I shove his chest. “So leave!” I sign and point to his door. “Go!” I turn my back on him and face the flowers lining the fence. Then I lift my camera, switching it on as I do. I bring the viewfinder to my eye and press down on the shutter. The shutter never sounds. I pull away and check the battery icon, but nothing shows on the screen. I switch it off and on again, my bandaged thumb slipping against the switch. I try again. And again. Nothing works.

Josh is standing beside me now, his gaze switching from the camera to me. “Why won’t it work?” I sign.

He sighs.

“I wanted to take some photographs for Grams,” I tell him. “Summer storms are her favorite. Like this dress is your favorite.” I point to my dress. “Do you like it?”

“I love your dress, babe. I already told you that.”

“You did?” I sign.

His lips form a line as he nods once. Slow. Careful.

I frown and look down at my camera again. “Why won’t my camera work?” I sign.

Josh steps to me, his arms going around my shoulders. He brings my face into his bare chest while thunder cracks and lighting turns the world bright. “In all ways. For always,” he murmurs, but I don’t think he’s talking to me.

*     *     *

He helps me into his apartment, into his bathroom, and into the shower. He watches me, but not the same way he did in Portland. His eyes don’t wander my body. They don’t wander at all. They stare at my eyes, and they question. They question who I am, who he is, and who we are together, and whether it’s possible that his declaration to love me unconditionally is actually possible. I know that’s what he’s thinking, because I think it, too.

The shower acts like a cold one, the sprays of water blanketing me with the realization of what I’d done and the way I’d acted. Maybe I’m my own brand of crazy. And maybe after watching me Josh realized that. And as I step out of the shower and into his waiting hands—hands holding a towel he uses to dry me—I decide to give him the only truth, the only secret I’ve kept to myself. Not just because he deserves to know, but because after everything I’ve caused him to experience, he deserves an out.

I tap his shoulder and wait for him to look at me. “I can’t have your children, Josh,” I sign.

He freezes, his towel-covered hands on my leg. “What?”

I grab my phone off the counter. “Physically, I probably can. I just don’t want to.” I keep my features even, not willing to reveal any sign of the heartache it causes to tell him this. I don’t want him to know it hurts. I just want him to know.

Josh stands to full height, his breath leaving him. “Why not?”

I choose my words carefully, wanting to give him the truth, and not cloud the facts with my emotions. “I did this study in sociology in high school. Nature vs. Nurture. My research paper was on what would make a mother an abusive alcoholic. If it was how she was raised or what she was around. She had a perfect adult life, really. A decent job, decent social life. But she used to always tell me about her dad’s drinking. How he hit her mother in front of her. She told me that right afterward, they’d have sex in front of her to show her that that’s what love was. You fight and you love. I’m not saying it’s an excuse for what she did to me. I’m just saying I don’t want it to be an excuse for what I might possibly do to my children.”

“Becca.” He shakes his head, his eyes disbelieving. “You can’t live your life like that.”

I ignore his statement and add, “It doesn’t hurt to think about anymore. It used to. Then I met Tommy and saw how you were with him and I thought, at some point, if I didn’t physically have a child, then I didn’t have to worry about treating them the way my mother had, or the way her parents had treated her. But if I had my own…” I trail off, shrinking beneath his penetrating gaze. “We could still be a nice little family. You, me, and Tommy. But that’s all we’d ever be. Just the three of us. And if that’s not enough for you, I would understand, Josh. I wouldn’t stop you from walking away like I once did. You earned that right. And I’d let you go. Because it’s not fair that you should have to love me broken, especially when I can never make you whole.”

—Joshua—

Becca’s crazy.

And I know it’s wrong for me to say that, but if she thinks that her completely unselfish decision to not want to bear any children is going to make me leave her then yeah, she’s fucking crazy.