The Duty Of The Heir (Book 3): Chapter 8
Rutland
The sun’s shining bright on the town center as Sasha and I wander through, arms linked, bags full of our latest shopping spree. The sound of laughter and chatter surrounds us, lifting my spirits. We move through the crowd, stopping now and then to peek at shop windows or admire a display that catches our eye.
Our happiness is just so tangible.
‘I can’t seem to shake off these last thirty-seven pounds,’ Sasha says, sounding down.
‘You’ve just had a baby. Go easy on yourself,’ I tell her, smiling.
‘But Aisling, I need to fit into my old clothes again,’ she insists.
‘I get it, but these things take time. Don’t rush,’ I advise her, chuckling lightly to keep things light.
‘It’s been weeks already, Aisling,’ she says, a touch of frustration in her voice. I can feel her stress, but I refuse to let it dampen my mood.
‘You look great to me,’ I reassure her.
‘I feel fat. I don’t even recognize myself anymore,’ she admits, her eyes showing her distress.
I can’t stand to see her so upset, so I make a goofy face. ‘Who are you then?’ I joke, pretending to be shocked.
Sasha’s eyes go wide, and she starts to laugh. ‘You’re ridiculous,’ she says, shaking her head at me.
‘You look fine to me,’ I say, and she does.
‘I don’t agree. Having kids changes everything,’ she sighs, looking off into the distance.
‘What about breastfeeding? I’ve heard that helps with weight loss. You’re doing great at it,’ I say, trying to lift her spirits.
‘It’s not working for me,’ she replies, disappointment in her voice. ‘I’ve even thought about weaning him next month.’
I’m shocked. ‘You can’t do that. He needs you.’
‘I’m not saying I will, but I’m thinking about it. It shows how desperate I am to lose this weight,’ she says.
‘Your body will adjust in time. Just focus on eating healthily and staying active,’ I tell her.
‘It’s hard to find time for exercise, and I have to watch my diet for breastfeeding,’ she says, sounding defeated.
‘Your baby comes first, Sasha. And he won’t be little forever,’ I remind her, hoping to comfort her.
‘That’s just not how it works for me,’ she says. ‘
As we walk, I spot this really nice green handbag in a store window. ‘Check out that bag,’ I say, pointing. ‘What do you think?’
‘Yeah, it looks great,’ she says, sounding a bit more cheerful.
‘Let’s go in and take a closer look,’ I suggest, excited about another store adventure.
‘Okay,’ she agrees, and we head into the shop, our conversation taking a backseat as we dive into the joy of shopping together.
As Sasha and I head towards the shop, she lets out this wistful sigh. ‘I wish you could stay till Saturday. The shopping fair is always filled with such cool stuff.’
‘I can’t stay that long,’ I tell her.
‘Why not? Duke won’t let you?’ she teases, arching an eyebrow playfully.
‘Duke’s not going to hold off the plane on Thursday just for me. He’s pretty set on his schedule,’ I say, laughing at the thought. ‘He’s not one to delay.’
We enter the shop, our faces lit up with excitement, and immediately spot this stunning green handbag. ‘It’s beautiful,’ Sasha says, her eyes sparkling with admiration.
I sling the bag over my shoulder, giving it a little twirl. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s gorgeous,’ she says again, clearly loving it.
‘Do you like it?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, but maybe in a different color,’ she says, looking around. ‘Green’s not really my color.’
Then I spot something else. ‘Hey, look over there! They have one in wine color.’
‘That’s perfect,’ she says, her face brightening even more.
‘How about you take the wine, and I’ll stick with this green one?’ I suggest, already thrilled with our finds.
‘That sounds great,’ she agrees, and we both smile.
Sasha and I are nestled in a cozy corner of a quaint restaurant, a small table by the window just for us. We’re enjoying a delicious lunch, and the atmosphere is just perfect.
‘We really need a Hugs and Mugs cafe in Rutland,’ Sasha says, looking out the window.
I nod, totally agreeing. ‘I’ve been thinking the same thing.’
‘You should open more branches, spread them across every state,’ she urges.
‘I’m planning on it, right after I get back from Rich Oaks. It’s time to grow,’ I tell her, feeling determined about the future of my cafe.
Sasha pauses, her expression turning serious. ‘I don’t like the idea of you going back there, Aisling.’
‘Why not?’ I ask, a bit taken aback. ‘I have to go back.’
‘Maybe this whole invitro thing isn’t the right path for you,’ she suggests gently.
‘How can you be sure of that?’ I ask, feeling defensive.
‘This will be your fifth attempt, Aisling. Maybe it’s trying to tell you something,’ she says softly, her gaze empathetic.
‘We might just get lucky this time,’ I counter, clinging to hope.
‘How can you be certain?’ she presses, her tone still gentle.
‘People go through many rounds before they succeed,’ I explain, trying to stay hopeful.
‘Why not just stay here and keep trying naturally with your husband?’ she suggests, her eyes encouraging.
‘I’ve been doing that since September. I extended my stay, took a break, focused on the cafe, and had fun with my husband. But still, nothing,’ I admit, my voice firm with the reality of it.
‘Everyone’s journey is different, Aisling. Maybe you just need more time,’ she says.
‘There’s no more time for me,’ I admit, feeling the truth of my words.
Sasha’s face softens with sympathy. ‘Don’t let them rush you into this.’
I sigh, feeling the weight of her concern. ‘But this is the path I chose.’
We sit there, the conversation lingering between us, a mix of hope and reality. But despite it all, I feel a certain resolve in my heart, ready to face whatever comes next.
Sasha looks at me, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. ‘I’ve been thinking… maybe Duke is part of the problem too?’
I let out a soft whisper, ‘Sometimes I wish that were true.’ It’s a complex thought, acknowledging the layers of my situation, but I’m clinging to the positive.
‘What about his sperm health?’ Sasha asks, and for a moment, we both break into laughter.
But then she gets serious. ‘I mean it, Aisling. Infertility isn’t always a woman’s issue.’
‘You’re right,’ I say, feeling grateful for her openness to all possibilities.
‘It could be the man, too, you know. That happens one-third of the time,’ she adds.
‘That’s true,’ I admit.
‘So, have you checked into that?’ she asks, her concern evident.
‘He’s fine. He goes to his urologist every quarter. Everything’s normal – quantity, motility, structure. They’re perfect,’ I explain, hoping to alleviate her worry.
‘Okay,’ she says, sounding a bit relieved.
‘We’re creating perfect embryos. They just won’t implant. It seems the issue is with me,’ I say.
‘What’s causing the problem?’ Sasha wonders, her brows knitting together in concern.
‘I don’t know. I’ve tried all sorts of treatments, but nothing’s worked so far. Maybe this break will make a difference,’ I say, still holding onto a sliver of hope.
‘I believe in you,’ Sasha says, her gaze warm and filled with faith.
‘We’ve got a vacation planned just before I head back,’ I share with Sasha, unable to hide my excitement.
‘Where to?’ she asks, curiosity lighting up her face.
‘Saint Lucas, on their brand new yacht,’ I say, grinning from ear to ear.
‘That sounds amazing. Is it a private yacht?’ Sasha’s clearly impressed.
‘No, it’s for commercial use,’ I clarify.
‘Do you guys have your own yacht?’ she asks, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.
‘Nope,’ I laugh. ‘We don’t.’
‘But why not? Duke could easily afford one for personal use,’ she points out, genuinely baffled.
‘I think he’s waiting for me, his wife who’s terrified of deep waters, to get over my fear,’ I joke, and we both burst into laughter.
‘Why are you afraid of the deep sea?’ she asks, her tone soft yet curious.
‘It’s the unknown beneath me. It always makes me nervous,’ I confess.
‘You’re watching way too many supernatural shows, Aisling,’ she teases, her smile wide.
‘I know, I can’t seem to stop,’ I admit, joining in her laughter.
‘So what’s the plan for this trip? You’re going to be on the yacht for a whole week,’ Sasha asks, eager to know more.
‘We’ll take short trips around, but we’ll stay on the coast at night,’ I explain.
‘But why schedule your vacation now?’ she wonders.
‘Why do you ask?’ I’m a bit puzzled.
‘Aren’t you going to be anxious the whole time, thinking about what’s next?’ she says, concern threading through her words.
‘No way,’ I respond, firmly. ‘I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.’