“I forgot I put it there,” I whisper—to Chess or to my baby’s image, I don’t know. I’d tossed it so carelessly into a draw to sit in the dark. With a shaking hand, I take the picture from Chess.

It’s an old-fashioned sonogram that only shows an outline, not the more modern, high-tech version that renders a perfect image. “Britt was superstitious about seeing the baby’s face before she was born,” I tell Chess with a voice that sounds like chunky gravel. “Said some things should be a surprise.”

“Honey…” Chess rests her cheek against my arm.

“I don’t even know if I regret that decision or not.”

Chess wraps an arm around my waist and hugs against my side. I turn into her warmth, and take a deep breath. “I’m okay,” I tell her. “I am. I just get sad sometimes.”

“I know,” she says, stroking my stomach.

My thumb touches the little image.

Chess speaks again in a low, hesitant tone. “I could frame it for you, if you’d like.”

For a long moment, I stare down at my baby girl. “No.” I clear my throat. “I don’t think I can manage that… But she needs a safer spot to rest.”

“Of course.”

I take another deep breath and gently place the sonogram on top of the dresser, away from all the mess, before turning back to Chess and wrapping her in my arms. She hugs me tight.

“I feel bad for Britt,” I mumble into Chess’s hair. “But I’m sorry if it got too intense when she showed up.”

Chess looks up at me. “Don’t ever be sorry about something like that.” Her green gaze searches my face. “It’s okay, you know, to be friends with her. Maybe you can give each other something no one else can.”

“God, please don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That I have something no one else can give her. I hate the idea of Britt hurting, but I don’t think I’m the one to help her. She seems to think…”

I hesitate, and Chess frowns. “What?”

“Before you walked in, Britt started saying that she thought we were meant to be together.” I run a hand over my face. “She’s kind of messed up, Chess. She was talking about having another baby with me. I think she wants to…recreate…”

I can’t finish.

“Shit,” Chess whispers.

“She needs help, Chess. But I can’t give it to her. I tried to tell her that there will be other chances. She’ll find someone and have kids one day. We both will.”

If I wasn’t looking right at Chess, I would have missed her flinch. She’s good at hiding it, giving my hand a squeeze. “You will.”

Chess lets my hand go and opens a drawer to fill it with socks.

I stand there in heavy silence. “Something I said upset you.”

She glances my way. “Of course I’m upset. Your pain is mine.”

I believe that. I feel that. It’s a comfort I never expected but appreciate. Even so. “That’s not it, though. Something hurt you personally. What is it?”

The line of her slim shoulders tense. She opens the next drawer. “I’m fine, Finn. Really.”

I take her hand and halt her movements. “Chess, come on. Something has been bothering you since Britt showed up here. You think I can’t see it?”

A glimmer of panic lights her eyes before she glances away. “Now isn’t the time to talk about this.”

Breaking free of me, she heads out of the closet.

I follow her. “There’s never a right time to talk about painful shit. But I’m here.” Catching up to her, I clasp her elbow and she halts. I move closer, until my chest is pressed against her back. “Talk to me. Please.”

I’m tall enough to see her eyes flutter closed, and the pain that etches her face. “I can’t have them. Children. Babies.”

It’s the last thing I expected her to say. “What?”

Her breath shudders. “I’m basically infertile.”

Shit. Every comment I’ve made about having kids swims through my head. It had to have been a slap in the face for Chess. But she let me ramble and cry on her shoulder. “Honey…” I reach out for her.

She moves away from me and starts pacing. “I found out during the whole latex fiasco. I’ve always had bad periods, horrible cramps, whatnot. I thought the latex issue was related to wearing… Anyway, they did a whole checkup thing and discovered that I had cysts in my uterus.” She talks faster and faster. “I had them taken out. But it was so bad that there was significant scarring and the docs told me that I have little to no chance of becoming pregnant. Deformed uterus, and all that.”

“Chess…”

She talks over me, the pitch of her voice rising. “And it isn’t as if I’d been going around dreaming of babies or anything. But when the choice is taken away from you…” She shakes head, blinking rapidly.

Before she can move again, I grab her hand and tug her onto my lap as I sit on the couch. Her posture is rigid but she turns to face me. “It isn’t the same as what you went through, but I know how it feels to lose something you didn’t even know you wanted.”

“I’m so sorry, Chess.” I tell her, cupping her cheek.

She leans into my touch, and her hand come up to rest on my chest. “It is what it is.”

“Yeah, but you’ve had to listen to me go on and on—”

“Hey,” she cuts in softly. “I want to listen. I want to be here for you.”

I nod, but before I can reply, she talks again.

“But you want something I can never give you.”

The words swell between us. And I feel myself grow still. “What do you mean?”

But I know.

Chess gives me a sad smile. “You want kids. You know that now. And I can’t have them.” Her lids lower. “I think about that and what it means for the future of us. And it scares me.”

“Chess—”

“Let me say this. I know my worth. I know that who I am is the sum of all of me not the parts that aren’t perfect. I know that if I want children, I can adopt or find a surrogate. There are options. I’ve had all these conversations with myself already.”

Her hand glides over my chest in a slow, steady circle, as if I’m the one who needs soothing.