“What?”
“I have no idea where your head is on this. But your sperm count today is sitting right at twenty-two million. With time, I’d expect that number to climb well within normal range. Allowing there are no rips or tears—which I doubt or you’d have swelling—I can remove the blockage and send you on your merry way. Or if you want, I can do a vasectomy.”
Dizziness slammed into him. The walls rippled and Bastian closed his eyes to prevent falling off the table. Everything rushed at him with hurricane speed. It took three tries to get his tongue to form words. “How can that be?”
“You never had more testing, so again, I’m guessing. Your testes are fine, functioning normally from what I can tell, and the epididymis appears okay. Live sperm were blocked and reabsorbed by your body, which over the years, led to less active sperm production. Now the gates are open. Your body should kick in and up that number in a matter of months.”
Heart thudding like a herd of stampeding cattle, Bastian gaped at him. “No integrity degradation?”
“Not significant or irreversible that I can see.”
“You’re sure?”
Dale handed him the chart. The form wavered and he forced himself to focus. There in black and white were numbers he’d prayed for years ago and had given up ever seeing. Motility, morphology and concentration—all low but within normal ranges.
His nose was running and he sniffed. A tissue landed on the chart.
“You’ve gone through the grieving process of being sterile and maybe you want it that way at this point. Most of my vasectomy patients are about your age. They either don’t want any more kids or are comfortable with never having any. Just because you can, doesn’t always mean you should or even want to.”
Bastian balled the damp tissue in a tight fist and opened his mouth but words wouldn’t come.
Dale clapped him on the knee. “Don’t make any decisions right now but you need to be on top of this. I want to work you in as soon as I can. No more orgasms, alone or with your girl, until this is done. Go home, talk it out, figure out what you want. Call me if anything gets worse.”
Bastian nodded and kept it together, clasping Dale’s hand with a steady grip. The vaguely familiar halls led him to the elevators and down four floors. On automatic, he’d punched the ER button and the sudden noise level shocked him. Skirting the waiting room, he caught a glimpse behind the admissions counter. Brett and Rav hurried between trauma rooms. The wide doors opened and he walked out without a backward glance. He squinted into the light and headed toward the far parking lot. Not until he was inside, clutching the sun-heated leather of the steering wheel, did he give in and let his body shake.
Everything welled inside him, threatening to overflow, but he choked it back, swallowed it down. His gut cramped. He’d been given a gift, a painful, terrifying, unexpected gift. He could become a father. But the woman he loved didn’t want children. Charlie had to get off the Pill. It was wrecking her body. He had to let go of one dream in order to keep another.
Heat rippled the air above the vehicle hood, distorting his vision. Wasn’t that all this was, a distortion of his own making? It wasn’t an issue unless he made it one. Bastian drew deep, deliberate breaths. He’d already accepted once that he’d never be a father, he could do it again. It was the best thing for what he wanted in his future. Charlie.
He pulled his cell from his pocket and the flashing icon solidified his resolve. Charlie had called. She was so close to saying yes, he could feel it. He wouldn’t give her a reason to say no. It wasn’t a hard decision at all.
The tones of his cell keypad seemed too loud in the heavy stillness. Dale answered on the first ring.
“Dale, it’s Bastian. I don’t need time. You’re right. I’ve already made peace with that part of my life. Do the vasectomy. And the sooner, the better. I want to get married.”
“All right then. I’m still in my office and it looks like I can work you in this week.”
“Do it.” Bastian blew a breath away, letting calm settle.
“Scheduled, Friday at eight.”
“Okay.” Bastian clacked the phone shut and keyed the engine. It was done.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlie nibbled her lip and watched the driveway. “You have no idea?”
Caz shook his head. “Nope. He was gone when I got up and his boxing gloves are still in the mudroom. Maybe he got called in.”
“No, he traded to ha—he’s home!” Charlie tamped down her nerves and waited until Bastian was walking up the sidewalk before turning. “Can you disappear for a bit?”
Caz looked at her with a queasy expression. “You’re not gonna get naked and funky on the couch, are ya? I’d really hate to land in a wet spot when I sit down.”
“Boo, go,” she snarled and pointed toward the back. “If he ever gets around to making a wet spot, I’ll make sure you’re far away, okay?”
“Deal. I need to hit the grocery store anyway.” He unfolded his long frame from the chair and lowered his sunglasses from his head. “Dinner’s on me. I’m making you a birthday feast using Luci’s recipes.”
“Enchiladas?”
“Nope. Chile relleno and fajitas.”
Her stomach growled. “If you truly love me, there had better be guacamole.”
“Littlebit, if I thought I could handle you in bed, I’d lock Sebastian in a closet and smother us both in guac.” Caz dropped a loud smack on her forehead. “Back in an hour. Be hungry. Wait, this is you. You’re always hungry for Mexican food.” He grabbed his keys from the side table and lumbered into the hall. In a few seconds, the veranda door closed with a soft thud.
The front door creaked slightly as Bastian entered the foyer. Charlie opened her mouth but caught herself before speaking. He looked like shit. He seemed dazed and surprised to see her.
“Charlie! You’re early. You’re going to ruin Boo’s surprise.”
“No, he told me, fajitas. He just went to the store. What’s wrong? You look awful.”
Bastian tossed his keys into a bowl on the sideboard and shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much. I thought you’d call last night. Didn’t you like your present?”
She stepped toward him with her stomach rolling. Sunlight caught the platinum as she held up her wrist. “I love it. Thank you.”
He searched her face, then smiled a weak smile and stroked her cheek. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s everything. All those paper chains? How did you do that?”
“I didn’t. I had the pediatric ward working on it. They love to keep the kids busy and not thinking about shots and pain. I got a bunch of exhausted doctors to help out, so if you can’t read some, that’s why. Boo and your mom linked them all and hung them up while we were at the prom. I just wanted…I wanted to make you happy.”
“You do,” she whispered. Too many words filled her mouth and too many feelings tossed in her belly. She let none loose but stepped to him, sliding her arms around his shoulders. He gripped her, pulling her tight. The fierceness in his hug shocked her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Bastian should never lie. It curdled the cream in his normally smooth voice. Charlie scoured his face. “You’re lying.”
“Just let it go, okay?” He looked away, turning his eyes from her scrutiny.
She didn’t need to see his eyes. His lips were pale and his eyes shadowed. An unnatural stiffness exuded from him, as if he was afraid to move too suddenly or he’d splinter apart. Caz’s overdose had floored him. His divorce had shattered him. His mother’s death had crushed him. Whatever had happened today had the same devastating effect. Fear danced along her spine.
“Something bad happened. Tell me.”
His brows drew low and tight. “Some things are private. I don’t go poking around your personal business.”
“Excuse me?” She made her face deliberately wide-eyed. “How many times have you stuck your figurative nose in my uterus?”
His shoulders drooped. “Fine. Uh, last night…I masturbated and it hurt, a lot. I went to see a friend, a urologist, to get things checked out. Things are…not right.”
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Her hands went to his hips, needing to keep him close as dread raced in. “Are you in pain?”
“No. I’m all right, right now.”
Where was the jazz in his voice? Why did it sound like the blues?
“When you got kicked? That did something, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. It tore something.” Bastian closed his eyes. “I need to have some surgery.”
Her breath shuddered. “Surgery? Are you okay?”
“I will be.” Something dark lurked under his words, hiding like a rodent under a bush.
“What’s he going to do?”
“Just fix things.”
Why wouldn’t he meet her eyes? What else was he hiding?
She couldn’t even think of the C-word but that was the terror that twisted her stomach. “What aren’t you telling me? Did he find…something?”
A bitter snort fanned her hair. “You could say that. I’m not sterile.”
She froze. Shock nailed her feet to the floor and sped ice through her veins. “What? All those tests you—”
“I was. Dale thinks some kind of blockage was partially torn away. It’s not complete and could do some real harm if I don’t have it taken care of.”
She couldn’t feel her cheeks. All the blood drained from her face and a hollow ache erupted in her chest. “You’re not sterile?”
The empty echo in her words turned the corners of his mouth down. He rubbed her upper arms. “Don’t worry. It’s a minor procedure.”
“You’re not sterile.” She was stuck on repeat. Nothing else penetrated her brain.
A resigned acceptance bled across his face and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. His fingers bit into her skin as he shook her. “It’s okay. He’s doing a vasectomy at the same time he repairs the tear.”
That snapped her head back like a punch. “What?”
“I’m having a vasectomy.”
Afternoon sunshine slanted in the window and turned his hair to dandelion gold. It highlighted the lost hope on his cheeks. Her brain processed, hitched and replayed. Bastian had a chance to grab his dream and wasn’t taking it? That made no sense. He wanted kids. He could have kids now. Why was he going to…
The frost of her shock seeped away, pushed by heated fury. He didn’t want kids with her. If he were still married to Lisa, this would have been the most wonderful thing in the world. He’d be jumping for joy and celebrating, probably order a box of It’s a Fetus! cigars right away. But with her, he’d ordered a vasectomy.
“When?”
“It’s set for Friday.”
“You already scheduled it?”
“Yeah, Dale had an opening and I didn’t see any point in waiting.”
He didn’t see a point. He never even thought about asking her to change her mind. He’d decided for her, for them. Her skin crawled. He’d judged her, found her lacking and made the monumental decision by himself. She never made huge decisions without talking to him.
She’d better start, though. “I’m accepting a job offer.”
His eyes went wide. “What job? Where?”
Heavy-gauge paper crinkled in her hand. She ripped the letter from her purse and thrust it at him.
Breathing fast, he snapped it open. His jaw dropped. “Phoenix? You’re moving to Phoenix?”
She tried to wet her lips but her mouth was dry. “KPNX wants me. Free rein on programming. Booking my own guests. No censorship.
Playboy
as a sponsor. The salary package is sweet. This is my shot and I’m taking it.”
Bastian refolded the letter and tucked it back in the envelope. He bowed his head, his voice empty and low. “Of course you are. This is your dream. You’ve worked too hard to let it pass you by.”
Heartache welled with a bitter aftertaste. Her lip quivered and she flattened it to her teeth. He was going to let her go without a whimper. Of course he was. He wouldn’t dump her. No, that wasn’t Bastian’s way. They’d promise to call, email, visit maybe, but she knew that would fade away. He’d stay here, in his new practice, find a new best friend, a new…whatever she was.
The only constant in her life was change. Nothing lasted forever, not even Bastian.
“Yeah, so don’t let your dream pass by, okay? Give yourself a chance.”
His head jerked up. “What are you saying?”
Good hell, did she have to spell it out for him? He was smarter than this. “Your life is here. Mine’s waiting out there.”
His brows crashed low, furrowing his forehead. “You think I’m going to just let you go?”
“I didn’t ask for your permission.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’ve never tried to think for you.”
Tearing the letter out of his hands, she blinked the unshed tears away and let every ounce of indignant pride fill her. No, he’d never tried to think for her, never tried to change her. The vixen was fine as his friend, maybe as even his wife. But never for the mother of his children. “Why in the hell would you have a vasectomy? You want a child.”
“You don’t.” He jerked away, stalking to the back of the couch.
“You never asked me.”
He spun and gaped at her. “Jesus Christ, Charlie. I know you. You’re putting your body through hell to keep from getting pregnant and we’re not even sleeping together. Five seconds ago, you were staring at me like I might accidentally knock you up by breathing on you. Trust me, I get the ‘no baby’ message loud and clear. If I have to choose between a baby and you, you win.”
“No, we both do.” She shoved the envelope in her purse. “I get my dream job. You get your dream family with someone else.”
“That sounds like losing to me.” His right hand clenched into a fist. “I don’t want anyone else.”
A sneer twisted her lip but that was okay. It stopped it from shivering from bitten-back tears. “Yeah, you
want
me. I’m good enough to marry but not give you a kid? No thanks.”
The hinge squeaked a sharp note when she jerked the door open. Bastian caught her elbow as she tried to step onto the porch. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Let go.” Cold and precise, she left no room for argument.
Bastian pried his fingers away. “Talk to me.”
“Why? You didn’t need to talk to me before you decided.” Charlie stepped outside, away from him.