“But I’d never ask you to stop working either.”
“I know that too.”
“All I’m sayin’ is that you’re workin’ too much.”
“I could say the same thing about you.” Sal pulls her legs into her small frame and snuggles into him. “Besides, work helps.”
Luke winces. He knows what she means. He’s been using his work, his music to bury his own feelings about their inability to get pregnant. So it’s no surprise Sal’s doing the same.
“Ten months.” Sal’s soft voice erupts. The words are a thorn. “We’ve been trying for ten months, Luke. After a year we’re infertile.” She bites her lip and looks up at him. “Maybe it’s time to start thinking about other options?”
His heart clenches at the hope in her eyes. While Luke wants a baby as much Sal does, right now, other options are not an option. At least not for him. After every emotional and physically ravaging thing Sal’s been through in the last year, he won’t put her through anything else. He doesn’t want her to. Maybe in a few years, but not now.
“There ain’t no hurry,” he says in a quiet voice. “We can go slow. We’re young. Healthy.”
Sal laughs bitterly. “I know I sound crazy. I just ... I didn’t think it would be this hard when everything else has been so ...” Her green eyes fill with tears. She shakes her head, her voice a regretful rasp. “I’m so sorry, Luke. I want to give you so much and I just feel like a failure. Like we missed our shot. Like Henry was it and—”
“Hey,” he says, his chest aching to the point of pain, knowing how much guilt Sal feels for not remembering the baby she carried for four months. He turns toward her, taking her in his arms, determined not to let her blame herself.
“Don’t you apologize. Never for that, you hear me?” His eyes tracing her sorrowful gaze, Luke gently wipes a tear from her cheek. “It ain’t your fault. I don’t need a baby, Sal, I need you.” He gathers her hand in his. “You are the most important piece of my world, darlin’. I don’t spin without you in it.”
Sal curls against him, burying her face in his chest. “You always know the right thing to say.”
Luke swallows, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders. He hopes so. It hurts him too. All the waiting, then the hope, the heartbreak. But Luke pushes aside his own pain, wanting to be strong for Sal. To show her that while it hurts something fierce, it won’t break them or their love. Never.
“Don’t worry, you hear me?”
Sal lifts her head. Her eyes glitter with unshed tears. But she nods and smiles soft, cupping the side of his face. “I’ll try.”
Luke kisses her fiercely. Sal kisses him back, just as fierce. He holds her tight and close, her very form precious, her heartbeat a song against his. A melody only Sal can write.