“Christ, Anna. I’m so sorry.” I shake my head in disbelief. “That’s not good enough.”
“That’s life.”
“Bullshit,” I snap. She watches me, wordless, as I try to rein in my emotions.
I clench my jaw, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat. It wasn’t until I was in my mid-thirties that I realized I didn’t want to be a father. The difference is, Casey and I had never really spoken about starting a family—at least not in any way that mattered. She was too busy chasing the next party or shopping, and I was too wrapped up in my work and trying to salvage something that was already broken. By the time I pulled away from her, she saw a baby as a quick fix. A way to keep me tied to her. In her eyes, a child was a solution. To me, it was a life sentence. That’s when I knew it was over.
But Mason? I’m surprised.
Annahasalways been honest about wanting kids. This isn’t some whim she’s suddenly landed on.
I sympathize with Mason for not wanting to be a father—what I can’t get my head around is watching someone you love plan and lay out your whole future, knowing you’ll nevergive it to them. He’s kept his feelings from her foryears, and that pisses me off.
“So, what are you going to do?”
She shrugs, attempting a smile. “Question of the century, isn’t it?”
“And you,” I say, emphasizing my point. “How are you?”
“I’m generally doing well. I have my good days and my bad days… I’m sure we’ll get through this. It’s all very new. I just need to consider what’s more important to me. I’m trying not to let it take over my life at the moment or ruin our marriage.”
“It’s a big decision, Anna.”
“I agree. It is a big decision. Which is why I need some time. We might be able to work on it yet.”
“I’m a phone call away. You know that, right? And if you ever need a space to stay…”
I don’t finish my sentence. She knows I’d do anything for her. My home is her home, and I mean it. I’d do anything for Anna.
She shoots me a grateful smile. “I know, thank you.” She perks up suddenly. “Oh! Speaking of big decisions…”
I know exactly where this is going.
“Don’t,” I warn. She has that look in her eye, that cunning expression she gets when she’s up to something. And I can already guess the words that are about to come out of her mouth.
“You need to pick Gemma and Henry for the campaign.”
I roll up the damp tea towel and flick it at her thigh. She yelps, dancing out of reach. “Nice way to change the subject.”
“You have to do what I say. I’m sad. Pick Gemma and Henry.”
“Don’t give me the guilt trip.”
“Why not?”
I sling the tea towel over my shoulder and place my hands on my hips. “Because that’s not how life works.”
“But Gemma and Henry’s pitch was amazing, right?” she says, her eyes glazing over.
“Yes. It was,” I say, my patience thinning.
“Then you know they’re the right team for the job. You want the best. Well,they’rethe best.” She sticks out her bottom lip in a ridiculous pout. The little shit.
“I’m serious. Stop it, Anna,” I say. The corner of my mouth twitches, threatening to blow my cover.
Her eyes go wide and watery. Jesus Christ.
“I’m just so sad,” she says, forcing a croak in her voice. “Please make me happy.”
