8: EIGHT

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When the car stopped, she knew they were back at her house

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When the car stopped, she knew they were back at her house.

"Can I come in?"

In fact, she wanted nothing else. He got out, even in the pouring rain, and went to her side. He let Tala out, leading both to the door. Once they got in, Tala ran somewhere and Marisol groaned. "I need to take off her harness."

"I'll do it, but let's get you dried off."

She giggled as he picked her up bridal style and took her upstairs. When he put her back on her feet, she could feel the water falling down her legs onto the floor. She shivered and he sighed, going into her bathroom. She could hear the shower turn on, and he grabbed her hand, leading her in.

"Check the temperature, make sure it's not too hot or cold. Take a long, warm shower, and then you will come out and tell me what happened. Are you hungry? It doesn't matter, I'll bring something up."

As he left, Marisol smiled to herself, pressing her fingers to her lips. What happened? And how could she make it happen again?

She decided after a warm shower to not say anything. He probably just kissed her knowing she was upset. What was she even thinking anyway? That somehow he'd fall for her and they'd live happily ever after with their baby that was from IVF even though both were completely capable of having kids?

She cocked her head, thinking, as she turned off the water and grabbed her towel of the rack. Now that she thought about it, she was never told she was unable to naturally produce kids...she could get pregnant through sex. Why would they go through all this work, all the money, when they could just have sex...

But she knew if they had sex she'd never recover emotionally because then the baby would be hers. Not hers, theirs. Somehow, in some illogical way, IVF seemed less personal than sexual conception and she kept telling herself that even though the child would be hers, it wasn't hers. If she had sex, got pregnant, and then had to give the baby up, she didn't think she would ever recover.

As she sat on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, eating French toast with the crust cut off, she almost felt like it was all...going to be alright.

"Tell me what happened."

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

She asked him to stay, and he fell asleep beside her. When she woke up, he had made breakfast. He told her he had to go get a change of clothes and then they would go to their appointment.

Sitting alone on her bed, her phone rung and she listened to the caller ID. It was her mother; she didn't want to talk to her. She didn't even have the courage to tell Grey even after all the times he tried to get her to open up.

When the call ended, she listened to the voicemail.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. You know your father has a temper. You are just so sensitive! Anyway, call me when you get the chance. Love you, baby girl."

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