The Soul Mate Page 11

  My mouth dropped open and I pushed into her as I came with her, working her body for every last drop of pleasure before finally releasing her and collapsing onto the bed beside her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bren

  “That big bag of candy is sounding awfully good right about now.”

  Mason chuckled at me from the bed.

  I pulled on my pants, then turned around to look at Mason, still lying against my pillow and staring at me with those penetrating blue eyes of his. I was still scared shitless, but with every touch and every minute we spent together, I was starting to wonder if maybe it really could be this good with someone. This easy…

  “Hungry?” he asked, but in response his own stomach rumbled.

  I laughed.

  “I guess it is about time for it,” he said, glancing at the digital clock on my nightstand. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and swung his feet to the floor.

  “No, don’t get up.” I yanked my shirt over my head and then rushed toward him. “Stay naked and we can order a pizza and eat in bed.”

  Something about leaving this space and the cocoon of my room made me feel angsty. Like it might break the spell or pop the little bubble of happiness I was living in.

  “I can get naked again whenever you need me to,” he said. “But if you’re not staying naked while we wait for the delivery guy, then I’m not either.” The mattress springs creaked as he got up and grabbed his pants. As he shoved his legs into his jeans, he glanced down at the floor, and I followed his gaze to find that the ripped white envelope had fallen out of his pocket.

  “Yeah,” I said, swallowing past the growing tension in the room. Damn. For that hour there, I’d nearly forgotten all about that little white piece of paper.

  Liar.

  “You’re right,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was in a prison cell instead of a cocoon. “It might be good to get some food outside the house. There’s a pizza place around the corner open if you don’t mind my wearing this.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all.”

  Inwardly, I let out a little sigh as he pulled his shirt back on, hiding his contoured abs from view.

  “All right, I’ll grab my purse.” Finding it in its usual spot, I took my clutch and led the way from the apartment building down to the row of little shops around the corner.

  “There’s a river not far from here. It’s beautiful in the spring. One of the only places in the city where you can still fish.”

  “You fish?” He raised his eyebrows and I nodded.

  I opened my mouth and closed it. Then, thinking of what Mandy had said, I started again. “My, um, my dad and I used to go on fishing trips when I was little. He’s the one who taught me.”

  “That sounds like a nice memory. Do you still go?”

  My throat went dry. “No.”

  That seemed like enough sharing for now. For a second I wanted to pat myself on the back, but I knew, even in my own warped mind, that wasn’t nearly enough.

  We walked into the building and, lucky for me, Mason’s attention was captured by the glowing neon sign listing the restaurant’s specials. In a matter of seconds, a waitress appeared and led us to a table with windows that overlooked the river I’d been talking about.

  “Seems like we’re destined to eat on the water,” I said. “First the golf course, now here.”

  Mason nodded. “I like it. It’s…romantic.”

  Less romantic was the pile of appetizers we got—a mountain of fried goodness that was destined to make us feel awful for days to come. Still, I couldn’t help but inwardly squeal at the thought of lots and lots of garlic knots dipped in spicy marinara.

  Was that a pregnancy craving, or just a garden-variety craving? My thoughts tripped back to the white envelope and my throat went tight.

  “So.” He eyed me warily, and I cut in.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?” I asked, almost paranoid that he could read my thoughts.

  He shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. I just… I kind of want to talk about the baby. If you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.” I shrugged, sort of relieved I wasn’t alone in this. “I think about her a lot.”

  “Her?” he asked, cocking a brow my way.

  I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Oh my gosh,” I murmured. “I didn’t even realize. I mean, I’ve sort of been calling her a girl in my head.”

  “Does it feel like a girl?” he asked softly. “Have you been having symptoms?”

  A rush of heat flooded to my cheeks. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I have been having some, definitely not a lot, but a few symptoms.”

  “Like what?” he asked, sipping on his soda.

  “Well.” I cleared my throat. “My, uh, breasts? They’ve been really tender. And I also, maybe, have an increased libido. Possibly,” I added, my cheeks flaming.

  His mouth spread into a wolf’s grin, and for a moment I wondered whether he was proud of himself for amping up my sex drive or if the idea that this baby might be real was too much for him to hold inside. Whatever the case, though, I found myself beaming back.

  I grabbed a mozzarella stick and a knot of buttery bread.

  “Have you had any cravings?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m dying for these garlic knots,” I said. “I don’t know what counts as a craving, though. My mother ate lemons whole when she was pregnant with me.”

  “Are you serious?” he asked with a chuckle. “I’ve heard some women tell me whacky things, but I don’t recall hearing that one before.”

  I nodded. “Dead serious. My dad brought home limes because the store was out of lemons once and she chucked them at his head until he went to another store and found some.”

  “That’s intense,” Mason said. “So are you telling me I should get a helmet just in case?” he teased.

  “Couldn’t hurt,” I said with a laugh. “But, yeah, if that’s the response to a craving, then, no. I don’t feel the urge to pelt you with food.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’ll duck.”

  “Don’t you dare. If I’m carrying your baby, you’d better let me hit you with all the garlic knots I want.”

  His smile warmed and sent a thrill through me. “Okay, fine. Deal.”

  “Deal.” I nodded, then picked up a garlic knot and tossed it at him.

  He snagged it out of thin air without even blinking and I gasped.

  “I can read you like a book,” he said before taking a triumphant bite.

  That may be true and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

  “I guess I just have to use the element of surprise next time.” I shrugged and then took a bite of my own food.

  When Mason finished chewing, he said, “So, you think about her a lot?”

  “I do.” I nodded.

  “What do you think about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I sort of think about what her nursery would look like and what kinds of things we could do together as she gets older. Teaching her to walk.”

  “And fish,” Mason added, and my heart broke a little bit.

  I had thought about that. Often. And I still hadn’t decided if it would break my heart to do it without my dad there or help me heal some.

  “Yes, and fish,” I said quietly.

  “Do you think you’re going to be an overly protective mom?”

  “Why? You planning on taking her skydiving?”

  “Not until she’s at least fifteen.”

  “Eighteen,” I countered.

  “Eighteen, then. No, I was thinking of teaching her to work on cars and how to ride horses.”

  “You ride horses?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I have cousins in Montana who own a ranch. I used to go there every summer to help out. My parents thought it was important that I get a full sense of the world.”

  “Well, anything with animals is okay in my book,” I said. “Just d
on’t let her treat your patients or anything until after medical school.”

  “We’ve decided on medical school for her already?” he asked with a laugh.

  “It’s the family business,” I shrugged. “It seems likely, don’t you think? Plus, on her first Halloween we can get her tiny scrubs and a little stethoscope. How cute would that be?”

  “You really have been thinking about this a lot, huh?” he asked softly.

  I nodded. “A lot. And I want what’s best for us. Which is why…when we’re done here, I think we ought to go back to my place and find out what’s inside that envelope. I’m being a chickenshit and it’s time to rip this Band-Aid off once and for all.”

  He nodded encouragingly. “I think that’s the right thing to do.”

  I realized for the first time that he always wanted to open the envelope. He’d only been waiting for me. And the anticipation must have been killing him. I think in that moment I fell a little in love and instead of fighting it, I pulled the feeling closer and let it wrap around me like a warm blanket.

  We waited for the check, which he paid like a gentleman, and then we walked back onto the street with our hands laced together.

  “I like the idea of a tiny you,” he said.

  “A tiny me?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He swung our hands back and forth between us. “Maybe she’ll be a veterinarian. A little bit of you and a little bit of me.”

  “Makes sense.” I sighed. “Whatever she becomes, we know she’ll be smart.”

  “If she has half your brains, she’ll be just fine.”

  “I would say the same about you.” We stopped in front of my complex, and he leaned down and kissed me just as a raindrop fell on my shoulder. Slowly I wrapped my arms around his neck and fell into his kiss, pushing and pulling along with his tongue until my head swam.

  I didn’t know if I was stalling or simply taken by the moment, but whatever it was, when he pulled away, the last thing I wanted to do was follow him inside.

  Instead I wanted to stay out here in the rain, in his arms, breathing in the uncertainty of a family that I only just now realized how badly I wanted.

  It had been so long since I’d had a family that was whole and happy and good. To have this baby…to have the chance to mend the broken pieces of my heart that my father’s death had left behind…it would be such a blessing. But I had to take that terrifying first step.

  Mason took my hand and led me into the building, stopping only when we reached my front door.

  I pulled out my keys and unlocked it, then led him inside, ignoring the sudden tightness in my chest.

  “Time for round two,” I said, then found the matches and lit every candle in the room until the whole place was filled with glowing yellow light. Mason ducked into my bedroom, and when he reappeared, he held the white envelope—and our fate—in his hands.

  I took a deep breath then turned on the indie folk station again, closing my eyes as the music filled my head and dulled the insistent pounding of my heart.

  “We don’t have to do this.” His deep voice rumbled through the room, and I opened my eyes again to find Mason waiting for me.

  “No,” I said, taking another step toward him and the tall pillar candle in the center of my coffee table. Thought nerves swam in my belly, I knew it was time. “I want to know. Once and for all.”

  He nodded. “Then let’s find out.”

  He handed me the envelope and I blinked back at him. “But I thought—”

  “You’ve been patient with me and you agreed to my crazy scheme. You should be the one to open the envelope.”

  I swallowed hard, then nodded. “Okay, fine, but come close so we see it at the same time.”

  He took another step toward me, wrapping one of his arms around my shoulders as I held the envelope in my now trembling hands.

  This was it. The moment of truth.

  “Whatever this paper says…” I started, but I had no words. Shaking my head, I wet my lips, then said, “Maybe we ought to count down?”

  “That’s a great idea. On three?” he asked.

  “On three,” I agreed.

  “One,” he said.

  “Two,” I sighed.

  “Three.” We said the last word in unison, and I tore the final scrap of paper from inside the envelope and stared down at it as Mason’s arm squeezed me close to his hot, hard chest.

  But the words weren’t right and they blurred before me. They weren’t the ones I’d been expecting. And when I closed my eyes at night?

  The words weren’t the ones I’d seen in my dreams.

  Mason’s arm loosened from my shoulders and he stepped back before I turned to face him.

  “Not pregnant,” I said through numb lips, though the words alone made me suddenly want to burst into tears. “Are you relieved?”

  I could hear myself talking and it sounded echoey to my own ears as I tried to quell the sudden wash of nausea that swept over me.

  “No,” he said simply, his blue gaze searching mine. “Not at all.”

  “Me, neither,” I admitted, swiping a trembling hand over my eyes. “Shit. How accurate is this?”

  “It’s accurate, Bren.”

  Confusion, fear and disappointment washed over me. “I think I need a drink.”

  I blew out the candle on the coffee table and stalked toward the little bar cart in the entryway. Carefully I selected the best bottle of whiskey I had—though in truth it was also the only bottle—and poured two glasses.

  Making my way back to him, I held out a glass and he took it without a word.

  “I thought…” I started, but everything I’d thought sounded dumb now. Unimportant.

  I took a sip of my drink and winced at the burning oaky flavor that hit me even harder considering I hadn’t had a drink in so long. I couldn’t. Not when I’d thought I was having a baby.

  A million questions rushed through my head, but I didn’t have the nerve to ask a single one of them. Instead, I settled onto my couch and stared down at my glass, wondering about what this would mean for me. What it would mean for us. He had no reason to stay here now, to make this budding relationship work. And I had no reason to ask him to.

  Only a couple of hours or so ago, we’d daydreamed together about a baby girl who was smart and brave and wonderful, pledged that we were together, but that had been when there was a potential baby in the mix. Now that we knew there wasn’t? There was no telling how Mason’s feelings might have changed. Maybe this was the end of the road.

  But it was more than that. I felt like, even though there had never been a baby, the child between us had gone. Like all my hopes and dreams for the baby I’d wanted so much were dashed in that one terrible moment. And just like a tragedy, the death of hope left grief in its wake.

  “So,” Mason said, and then took a sip of his own drink.

  I followed suit, then said, “So.”

  We stared at one another, suddenly aware of a stark, tense awkwardness that had never been more present…not even the day my feet had been in stirrups. Which, I supposed, made sense, because suddenly there was simply nothing left to say. We had nothing to do, nothing to plan. The vitamins he’d given me were useless. All of our past conversations on the topic were just silly dreams.

  It was all gone, replaced instead with crushing, all-consuming disappointment.

  “I have to get up early,” I said. “I wonder if—”

  “Yeah, sure. I’d better get going anyway. I’ve got a big day ahead of me as well,” he said, and though we both knew we were just making lame excuses, I nodded. Clearly we both needed some time to process this and didn’t need an audience while we did it. It was a lot to take in.

  I followed him to the door, taking his half-full glass before waving him off and embracing the sudden stillness of the apartment.

  “Night,” he said stiffly.

  “Night,” I returned before closing the apartment d
oor.

  There were no sweet embraces, no tender goodnight kisses, no promises to call tomorrow.

  As I took a deep breath and stalked toward the bar cart for a refill, I realized there were things to be grateful for. Loads of them. Now I wouldn’t have to move or know the financial burden of a child. I wouldn’t go through morning sickness or cravings. I wouldn’t have stretch marks or pee when I coughed too hard. I wouldn’t gain weight. Hallelujah, am I right?

  I wouldn’t have a baby.

  With shaky hands, I brought the whiskey to my lips and took a long sip.

  I glanced at the door behind me, then leaned back until my back hit the wood of the door. I slid all the way to the ground, crumpling until my head rested on my knees and I saw the world from an angle as big and overwhelming as it felt.

  I wouldn’t have a baby.

  I couldn’t understand it any more than I could understand why the weight of loss was pressing so hard and deep on my chest. Leaning my head back against the wood of the door, I tried again to take a deep breath, but instead I gasped out a sob as a scalding tear rolled down my cheek and dripped onto my shirt.

  First one, then another and another until I was crying, mourning the loss of something that had never been mine to begin with.

  I wasn’t having Mason’s baby.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mason

  I felt like I’d been holding my breath ever since I’d left Bren’s apartment last night.

  As Mondays went, it was even worse than usual—complete with a drab, rainy sky and the promise of a stilted lunch with only one of my parents instead of both of them. Because, from now on, that was how I’d be seeing them most of the time now—separately.

  After my second appointment of the day, I trudged back to my office, determined to get some work done if only to feel slightly accomplished on top of whatever else this deluge of disappointment and confusion had already caused.

  As soon as I sat down, though, Trent walked in behind me, knocking on the open door before stepping in front of my desk.

  “Why aren’t you ready to go?”