Page 121 of The Ampersand Effect

“Just what?” she pressed, needing Tobin to name her fears before they tangled with her own and created a volatile reaction neither was prepared for.

“…just—I don’t know what it means—forus.”

Her head tilted forward, shame and confusion radiating from her posture.

Grier didn’t know what it meant either. But she knew what shewantedit to mean.

She knew she didn’t want it to change anything between them.

She knew she would be there for Tobin, regardless of what the appointment revealed.

She squeezed the tops of Tobin’s shoulders, using her thumbs to work the tension at the base of her neck. Then, gently, she invited Tobin’s head back on to her shoulder—where she could give her weight back to Grier. No matter what, Grier had committed to bearing this burden with Tobin. She wasn’t going to let Tobin forget it.

“I think as long as we both remember that there’s anusat the end of the appointment, that we can figure out whatever the results are—together.”

But her anxiety wouldn’t settle. She had to ask the question she feared most. She hated the insecurity behind it—but she needed reassurance that their relationship held weight for Tobin, too. Old habits die hard.

“If that’s what you want?”

She hated how it sounded like a question.

Tobin shifted her against her shoulder, nuzzling her nose against the apex of Grier’s jaw. Her lips were there, finding Grier’s pulse point, and Grier knew Tobin could feel the race of her heart against her lips.

her.

Then Tobin’s hands were in her hair, pulling her in—anchoring

Her lips brushed against Grier’s just before her confession: “That’s what I want.”

Twenty-Three

Tobin collapsed into the passenger seat of Harrow’s car, her legs no longer capable of holding her beneath the weight of her grief.

Harrow slid in behind the wheel and stared silently through the windshield.

Long moments passed as Tobin fought to control her breathing, desperate to silence her brain from replaying the last hour—the hour that shattered her plan. The hour that killed her dream.

“Tobin—”

“Don’t. Just… don’t, Harrow.”

Her voice was low, trembling with rage. Pissed didn’t begin to cover it. She was furious.

“Nothing you say will change it.”

She curled her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead against them.

She would not cry…

Harrow’s hand found hers—a quiet, steady weight—and she fell apart.

A gut-wrenching sob clawed its way from the pit of her stomach, acid rising with it. She flung the door open and dry-heaved onto the pavement. Her gut was empty—a cruel parallel to her uterus.

She was barren.

“Your labs indicate a lower-than-anticipated level of egg viability.”

“There are things we can try to promote fertilization, but you need to be realistic.”