Because he has to be holding something back. People get divorced all the time. They don’t stop living because their spouse becomes a money grubbing she-devil. A money grubbing she-devil with excellent bone structure and good taste in clothes, but a she-devil nonetheless.
His sigh is loud and long before he finally speaks. “Do you want children?”
“What? Did I enter a parallel universe? You won’t date me, but you want to discuss having children with me?”
“It’s the whole point, Ash. I can’t have children.”
He peels my arms from around him and starts marching away again. Not on my watch he won’t.
“That’s it?” I shout after him. “That’s the whole reason you’ve been avoiding me for the past year and are afraid to enter a relationship with me? Because you can’t have children? I call bullshit.”
He whirls around. “It’s not bullshit, Ash. I know you. You want the entire dream – a house with a white picket fence—”
“Ugh. Not white. Do you know how often you have to paint a fence when it’s white?”
“Be serious for once in your life, Ashlyn!”
Uh oh. He used my full name. He’s mad. Guess what? He may be mad, but I am downright pissed the eff off.
“Me be serious?” I pound my fist on my chest. “I’m not being serious? I’m trying to make light of the situation because if I don’t, I’m going to rip your ears clean off your big, fat head.”
“What are you talking about? Are you mad?”
“What was your first clue? The steam coming out of my ears?”
“How can you possibly be mad I can’t have children?”
“You idiot!” I scream. “I’m not mad you can’t have children. I’m sad for you. I’m sorry. I should have said so in the first place. Rowan, I’m sorry you can’t have children. There. That’s done. Moving on to scolding you for being a total nincompoop.”
“Nincompoop. Does anyone under the age of sixty use that word?”
“Yes. Me. Shut it. I’m talking now.”
He motions for me to carry on.
“One, it’s not up to you to decide we can’t be together because you can’t have children. A relationship is by definition between two people. By making this decision unilaterally, you’re implying I’m a dolt who can’t make her own choices.”
“I’m sorry, Ash. I didn’t mean you can’t make decisions for yourself.”
I shove my palm in his face. “I’m not done.”
“Of course, you’re not,” he mutters. I pretend not to hear him. I’m on a roll here.
“And, second, being unable to have children doesn’t mean you can’t have children.” I wrinkle my nose. Talk about confusing sentences. “What I mean to say is there are other options. Adoption being at the top of the list. A sperm donor is another option. I’m sure there are fertility treatments as well, but I need to research the subject.”
I mentally add ‘research infertility in men’ to my to-do list.
“You don’t get it, Ash. I want you to have everything you want including children of your own.”
“What if everything I want is standing in front of me being bullheaded?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers before walking away.
This time, I let him go. I need time to figure out how to convince him being sterile doesn’t mean he can’t be in a relationship. Idiot.