True believer - Nicholas Sparks [99]
When he finished, Lexie simply stared at him, trying to make sense of what he’d just told her. “Your wife left you because you found out that you couldn’t have kids?” she asked.
“Not right away. But in the end, yes.”
“And there was nothing the doctors could do?”
“No.” He seemed almost embarrassed. “I mean, they didn’t say it was utterly impossible for me to have a child, but they made it clear that it would most likely never happen. And that was enough for her.”
“What about adoption? Or finding a donor? Or . . .”
Jeremy shook his head. “I know it’s easy to think she was heartless, but it wasn’t like that,” he said. “You had to know her to fully understand. She grew up thinking that she’d be a mother. After all, her sisters were all becoming mothers, and she would have been a mother, too, if it wasn’t for me.” He glanced up toward the ceiling. “For a long time, I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think I was defective, but I was. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but after that, I just felt like less of a man. Like I wasn’t worthy enough for anyone.”
He shrugged, his voice growing more matter-of-fact as he went on. “Yeah, we could have adopted; yeah, we could have found a donor. I suggested all of that. But her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to be pregnant, she wanted to experience childbirth, and it went without saying that she wanted it to be her husband’s. After that, things started going downhill. But it wasn’t just her. I changed, too. I was moody . . . I started traveling even more for my work . . . I don’t know . . . maybe I drove her away.”
Lexie studied him for a long moment. “Why are you telling me all this?”
He took a sip of his beer and scratched at the label on the bottle again. “Maybe it’s because I want you to know what you’re getting into with someone like me.”
At his words, Lexie felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She shook her head and turned away.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“What makes you think I don’t mean them?”
Outside, the wind began to pick up, and she heard the faint tones of the wind chime near the door.
“Because you don’t. Because you can’t. Because it’s not who you are, and it has nothing to do with what you just told me,” she said. “You and I . . . we’re not the same, as much as you want to think we are. You’re there, I’m here. You have a big family that you see frequently, I only have Doris, and she needs me here, especially now, considering her health. You like cities, I like small towns. You have a career you love, and I . . . well, I have the library and I love that, too. If one of us is forced to change what we have, what we’ve chosen to make of our lives . . .” She closed her eyes briefly. “I know that’s possible for some people to do, but it’s a hard row to hoe when it comes to building a relationship. You said yourself that the reason you fell in love with Maria was because you shared the same values. But with us, one of us would have to sacrifice. And if I don’t want to have to sacrifice, I don’t think it’s fair to expect you to sacrifice, either.”
She lowered her gaze, and in the ensuing stillness, he could hear the clock above the fireplace ticking. Her lovely face was clouded with sadness, and he was suddenly gripped by the fear that he might be losing any chance he had with her. Reaching over, he used his finger to turn her cheek toward him.
“What if I don’t think it’s a sacrifice?” he said. “What if I tell you that I’d rather be with you than go back to my old life?”
His finger felt electric against her skin.