CHAPTER 36
I didn’t call Reginald like I promised when we left the fertility clinic. I didn’t respond to his voicemails either. He’d already given me the evening off. I wouldn’t have to face him for over twenty-four hours.
What I would have to face was my husband.
“What a bunch of idiots.” It seemed that insulting the doctors who ran our tests was a better alternative than accepting the fact that he couldn’t father children.
“Load of snake-oil conmen.” Apparently, when the medical professionals told my husband he was sterile, it was easier to assume that they were greedy con artists intent on stealing our money from us (or Reginald) than to accept that they might be telling the truth.
“Brood of vipers, the whole lot of them.” Because when Chris didn’t know where else to channel his an
