Chapter Thirty

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Stevie sat propped up on their king-size bed, surrounded by a plethora of plush pillows and scented candles, whose flames twinkled against the shadowiness of the bedroom with a mystical serenity. It was all that she was and all that she believed in; a perfect picture of the woman with whom Lindsey had never stopped falling in love.

He stood in the doorway, gazing absent-mindedly at her as she lost herself in her thoughts, sporadically scribbling down into her journal whatever words tickled at her fingertips.

Wandering the labyrinth of her own subconscious, Stevie was startled when she suddenly felt a presence in the room.

“Lindsey!” she yelped with her hand on her chest, trying to calm her breathing. “I didn’t see you there…”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to watch you for a while.”

The smile on her lips was just about visible and Lindsey enjoyed it while it lasted.

“So, what are you writing there?” he asked boldly, and to which Stevie just raised her eyebrow emphatically.

“When have I ever told you what I’ve been writing in my journal, Lindsey?”

“Point taken,” he nodded with a chuckle. “Can’t blame a guy for trying!”

Lindsey pulled back the sheets and climbed into the bed beside her, not touching her, but just close enough so that his presence could be of comfort to her.

The longer they sat there, the more uneasy Lindsey became. The tension in the air was palpable; he could feel it seeping from her body and lingering around them, like the heaviness of unspoken words.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked worriedly, rubbing her thigh over the sheets.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m okay, I just…”

“What is it, Steph? You can tell me.”

“Something feels strange,” she said quietly, furrowing her brow. “I don’t know what it is, I just – I have this weird feeling…”

“What kind of feeling?”

Stevie looked up at his imploring eyes and she suddenly snapped back into her comfort zone.

“Never mind – I’m sure it’s nothing…”

She closed her journal and took off her glasses, placing them both on the bedside table and blowing out a few of the candles. Lindsey took that as a sign; he had become quite good at knowing when Stevie wanted to speak about things, and also when she did not. So they sat in silence for a while in the dimly lit room, their fingers laced together as they hands rested between them.

“Do you think we’ll ever have another chance?” Stevie broke the silence, her voice a shade above a whisper.

She held her breath as she waited for Lindsey’s response, both not wanting to hear his answer and equally desperate to hear what he had to say. What he thought mattered to her a whole lot more than he could ever have imagined.

“We will if you want us to.”

Stevie whipped her head around to look at him, genuinely taken aback by the meaningfulness in his voice.

“What are you saying, Lindsey?”

“All I’m saying is that if you want another chance, we can always try again…”

“I can’t give you a baby, Lindsey.”

“That’s not what I meant, Steph,” he sighed, squeezing her hand as he heard the emotion rising in her voice. “I meant we can adopt again. We could give a baby a home, you and I…”

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