“Babe,” Ham called.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled in answer, my focus on smoothing my napkin in my lap.

“Cookie, baby, come back to me,” he urged gently.

My eyes went to him.

“This is our beginning. Don’t let them f**k it up.”

This was our beginning.

I reached a hand across the table to him.

Ham caught it.

“Okay,” I replied.

He gave my hand a squeeze and let me go.

“Decide what you want. We’ll get into the deep shit when we won’t have interruptions.”

I nodded, picked up my menu, and read.

The beers came. We both ordered steaks. And loaded baked potatoes, sautéed mushrooms, and appetizers.

Ham ended this session by tipping his head to his beer and stating, “These get low, don’t ask. Bring more.”

“Of course,” she muttered and took off.

I stared at him with some unease.

“Am I going to need to be drunk?” I asked.

“No. How Rachel f**ked me was a long time ago and it was me she f**ked,” he answered.

“I, uh… Rachel?” I prompted when he didn’t continue.

“The bitch who aborted my babies.”

My mouth went dry, my hand resting on the table twitched, and I stared.

Did he say babies? Plural?

“What?” I breathed.

“Woman’s right to choose, I’m down with that. It wasn’t that, seein’ as we were married, planning a family, worked toward it, she got pregnant, I was f**kin’ beside myself, and she hauled off and ended it without one word to me.”

My throat was moving convulsively. It took effort to get it under control and when I did, I asked, “You were married?”

“Yeah. Got hitched when we were both twenty-one. Young, but I loved her, thought she loved me. It was all good.”

“I, uh… thought you said you’d never had a roommate except, well… me,” I reminded him and his head tipped to the side.

“A wife’s not a roommate, babe. She’s a partner.”

This was true.

It was time for the tough stuff.

“Why did she… she… end the pregnancy?” I queried.

“Said she didn’t know what she wanted,” Ham answered immediately. “Said I pressured her into it. Said a baby was a big deal and she should be sure.”

This was all true, except the part where he said they’d planned and worked toward it.

“I—” I began.

“Thing is,” Ham spoke over me, “she shoulda said that before she got knocked up. And she sure as f**k shouldn’t have aborted my kid without f**kin’ talking to me.”

Yes, she sure as f**k shouldn’t have done that.

“I don’t believe this,” I whispered.

“It was twenty years ago and, still, I don’t believe it either.”

I held his eyes. I knew mine were soft and I told him, “Ham, darlin’, I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothin’ to say,” he replied. “That started years of serious sick shit, which I participated in, bein’ stupid, young, in love, addicted to her pu**y, and, again, f**kin’ stupid,” he went on. “I left. She coaxed me back, promises of together forever and family. We’d get down to talkin’ about tryin’ again. She’d be all for it and then I’d find her birth control pills.”

This just got worse.

Ham wasn’t done.

“I’d confront her. She’d twist shit, convince me that I was layin’ it heavy on her. I’d back off, same shit would happen. I’d leave, she’d coax me back. Fuckin’ stupid. Whacked. Now, for a long time, it’s over.”

“Man, oh man, I… Ham, I… I’m at a loss,” I stammered.

“Yeah. Took a while for me to get old enough and smart enough to see things as they were. She was a selfish, spoiled bitch who wanted what she wanted how and when she wanted it and would do anything to get it. But the problem was, she wasn’t all-fired sure of what that was and she dragged me through that shit. Or it could be I didn’t get old enough and smart enough, just angry enough after she aborted my second baby.”

There it was. Babies. Plural.

I closed my eyes.

“Lost my f**kin’ mind, left her, divorced her ass, found I had a type,” Ham continued and I opened my eyes. “I didn’t give up. I tried. Got tangled in other relationships. Got jacked around, not as bad, but not good, by the woman after her and the woman after her. The first one took money out of my wallet without askin’, like I wouldn’t miss it, and went shoppin’ all the time, hidin’ the shit she bought from me, like I wouldn’t notice it when she eventually wore it. This was also somehow my fault because I didn’t take her anywhere nice, but more, I didn’t make enough money to do it and often.”

Yes. This just got worse.

“Ham—” I started, only for him to talk over me again.

“Bitch three pulled much the same shit as my ex-wife, promises of together and babies, but she worked out half the time. I had to pry her away from her goddamned mirror, she admired the results so much, and by the time we got down to it, again, I found her birth control pills so I knew she was jacking me. This, too, was my fault because I didn’t understand her issues with her body and how a baby would interfere with all her hard work, her body would never be the same, and she was uncertain she was prepared for that at her age. I knew she’d carried extra weight ’cause I was with her before she took it all off. And I knew she worked hard to get it off. I could understand that. Again, that’s the way she is. I get it. What I don’t get is her tellin’ me one thing and doin’ another. You don’t want a baby, say it.”

“They’d lose you if they did,” I explained carefully.

“So jackin’ me around is okay?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No,” I answered hurriedly. “I’m not excusing them. I’m just trying to explain so you understand. Losing you—especially you—is a hard thing to do, Ham. You’re a good guy.”

“Right.” He gave a curt nod. “I think I got that, babe. So exit good-guy Reece. From then on it was no promises, no expectations. Just good times and no bullshit. She starts feeding me bullshit, she doesn’t get another call.”

I pressed my lips together and Ham’s eyes dropped to them before coming back to mine.