The Soul Mate

by Kendall Ryan

  No reason to be scared? I felt like she was the big bad wolf, blowing down my entire house of twigs and leaving nothing but a desolate patch of dirt in her wake. A whole plot of nothingness where not even a weed would grow. Mason’s face, crumpled and disappointed, flashed through my mind, but I forced myself to nod and listen to what she had to say next.

  “Now, it says on your chart that you’re not looking to conceive anytime soon, but we can still run some tests and see what’s going on. From there, we’ll know what our options are.”

  “And if I’m—” I started, then choked on the words and tried again. “If I can’t have a baby naturally, what are the options?”

  The doctor hugged her tablet to her chest, crossing her arms over the top of it. “Well, if there’s an issue, which there may not be, you might opt for an egg retrieval.”

  “What would that do?”

  “Essentially, we would freeze your eggs for surrogacy or in vitro fertilization, depending on the particular issue with conception.” The doctor nodded knowingly. “Also, now that you are thirty, it might be time to take conceiving a little more seriously. By thirty-six, your eggs could become geriatric, which would mean the option of freezing them would be off the table and, of course, any pregnancy you might have would be higher risk. It is six years away, but it’s something to think about if you’re serious about having children.”

  I nodded, trying to mask the heart-stopping panic oozing through my body like a disease. Taking a deep breath, I tried to speak, but the doctor held up a palm to stay me.

  “Look, Bren. I know this is a lot. Just remember that it could have just been a one-off. Sometimes stress or diet or even environment can have a lot to do with our cycles. I wouldn’t get too concerned about any of it just yet.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “Positive. Now, just to be on the safe side, I’m going to send in a nurse to get some samples for a fertility test, and I’ll call you within a week or so to let you know the results. Good news or bad, you’ll be hearing from me, so don’t worry when you see me on your call list.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” My sigh of relief stuck in my throat and I leaned back again, staring at the ceiling as she slipped from the room and a nurse re-entered.

  Closing my eyes, I waited as she explained the test to me. They already had a urine and blood sample, so the only thing they didn’t have from me at this point was a piece of my soul. Then again, depending on the news the doctor gave me next week, they might take a bit of that as well.

  When the nurse left, I got dressed quickly, then slipped from the room and ensured my copay was handled before sliding out of the practice and into the wide, silent atrium.

  This, I knew, would be the most daunting part of my trip—even more so than the doctor’s visit. Because, idiot that I was, I’d failed to notice that the doctor I’d scheduled my appointment with housed their offices just down the hall from Bentley Women’s Medicine.

  Of course, Mason would have already been in the office for hours by now, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking to walk past his etched glass double doors. And when the bell on the door chimed behind me after I’d walked by, my heart leapt into my throat.

  I debated whether to turn around and see my fate, but the decision was snatched from me when I heard a familiar, deep rumble of a voice behind me.

  “Bren, what are you doing here?” Mason asked and I turned around, heat already surging to my cheeks.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just heading out, actually. I didn’t mean to interrupt your day.”

  “I was just about to go for lunch, actually. You want to join me?”

  “Miss Matthews!” An airy female voice cut between us and I turned to find the nurse striding toward me with my jacket in her hand. “You left your coat,” she said, then gave a polite nod to Mason.

  “Dr. Bentley,” she said.

  “Hey, Marlene,” he said back, and then she turned on her heel and strode back to her office.

  Mason watched her for a long moment, then turned to face me, his gaze searching mine.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “I had a doctor’s appointment, that’s all.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” he asked. It didn’t take a genius to hear the hurt in his voice, like I’d betrayed him with some sort of sordid doctor switching affair, but I ignored it, squaring my shoulders as I took a deep breath.

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “There’s not much of anything you do want to talk about,” he shot back.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means if something is wrong, I have the right to know. When two people care about each other and are trying to form a relationship, they share things.”

  I shook my head. “All I do is disappoint you, Mason. There isn’t a baby tying us together anymore. Maybe it’s better if we just take a break.” I hoped he couldn’t hear the pain in my voice. All I wanted to do was run. Because I could already feel my heart starting to crack. And when it shattered, I might not ever make my way back from the agony. Better to glue it back together myself, make a clean break and pray it stayed knit together.

  “You don’t mean that. After the island and—”

  “What are you going to do? Charter a trip every time we’re reminded of our real life circumstances? We’d never leave the place,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

  He tried to grab for my arm, but I pulled away and strode toward the revolving doors, not bothering to turn when he called after me. I’d made myself clear and—most important of all—I knew if I turned and saw his face, I would never be able to leave again.

  But leaving was the right thing to do. Mason wanted children. I’d known it since the first moment I’d told him I might be pregnant, and even more so when we’d both been so let down when I wasn’t.

  And if I couldn’t have them? Then what kind of monster would I be for leading him on and denying him the one thing he wanted most of all?

  Biting back another swell of panic, I got in my car and drove to the one place I knew I’d be able to think through my options. The zoo was closed today as part of some conservationist holiday, but I knew that I’d be able to get in regardless.

  When I got there, the parking lot was empty save for one bright orange Fiat. Mandy’s car.

  Jangling my keys as I walked, I let myself in and headed to my friend’s office. It was empty.

  Odd.

  When she saw my car, there was no doubt she’d call, but for now I wanted to be alone anyway. Holding my breath, I made my way to the cheetah enclosure and stepped inside Cocoa and Nibs’s shelter. Except rather than a great lumbering dog and its friendly cheetah companion, I found Mandy with a cheetah on her lap as she stroked him.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  The cheetah didn’t bother looking up at me, but Mandy pursed her lips, never stopping her soft strokes on the animal’s head.

  “Nibs died this morning,” she murmured, her throat clogged with unshed tears.

  I blinked, the breath leaving me in a whoosh. “What? No, he was in perfect health.”

  Mandy shook her head. “It was sudden. Looks like he had leukemia and we didn’t see it.”

  My heart froze. “Poor Cocoa.”

  Mandy nodded. “We’re going to try and bring in a new dog, but…”

  She didn’t have to say the rest. We all knew what usually became of the cheetahs who lived without their dogs and the dogs who lived without their cheetahs. The depression could set in, making it harder for them to eat or function. And eventually? It was that depression that could kill them.

  I’d never felt more connected to one of the animals in the zoo in all my life. I had barely dodged this bullet with Mason myself and now, seeing this animal in so much pain, it was a much needed reminder that love fucking hurt.

  Who needed th
at in their life?

  Carefully I took a step toward Cocoa, and when she didn’t move, I began to stroke her in time with Mandy.

  “What brings you here on a holiday?” she asked. “I haven’t told anyone about Nibs yet.”

  “No, I just came to visit them. I had a couple of things I wanted to think over and I thought this might be a nice place to do it.”

  Mandy nodded. “So the doctor’s visit didn’t go well?”

  I sighed. “Not exactly.”

  “But they can’t tell you anything until they run the tests. So now you wait and wonder, right?”

  I nodded. “How’d you know?”

  She offered me a small, sad smile. “Because I’ve been there.”

  “You…?” I asked and she nodded.

  “A year after I got married, we decided we wanted to start a family, but…” She shrugged. “Well, things didn’t happen like we thought they would. It took us seven years and several miscarriages to conceive. It was awful at the time, obviously. I felt like I’d let my husband down.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mandy. I can’t believe you never told me,” I said.

  She shrugged. “It was a hard string of years, but it all worked out for us in the end.”

  I took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “Mason just wants a baby so damn bad.”

  “Is that what he said when you told him?”

  “No.” I didn’t meet her eyes, because deep down, I knew I was just using my questionable fertility to wall myself off from something that terrified me. Love. A future. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want to see his expression. Don’t want his pity.”

  “What about the sympathy?” Mandy asked.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Mandy said, then led Cocoa onto my lap and dusted herself off. “Look, I’ve got to get going. Make sure you lock up when you leave, all right?”

  I nodded, watching her go, but then she turned around again and said, “You can’t live your life in fear, kid.”

  “What if it’s the only thing distracting me from how my heart is breaking?” I asked, and her eyes turned soft.

  “Sometimes, you have to let it break. That’s the only way it’s going to heal. Like a hangnail. Rip it off and let the skin grow back.”

  I laughed, a hollow sound. “That’s a terrible metaphor.”

  “They don’t pay me to be a wordsmith.” She backed out of the enclosure, and I stared down at the cheetah in my lap for another long moment, stroking her fur as she mewled sadly.

  First I’d lost my father. Now I might have lost the chance to become a mother myself—the chance to ever have a family of my own that would be full and happy and complete.

  The impulse to languish and dissolve into my predicament, just like my mother had done, was strong, almost overwhelming. But then, my mother had allowed herself to dive into her grief, and what had it done for her? Even now, years later, she was letting life drift past her, unlived.

  Grieving was a process, not a life sentence and, no matter what the doctor said, I was going to have to face the facts of my father’s death and my own ability to be a mother.

  But I didn’t have to do it alone.

  Not for the first time, I thought of Mason that day in the sand, my hand in his as he asked me to be his wife. He’d booked a trip just for me. He’d gone out of his way over and over again for my sake.

  And what had I done for him? Nothing. I hadn’t even done him the courtesy of letting him know how I felt.

  That was something I could change, though.

  And for the first time in my life? I wanted to talk about it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mason

  This was it. The end of the line.

  After everything we’d been through—all the ways I’d thought fate had led her to me—Bren had walked away like I’d been nothing to her. Slowly, like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, I walked back into my office and asked my assistant to hold my calls until further notice.

  Then, when I was sure I was completely and totally alone, I slid open the top drawer of my desk and pulled out the ring box I’d gotten just this morning. Inside, the diamond solitaire sparkled up at me and I studied the intricate silver filigree of the band, all while trying my hardest not to toss the damn thing across the room. My stomach cramped and I let out a snarl.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  She’d given me every indication she wasn’t ready, throwing up flags in every shade of red on the color wheel. And I’d chosen to ignore them all. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the ring back in my desk and stalked toward the door. I couldn’t see patients today, not like this, and there was only one place I knew I could go to calm down.

  “Cancel my appointments. I’m not feeling well today,” I said to my assistant, then headed out the door and toward my car without looking a single person in the eye.

  Revving the engine, I pulled onto the interstate, following the familiar highway exits until I pulled up in front of the brick building I knew so well. The trees in front of the place swayed in the wind, and I glanced at them briefly. Then I made my way to the door and used the knocker.

  First once, then again, I raised the heavy gold handle and let it drop, waiting to hear footfalls on the other side of the door. On the third try, I finally heard the light pitter-patter of someone’s feet on the wood floor, so I took a step back and waited for my mother to open the door.

  When she did, there was no way I could hold back a moment longer.

  “I have to talk to you.”

  She led me inside, and before she’d even begun to pour the coffee I was admitting to the entire sordid tale. The way I’d looked for Bren after our one-night stand, the imagined pregnancy, the trip I’d planned. Even things most men might not admit to their mothers, I told her, if only so that she might unearth some small detail I’d overlooked so I could make things right.

  “Wow, this girl really seems like something,” my mother said when I was finally finished.

  “She’s not just something—she’s everything.”

  Mom smiled sadly. “That was a lot for one person to take in in one sitting. I didn’t know I was almost a grandma, after all.”

  I nodded. “I just don’t understand why she’d make an appointment with Marlene Thomas instead of me and then not tell me about it.”

  My mother raised her eyebrows. “That’s the part you can’t figure out?”

  “Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “Is there something else?”

  “Are you serious?” She took a long sip of her coffee, surveying me over the top of her mug. “Sometimes you really are your father’s son, you know that?”

  “I’m guessing that’s not a compliment given the impending divorce, huh?”

  My mother smiled. “Your father is kind and smart and funny in all the best ways. But when it comes to women…well, frankly, when he told me what he did for a living, I couldn’t believe it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, first of all, mister, isn’t it obvious why she didn’t come to you or tell you?” She pursed her lips, then began ticking off items on her fingers. “A thirty-year-old woman with irregular periods. What do you think she went to the doctor for?”

  I blinked. “I don’t…”

  “Then they shouldn’t have let you graduate from medical school,” she said with a warm smile that took the edge off. “I’ve been married to a doctor long enough to tell you what that girl was doing and I don’t even have a degree.”

  “You think it was a fertility thing?” I asked, flipping through the conversation with Bren in my mind as a cold ball of dread formed in my stomach. For the first time since I’d ran into her at my office, logic trumped emotion.

  “Well, if you had a patient with her background, what kind of tests would you run?”

  The truth of her words sank into my skin and I
sat back, thinking hard. “But, okay, even if she went for a fertility test, why wouldn’t she have come to me?”

  “The man whose baby she thought she was carrying not a week before? Hardly the natural choice, don’t you think? You told her you were disappointed about not having a baby. Do you think she wanted to make you the person who told her she might never have a baby?”

  My breath caught in my chest and, slowly, I shook my head. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  “That’s the way it is.” My mother set her coffee down on the table between us, then rested back against the sofa cushions. “So, sweetheart, it makes complete sense why she went to Dr. Thomas.”

  “But that’s not the part I should be wondering about?”

  She shook her head.

  “Care to enlighten me, oh wise one?” I asked.

  She folded her hands together. After letting out one long breath, she said, “Haven’t you wondered what’s going on in this girl’s head that every time you get close to her, she freaks out and runs away?”

  “Well, she told me she got weird about intimacy.”

  “Yes, but why? What do you know about her past? Any boyfriends who left her? If her parents’ relationship was bad?”

  “Shit.” Icy realization crept down my spine. The most important relationship a woman had was with her father. Bren had lost hers at a young age, before she’d matured into a successful adult and long before she was ready. I couldn’t even imagine what it felt like to lose a parent, especially during those angsty teenage years.

  Mom continued on. “I imagine you told her about my cancer and the divorce, but she never reciprocated at all?”

  I blinked, trying to focus in on my mother’s words in a way that might force them to make sense. “She lost her father,” I finally uttered.

  Mom nodded. “She has a fear of abandonment. My suggestion is to go to her. The longer you let her stew in her thoughts, the more she’s going to convince herself she did the right thing by leaving you. Whatever is making her run isn’t going away anytime soon. In order to open her warm, loving center, you’re going to need to peel away her fear layer by layer. If she’s worth it, you have to try.”