by Cassie Mae
I run a hand over my forehead, hoping that I can rub out the little drummer boy who’s made a permanent home there.
“Take a message?” I ask Sarah. “I think I’m gonna head home.”
The corners of her mouth turn down, and her lips part like she wants to tell me whatever thoughts she has on my sour mood, but she thinks better of it and ducks out of my office.
It’s been a painfully long twenty-seven days of seeing Cooper and not being able to touch, kiss, or tell him how I really feel. And he seems in just as much pain as I am, jaw always ticking as we wander around houses, like he’s holding back everything and nothing all at the same time. Each showing ends the same—Cooper finding one imperfection with the place and asking if I know of anywhere else. Part of me wonders if he’s truly dissatisfied or if it’s a roundabout way of spending more time with me. We have another appointment in a few minutes, and I’m about ready to tell Sarah to take the lead on it. It’s become more painful than exciting to see Cooper and help him pick a house he wants to start a family in.
The message light on my cell blinks, and my fingers slip off my drawer handle as I try to get some aspirin in me. He’s early again. Always early. It’s probably the only thing we have in common, aside from the fact that we’re absolutely and totally in love with each other.
I quickly toss back the Advil and wash it down while clacking a response to Cooper. This better be the house he wants. Then it’s very little face time until he signs everything.
“Maya?” Sarah says, poking her head in so cautiously I start to wonder if she’s caught me crying or throwing things one too many times. “Mr. Sterling’s here.”
I push my drawer shut. “Feel like doing a showing for me?”
She humors me with a laugh, but she shakes her head and crosses the room. Her hands clasp around my wrists, and she pulls with all her might to get my mopey butt out of my chair.
“Think Cabo,” she says, fixing my blazer. “Warm sand and blue drinks and no drama.”
And no Cooper. Ugh, now all my dreams of traveling and beaches involve not some random islander, but a particular blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk of a man with a solid gold heart.
I let out a long groan, and Sarah says, “No, no… we’re going to pull ourselves together.” She ignores my frowny face and reaches up to fix my hair and makeup. Even if I didn’t know her, I’d know she was a mom with the way she’s handling me with equal amounts of tough love and concern. A soft sting pokes at my stomach, and I chase away the jealousy before it overwhelms me.
“He’s just another client,” she says, adjusting my collar. “He just wants to find a home. Help him out and then it’s vacation and much needed R&R time.”
She’s right. I’ll hand over keys and seal this puppy up and never see him again. I’ll go back to fun and flings and dreams of traveling the world on my own. And he can find his girl and have lots of babies and forget all about me.
Why does what I’ve always wanted sound so… not me anymore?
I’m on the verge of a relapse, and I think I’ll fall face-first off the wagon into his lips if our professional relationship goes on much longer.
***
We’re standing outside a beaten-down mansion that—while still bigger than my house and my neighbor’s combined—is completely falling apart. The previous owner’s must’ve taken a bat to the walls when the bank foreclosed, and there are wires hanging out everywhere, a floor missing in one of the bathrooms, and the basement is about ten percent finished while the other ninety is covered in spray paint.
“Thoughts?” Cooper asks as he turns to stare back at it with an interesting look on his face.
I take in a big ol’ breath and hold it, trying my best to figure out what angle he’s playing from. “You still manage to surprise me.”
His lips pull up in an adorable grin, and he crosses his arms. “Well, maybe you have a point about building from the ground up.”
“You want to tear it down? Build on top of it?”
He shakes his head. “I was thinking more like… marrying the two ideas.” He waves his arm out at the dilapidated house. “I’ve got the foundation, great floor plan, and sweet view. Just needs a little bit of spit shine.”
“A lot a bit,” I say with a laugh, but it has a weird aftertaste on my tongue, like I shouldn’t be allowed to laugh with him anymore.
I can feel his gaze on me, the air between us growing thick and painful. I purse my lips together, begging my words to stay professional, my hands to keep to themselves.
“I miss you,” he says, and I wish it sounded out of the blue. I wish it didn’t make me miss not just him, but how he says however he feels whenever he feels it.
He lets out a breathless laugh, and I meet his gaze with a furrowed brow.
“Well, I made it twenty-seven days without letting that slip out,” he says, and my heart flutters at the fact that he’s counting, too.
“A record for you.”
His hand twitches next to mine. “Gah, woman. Don’t do that. Don’t be sexy and witty or I’ll get on my knees and beg you to reconsider.”
“Your definition of sexy is very skewed.”
He tosses his head back and growls at the sky. “There you go again.”
I can’t look at him anymore. I swear if I see those blue eyes and that gorgeous soul then I will crumble and fall into his arms and never leave the safety of them. I keep my eyes fixed on the house and my thoughts on how sensible I’m being, even if my body is telling me I’m anything but sensible.
“Maya…”
“Don’t talk,” I blurt out, slamming my eyes shut and taking a deep breath. “Don’t be so forward and blunt and charming or it’ll be just that much harder for me to walk away from you again.” I turn to him, watch the surprise swirling around in his irises morph into dwindling self-restraint. “I’m a professional, damn it,” I say, my words strong, but the power behind them that of a baby mouse. “I’m just helping you buy a house.”
He steps in front of me. “True.”
“Our little detour into almost a relationship will just be a fun story we tell over future dinner dates with the people we’re meant to be with.”
He winces like I’ve slapped him, but quickly shakes it off and takes another step into me. His eyes drop to my lips, and I know he wants to kiss my babbling away… and I want him to want that enough to do it. My fingers twitch at my sides, and my voice carries off into a whisper as I try again to convince him that I did the right thing.
“I’m only your realtor. I’m going to sell you this house and then you won’t think about me again.”
His hand snakes up between us, his thumb brushing over my chin and his eyebrows pulling down. “If you think I could forget you so easily, you’re crazier than I thought.”
I let out a shaky breath between us. “Don’t kiss me.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
“What if I don’t care?”
My lips purse together, my heart beating to the rhythm of the most romantic and heartbreaking song in history. I shake my head, unable to form words because the truth is, right now, I don’t care either.
But I will. I know I will. I’ll let it go too far again and then I’ll have to tell the man I love that I can never ever give him what he wants. I’d have to watch his soul completely crush to dust behind those eyes that can’t hide anything. I’d live every minute with him wondering, worrying over if he wished he’d fallen in love with someone else.
His warm breath washes over me, clouding my mind, turning off my brain and turning on everything else, like little electric lights snapping and popping under my skin. I move the smallest of centimeters toward him, enough of an invitation for him to take advantage of my moment of weakness. His hands slide up to my cheeks, cupping my face and cradling me in a way I hadn’t realized I’d missed so much. His mouth grazes mine, I let out an involuntary moan… and my ring tone cuts through my fuzzy thoughts. I jolt away f
rom Cooper’s lips, clutching at my heart and breathlessly laughing at the heat rushing through my cheeks.
He lets out a small laugh. “Saved by the bell?”
A sigh floats off of my lips, and I reach for my phone. Holland’s name flashes on the screen.
“I have to get this.”
He nods and steps back, the air between us sobering me up like a bucket of ice water.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask into the phone. Holland sniffs on the other end.
“Take me away, please? Can we just take off somewhere for at least the weekend… a week if you can. Maybe a month.”
“What happened?”
“I need time away, and Warren said he’ll let me go without a fight if you go with me. I’m going either way, but I’d rather not argue anymore. I’m tired of arguing.”
My teeth sneak out and pull at my lip, and I glance at Cooper, knowing that time away could be just the thing for me, too.
“When do you want to go?”
“As soon as humanly possible.”
“I’ll pick you up tonight.”
“Thank you, Maya.”
I slowly bring the phone down and tap the red hang up button. There is a beat of silence before I flick my gaze up to Cooper, grateful he’s given me enough space to breathe air that isn’t filled with his scent.
“I have to run.”
He nods. Looks back at the house. “I want to offer on it.”
“How much?”
“Ten above asking price.”
“I-I’ll draw it up and send it over tonight.”
He nods again, and we slowly head to our separate vehicles—his giant, muddy truck and my sparkly clean bug. The moment is lost in the interruption—thank heavens. I don’t think I’d be able to break it off with him again, no matter how right that decision is. One time was hard enough.
25
Hide or Confide
I flop face-first onto the hotel bed, exhausted from a day and a half long drive. To my right, I hear Holland mimic the action on the other bed—well, as much as she can with the baby bump.
“My butt,” she groans, her voice muffled by a pillow. “Is it still there?”
I jam a thumbs up at her even though I don’t have the energy to lift my head and check for sure. I’m pretty sure her ass is just where she left it.
“You want room service?” I ask, tip-toeing my fingers over to the hotel book of over-priced food.
“Please. Then I really want to go for a massage.”
“Is that allowed?”
She gives me the glare from hell, and I clap a hand over my mouth like I’ve uttered an f-bomb in front of my mother. One of the rules for our getaway was no questioning what’s right or wrong for her pregnancy. I’ve failed three times now.
“Sorry, sorry,” I sputter, avoiding her stare by perusing all the dinner choices. There are pregnancy massages, I’m sure, and I wonder if a masseuse could rub out a broken heart. There are a pair of them right here.
After I order us some dinner, I kick off my shoes and slide back on the pillows, building myself a comfort nest.
“You ready to talk?” I ask, and Holland doesn’t move. For a second I wonder if she’s fallen asleep, but then she shifts, her black curtain of hair covering most of her face as she attempts to look at me.
“I’m afraid if I talk, I’ll cry.” She blows her hair from her face. “And I’m really tired of crying.”
Amen to that. Every time I think of Cooper I feel like I should drive to Costco and stock up on Kleenex.
“Are you and Warren going to be okay?” I bite at my lip, shifting till I’m under the covers. “Can I ask that?”
“Maybe,” she says, rolling to her back. “Probably. We’re just… well… I just need some time. Time will fix it.”
I can tell she’s still in no mood to talk about it, so I blow out a sigh and say, “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“You’re doing it.”
She builds her own fort of pillows and blankets and sinks into it. “Are you ready to talk?”
I snort. “I don’t want to cry either.”
“Maybe after we eat we can get through both our drama without the crying headaches.”
As terrified as I am to tell her about my visit with the doctor, I actually think it’s about time that I do.
“Holland?” I start, deciding I better tell her now before I lose my nerve. She perks her head up, her brows pulled in at whatever expression I’m donning. “I didn’t break up with Cooper just because I don’t want a family.”
The sheets rustle as she pushes herself upright. “Then why?”
Goodness, I have to keep the tears in or they won’t stop. “I can’t have kids.”
Her small little mouth pops open, her brows up in concern as her fingers twitch against her baby belly. I swallow hard, praying that I don’t let any jealousy seep into my voice as I tell her about the false positive, about the doctor visit, about the call I got a few days later confirming what they already knew.
“It’s okay, though,” I say when she can’t find anything to say. “If God picked a specific number of women who would never be mothers, then it’s good. I mean, it should be me. I never… I didn’t want…”
But I can’t finish that sentence. I can’t speak it out loud anymore because it’s not true. I saw them; for a brief moment, I saw kids in my future before that image was ripped away from me.
I bury my face into my palms, and I hear Holland move, feel the bed dip next to me and her arms wrap around my shoulders. Her baby bump presses into my side, and I feel horrible over the thoughts I had before. How I would look at her stomach and think she’d lost her mind, or she had no idea what she was getting into, or how she was going to regret that decision after the first dirty diaper. Now, all I want in the world is to be able to experience something as miraculous as carrying a child.
She holds me for a long time, her comfort only expressed through the hug and not words. I’m glad, because nothing can be said in a time like this to make it better. But her hug is doing wonders.
“What did Cooper say?” she asks, pulling back and fixing the hair she messed up while her arms were around me. “Did he… I mean, did he understand?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t.”
“Maya…”
“I know. I probably should have, but he… Holland, he wants kids so badly. And he’d be such a good dad, I couldn’t take that away from him. He’d stay with me out of obligation, and we’d grow old just me and him and I’d have to live with never being able to give him the life he really wanted.” I shake my head, a rogue tear falling from the tip of my nose. “No, I can’t do that.”
“He loves you,” she says, and I bring my eyes up to meet hers. “I think he’d be willing to give up kids for you, especially if you can’t—”
“That’s a big thing to give up. I… I am not worth it. I would never ask him to…” I drift off, tired already of the conversation, wishing I was as strong as she was with shoving away her problems. Cooper walked away; he left me because I wasn’t willing to budge, and neither was he.
A knock comes at the door, and we both turn to the voice saying, “Room service.” Holland pats my leg and gets up to let him in while I quickly wipe my eyes and shove everything away. Time will fix this, just like Holland said, even though so far, it’s done a terrible job of it.
26
Happy Family
Tap, tap, tap.
I whine in my sleep, slapping the side of the bed. “Kat, knock it off.” Little kitty is probably playing with the blinds cord again. One day I’m going to put in some nice wooden blinds so my fur babies can’t destroy them.
Tap, tap.
“Seriously, Kat!” I growl, and I fling myself over. My stomach jumps straight into my throat as I topple to the floor with a thud.
“I know karate!” Holland shouts as she sits up, her arms out and her eyes covered by a fuzzy blue nig
ht mask. I rub out the pain in my elbow from where I hit the ground and stifle my laughter at the both of us.
“Sorry,” I say, turning on the light as Holland slowly lifts her mask. “I thought I heard—”
Tap, tap.
A wrinkle appears above Holland’s nose. “Is someone knocking?”
I stare at the door, fumbling for the remote, the only weapon in my arsenal. “Grab your phone. Have 911 at the ready.”
“Maya…”
My toes creep across the run-down carpet, past the bathroom and the small closet. There’s an iron in there, I think. I can use that if the remote proves useless.
“Hello?” I test, pressing my eye up to the peephole. Blond hair is all I see, the man’s head dipped as he leans against the wall, his back moving up and down with what looks like labored breathing. The remote falls clean out of my hand, thudding against the floor as a gasp sucks into my throat.
“Who is it?” Holland hisses, her eyes wide, maybe a little hopeful even, but I’m too stunned to think straight.
“It’s… it’s my… Cooper.”
She blinks fast, then her mouth splits into a grin. “Answer it.”
“What?”
She chucks a pillow at me, and it somewhat jerks me out of my shock. “Open the door.”
My fingers pull at the handle, but the door only gets about an inch open as the chain catches it.
“Oh!” I squeal and slam the door closed to fix it and by the time I actually get it open, my face is a ripe tomato.
Cooper’s eyes meet mine, his hand slowly dropping from its place on the wall.
We don’t say anything for a good ten seconds.
“How…” I start. “How did you know I was—?”
“I can’t,” he says on an exhale. “I can’t do it, Maya. I can’t be without you.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Cooper…”
“No,” he says. He stands to his full height. “I’m not going to let you talk me out of it. I’m not going to let you push me away this time.”
I shake my head. “Nothing’s changed.”
