On the third day of our self-confinement, the day that Ezra and I both rolled out of bed at different points and made ourselves get ready to face the world, we eventually sat on the black leather couch at different ends, our expressions guarded as we watched each other. Over the three days, this had been building slowly. Some may say it was a stage in the grieving process, but this was new to us as both of us experienced a hurt separate from what we had ever felt before.
First, it came by us scooting farther away from each other in bed. After that, our gazes would never quite meet. Lastly, we stopped talking to one another completely. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jack and Pearl, both of whom had tried to get us to speak to one another, and, now, they hurriedly exited our bedroom, seeing Ezra and I were ready to discuss our issues.
I wasn’t sure how much discussing was going to happen, but I had to give it a shot. I loved Ezra. He was my best friend. So it had to be done, instead of stuffing our issues under a rug to hopefully be forgotten, as I did with any other lover. Clearing my throat, my gaze strayed from him to the wall over his shoulder. “This wasn’t an issue either of us planned for.”
“No.” His voice was gruff and low, his eyes dropping to his lap. “Not at all.” A pause. “I realize you already know this, but it still needs to be said.” Another pause. “I don’t blame you, Lily.” My breath caught as I scented his truth. And, yes, I had already known this, but it helped my soul hearing him say it. “Before, you had told me the surgeon was under a spell. Neither of us thought of the consequences to that.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, my gaze dropping to my own lap, trying to blink back tears mixed with relief and condemnation, which were trying to escape. “I appreciate you saying that.”
A minute of silence passed as we tried to collect ourselves.
“Ezra…” I swallowed, not sure of exactly what I wanted to say other than the obvious. “I love you.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I love you, too.” He stood abruptly, beginning to pace in front of the couch. “But, I can’t…” He cleared his throat hard, turning to face me, and waited for my eyes to meet his. “Lily, I do love you, but I can’t handle a sexual relationship with you right now.” His green gaze never wavered. “This was just too…”
“Much,” I whispered, finishing the sentence for him, nodding. “I understand.”
“I’m not saying never again, just not right now. I can’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t handle it.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced away. “This excuse is as old as it is lame, but it’s the truth.” Another clearing of his throat. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
I held up a hand, stopping him from saying anything further, while letting my head fall back so I could stare at the ceiling. “I said I understand. I need time away from you, too. I don’t blame you any more than you blame me, but I just need,” my lips pinched, “time.” Our emotions were too raw for us to be as we were before. And really, we had just fallen into one another. Our blinders were up, blocking out any other partner around us, but we hadn’t meant it to happen to the extent we didn’t even realize I was pregnant. After many hours of late-night contemplation these past few days, I realized that there had been signs, such as me eating twice as much food as Ezra and Jack combined, plus — the most obvious sign — my absent period.
Sighing heavily, his voice choked. “It’s hard.”
I understood that, too. “The ‘what-ifs’ are killing me.” They were. Before I had gone into the sparring ring with Elder Merrick, I had felt only slightly queasy, probably no more than a normal pregnant woman would. But, after the fall…
Sitting heavily on the couch, Ezra let his head fall back like mine and stared at the ceiling. “I keep thinking about what they would have looked like.” His tone was void. Monotone. “If they would have been small and beautiful like you. Or brutes like me. What skin tone they would have had — my dark or your light or a mixture. Or their eye color — blue, or green, or maybe a grandparent’s dark color. Whether they would have been boys or girls or one of each.” He sighed, the sound shaky and nothing like his voice. “Did you know twins are even rarer for Mysticals than they are for Commoners? Usually, they’re more powerful than a singleton.”
“No. I didn’t know.” It was a whisper. My breath was as shaky as his. “They would have been beautiful and perfect.”
“I know.” A hard sniff. “I fucking know.” He blurred, his face suddenly over mine and his hand cupping the back of my head. Our gazes held, the knowledge there of our shared loss. Gradually, he set his forehead against mine. “So we’re on a mutual break from each other.”
It wasn’t a question, but I quietly replied, “Yes. I think that’s for the best.” I knew it was.