling him was one of things that had caused the wedge between them.

She swallowed hard. “I was afraid.” This was so much harder to talk about here than it had been when she’d spilled her guts to Antonio earlier.

The lines on his face softened a bit, his eyes losing their icy sheen. “Of what?”

“I was afraid of disappointing you, of letting you know I had taken away our future. I know how badly you wanted a family, and I’d signed the paper that would kill that dream in one fell swoop.”