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It was only after the miscarriage that Aaron and I found out the sex of the baby. He cried harder when he realized it was a boy. We both cried, really, for what felt like weeks on end. He was in pain himself, but he was my rock at that time. I had no one else to talk to – Lori was pregnant herself and I knew it had to be in poor taste to cry to her about it. So I didn’t. Sofia was understanding, but I knew it tortured her that she didn’t know what to say or how to make me stop crying. I knew also that it was hard for her to listen to the details because while she knew what miscarriage was, she didn’t know exactly how it happened.
Neither had I before it did. No one had ever told me that I could lose my baby, know he was gone and still have to wait to pass him through my body. No one told me what it felt like to carry something lifeless inside you, nor did they talk about the bleeding – just how much there was during and even after the fact. But worst of all, no one warned me about how hard I would hang onto the memory of that last good ultrasound. I could still hear it if I wanted to. At ten weeks, my baby was still bobbing happily inside my belly. His heart was still beating and the whole world was still ahead of him.
But then just a couple days later, he was gone. And I was inconsolable.
Aaron did his best though. In fact, he did an incredible job. He got permission to leave the office an hour early every day so he could spend as much time with me as possible. We named our son, bought him a blanket and said our goodbyes to get closure. And from that point forward, I felt like Aaron and I were a team. Together, we’d gotten through the lowest point of our lives and grown a million times stronger as not just individuals, but as a couple. Those who did know about my miscarriage told me I was lucky to have the support I had from Aaron. Losing the life inside you was hard enough on its own. It would be harder without having someone so reliably there for you.
And I knew that was true.
“But I still felt completely out of love with him,” I cried softly, confessing the words to Mason that I was so ashamed of. “After all we went through and all he did for me, I still didn’t feel right with him. I should have been appreciating him and thanking God for him, but all I could do was hate the fact that I didn’t leave him when I had the chance because then I could have avoided all the pain. I wouldn’t have to know what all of it felt like,” I sobbed, loathing myself. My baby had already lost his chance at the world – he didn’t need to know that his mother wished he’d never happened at all. It was selfish and pointless and painful, and I did my best to repent for those thoughts by being good to Aaron. By staying with him, reminding myself of how good he was and suffocating all thoughts of regret. I did it so well for awhile. I convinced myself we were perfect.
But then I woke up one morning and he was gone.
“Hey.” Mason’s whisper was intense, pleading as he cupped my face in his hands. “Don’t blame yourself for this, Taylor. You can’t,” he urged me, thumbing the tears that streamed incessantly down my cheeks. “I’m sorry.” His voice was filled with emotion I didn’t know existed anywhere in that rock solid body. “I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you. I don’t know the pain. I never will but I remember the nights my mother cried. I’ll never forget how hard it was and I’d give anything to take those memories away from her. From you. But we can’t rewind on the past and trust me, I fucking hate it, too,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. My eyes were shut but his lips were close. I could feel them
– almost taste them and it soothed me. Not completely, but enough for the tears to slow down. They finally stopped, but Mason kept my cheek in his hands and his fingers brushed through my hair. “We face probably a hundred forks in the road over the course of our lives and I guarantee you no one has ever lived to make the right decision every time. But you can’t get the past back and you can’t spend your life wishing you could. You just have to trust that if you’re not in the right place right now, the steps you take from this point forward will get you there.” He wet his lips when I finally met his gaze again. “Eventually, at least. Right?”
Staring at my hands on his chest, I nodded, surprised to find his simple words lifting the weight in my chest. “I think so.”
He nodded, quiet for a moment, studying me as I let the hiccups pass and breathe deep again. When the calm returned, I looked up at Mason, remembering the last time I had cried in front of him. It was in my apartment, after processing the news of Aaron’s wedding. Mason had barely looked at me as the tears rolled down my cheeks, only concerned with getting his chance to speak once I was done being needy and emotional. God, it really wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like the Mason then was the stranger to me – not the Mason sitting before me now, stroking my cheek and brushing any strands of hair from my face that had matted to my skin from the tears.
“Thank you,” I whispered, realizing as the words came out that it was my first time saying them to Mason in person, and meaning it with every ounce of me, from the bottom of my heart. It felt like a little turning point for us, and maybe he realized it too because he looked at me in a way I’d never seen before. It couldn’t pin what the expression was, but it made me feel damned good. Warm and safe. Almost loved. Sliding my hands up on his body, I hung them on his strong shoulders. “I didn’t think I’d ever say any of that out loud to someone. And I don’t know why but I’m actually…” I trailed off, hoping I hadn’t set my sentence up to sound like an insult. “I’m actually glad it was you,” I finally murmured. But then I winced. That sounded wrong. I kept my eyes down for a moment, bracing for Mason’s smart reply.
But when I looked up again, he kissed me. His lips were so hot against mine I promptly lost every other thought I had a moment ago. I was more than fine with that. My arms around his neck, I kissed Mason back, moaning softly against his lips, luxuriating in the strength of both his arms wrapped so tight around my waist it felt like I was somewhere else – on our own island, the only ones who were breathing this air, the only one ones who could come close to understanding the gratification of the moment. He’d kissed me the other night at Noah’s but this felt different – just as urgent but somehow softer. Easier. My body melted into his and I felt an odd sense of being okay, of belonging – as if I, for the first time in a long time, were finally and actually in the right place.
Chapter Thirteen
I felt oddly superstitious about it, but the next morning, I told Sofia the truth about everything. I had the green light from Mason and even if I didn’t, I couldn’t bear to keep her in the dark anymore. After all the demons that came out last night at the Victorian Hotel, it felt like I’d reached a breaking point and I couldn’t stand for anything but honesty anymore. At least with the ones I loved.
And to my absolute relief, Sofia wasn’t angry.
Curled up with two mugs of coffee at the café under her East Village apartment, we touched on every point of my arrangement with Mason with very little fanfare, which was surprising considering Sofia liked to gasp, squeal and flail around about everything. But there was none of that today. After taking a quiet moment to finally let it all sink in, she only said, “This explains a lot of Noah’s comments.”
I had to laugh. “What has he said?”
Sofia squinted as she sipped her spiced latte. “God, I can’t even remember now. So many things here and there – like how Mason ‘screwed himself’ or how he’s ‘actually whipped now. I don’t know. Basically a lot of surprise over Mason’s behavior, which is clearly a good thing for you,” Sofia snorted. “Considering Mase’s history with women and the fact that his best friend of ten years doesn’t recognize the way he’s acting with you right now, I’d say you guys are a little realer than you think,” she said, grinning and pointing at the look on my face. “And you’re clearly happy about that because like I said even before I knew the truth, you really like that motherfucker. Like, beyond the physical. You like him, like him.”
I couldn’t even make fun of Sofia’s elementary school terms for my feelings because it was fucking true. Geez. When and how did this happen? If I could transport myself back in the past and tell myself that one day, I’d be thinking all day about Mason Leo, missing him and aching for the comfort it felt like only he could provide, I’d tape my own mouth shut and call myself a filthy liar. Then again, if I could transport myself into the past, I’d probably have bigger priorities, like saying “no” to a break from Aaron and suggesting a full on breakup.
But as we touched on that subject, Sofia corrected me. “If you’d broken up with Aaron then, you would’ve never had the chance to discover that Mason was the good brother. The one you were supposed to be with.”
I chewed on the corner of my nail. “Let’s… not talk too far into the future. I’m definitely enjoying myself with Mason right now but you can’t let me get swept up off my feet and think about a serious or long-term relationship with him. My stomach gets all weird and twisty when I even start to fantasize about that.”
“But we already established that he’s never acted this way with any woman before. He was with Eva Tully for six months and she said the longest conversation about his life that she ever squeezed out of him lasted like three minutes. And he was just talking about the first Yankees game he went to as a kid, because they were at a Yankees game,” Sofia revealed. “Trust me, that woman complained extensively to me about him before she got dumped and decided to trash his office and draw giant dicks on his door.”
I laughed at the imagery in my head but I couldn’t help but feel bad for Eva. “Six months dating someone and not being let in. That’s tough.”
“Yeah, well she stuck it out because she liked the idea of becoming Mrs. Mason Leo. And I get it – who wouldn’t? He’s got money and he’s handsome.”
“That’s… wow. A severe understatement.”
Sofia smirked. “I’m sure that’s true and I realize you’re all defensive of your boyfriend now,” she teased, “but cut me some slack, he’s my cousin and I don’t see him the way you thirst hos do. Besides, you’re detracting from my point, which is that he’s gone many years knowing exactly what works for him in terms of dating. I know it seems like he goes through women like they’re snotty tissues or something, but it’s just because he refuses to lead anyone on or get in a relationship, lose interest and wind up cheating. Not after what he saw his mom through growing up.”
“So what are you telling me here? That I have permission to ask him if he wants to date me for real? If we’re still going to see each other after the wedding?”
I had hoped that Sofia would give me a resounding “yes” and demand what I was waiting for, but instead she crinkled her nose and tilted her head from side to side as she thought about it. “No, don’t do that yet,” she finally concluded. “Sit-down talks freak men out no matter what they’re thinking or how they’re feeling, so I’d avoid one of those till you’ve gone through a little more. At least get past the St. Lucia trip before you have that conversation.”
I heaved a sigh. “Fair enough.”
