Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mia

With Brad at work, I was able to think a little more clearly. When he was around, it was all sex all the time. We had managed to eat and even sleep a little, but we had yet to talk about the pact. He hadn’t brought up marriage or anything of the sort. I wasn’t sure if he had changed his mind or if he was afraid to bring it up after my reaction last time.

Last time, he had definitely taken me by surprise, but now I wanted to hear him out. I had come to realize how much I wanted the same things he did. I didn’t think it was just the baby fever that had come on out of nowhere. My biological clock was certainly influencing my change of heart, but it was more than that. I was tired of the single life and going home to an empty condo every night. I didn’t even have a plant to take care of. I could feel my maternal instinct stirring to life. I needed someone to care for.

I wanted Brad to bring it up. I was far more open to the idea now. If we could hammer out a few details, I felt like we had a chance. The sex with him had been amazing. He was an easy-going guy, but once we stepped into the bedroom, he was a different man. I loved how demanding he was. I loved being able to relax and let him take control. All I had to do was sit back and let him pleasure me over and over. No woman could hate that.

I was leaving on Sunday, though. We had to talk. I wanted to do it in person. This wasn’t something that could be talked about over the phone or via text.

It was after eight when my phone beeped to let me know I had a text. It was from Brad. He wanted me naked and waiting, again. That wasn’t going to happen, not until we talked. I put on one of my new outfits, a little bummed I hadn’t gotten the chance to wear it out. I had worn almost nothing since I had landed on Wednesday night. I did get to wear one of the new lingerie sets I had picked out with my mother, though. Brad had been very appreciative.

When he walked through the door carrying more takeout, he scoffed.

“You’re not naked,” he immediately pointed out.

I laughed. “Observant.”

He held up the bags of food. “I brought dinner.”

I nodded my head. “I can see that. Looks like you cook about as much as I do.”

“What’s up? You have that look on your face that tells me I’m not going to get to spread you out on that table and have my way with you,” he said in a gruff voice.

That made me smile. “I’m not saying that at all. I am saying we need to talk first.”

He groaned and put the food in the kitchen before coming to sit at the table across from me. “I think I know what this is about,” he muttered.

“Let’s have dinner at the table, and with our clothes on so we can talk,” I said with a smile, hoping to put him at ease.

He nodded and grabbed a couple plates out of a cupboard. Once we had dished up our food and sat down, he looked at me, waiting for me to start.

“The pact,” I said, hating the word.

“The pact. Are you sure you want to talk about this?”

“Yes. We need to. I mean, that’s what brought us together. It’s kind of hanging over our heads. Are you still serious about it?”

He gulped down some water. “I am. Are you willing to consider it?”

I felt my heart kick up a beat. “Yes.”

His expression changed from one of dread to one of hope. “Wow. Good. I mean, that’s awesome.”

“Brad, we have to figure out the logistics though. We both have thriving careers. I don’t see how either one of us can pick up and move.”

“I was willing to do just that. I applied for the only job I could find out there, but I got shot down,” he mumbled.

“You did?” I asked in surprise. “When did you do that? I didn’t know you were even considering it.”

He smiled. “I told you when I was there that I was serious. Mia, I want this to work between us. We’re compatible. We get along and you cannot deny that we are fucking amazing together in the sex department.”

I felt a blush coming on and quickly calmed myself down. “I guess I didn’t realize you were already trying. That’s great. I’m so excited for you to live back in New York.”

He was shaking his head. “I said I tried, but I didn’t get the job. I can’t move without a job lined up. You’re going to have to move here.”

I blinked. “What?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “You’ll have to move here. You can move in with me, or we can find you your own place to rent for a while if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Brad!”

“What?”

“Are you serious? I can’t even believe you right now!”

“Are you mad?” he asked as if it were the craziest notion possible.

“Yes!”

He looked at me as if he truly didn’t understand why I was pissed. “Mia, you said you wanted to talk about the pact. Throw me a bone here. What’s going on?”

I stood up, needing to pace. “You are the one who chased me down. You are the one who brought up the pact and wanted to make it happen. Now you expect me to give up everything and move to LA to be with you? You get to stay in your home and at your comfy job while I’m forced to get in the unemployment line and house hunt?” I shrieked.

“Why was it okay for me to do that, but when I ask you to do it, it’s the end of the world?”

“Because you started this!”

I knew I sounded ridiculous. He had a point. I wasn’t thinking rationally. I took a deep breath, waiting for him to respond.

“Mia, I want this to work. I do, but I can’t live in New York if I don’t have a job. I’m not going to be a mooch.”

“Brad, my mom is in New York. I can’t leave my mom. The fashion world is in New York City. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love if I moved,” I said, feeling defeated.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I feel the same way about my job. I don’t know who I am without the radio. This marriage pact, it means something. We made a promise to each other a long time ago, and I’m serious about keeping it. It’s important,” he stressed.

“It was just something that was said on a night with too much alcohol. It isn’t important.”

He shook his head. “I meant it then and I mean it now. I don’t offer to marry everyone, and I don’t want to marry anyone else. I want to marry you.”

“I don’t think that really matters. Marriage is a mutual decision. I can’t get my head around the idea of marrying someone because of a drunken promise.”

He smirked. “I think about half the marriages I’ve heard about are because of drunken promises.”

I rolled my eyes. “My point exactly—made and broken once the shine wears off. Is that really what you want?”

“No, it isn’t, and it doesn’t have to be with us. We’ve known each other for almost twenty years. That is longer than most marriages. That has to mean something. We have what it takes to make it.”

I sighed. I wanted to believe his words, but the more practical side of me realized it was all a fantasy. “I don’t think we do,” I said softly. “I don’t want to end up hating each other.”

We both went silent, lost in our own thoughts. I laid my head on the table, covering it with my arms. I figured I may as well get everything out on the table. If we were going to even try to make it work, I wanted to do it with complete honesty.

“Brad, I’m suffering from baby fever,” I blurted out.

I looked up to judge his reaction. “You have what?”

“Baby fever. It’s the whole biological-clock thing. I’m running out of time to have a child. It’s making me a little crazy. I was fine until you showed up in my life and reminded me of all the things I had said I wanted. I was okay, and then you dangled the idea like a carrot in front of me. I didn’t think I cared. Then you left and a girl at work got pregnant, and now I’m freaking out.”

He was smiling as he extended his hand, gesturing for me to go to him. I did as he wanted, walking around the table to stand next to his chair. He grabbed me around the waist before pulling me onto his lap. I felt silly and completely ridiculous. I sat stiffly on his lap.

“Mia,” he murmured.

“What?”

His arms pulled me against his chest. “Relax.”

I scoffed. “I can’t relax. You put me on this speeding train and now I don’t know how to get off or whether I want to get off. You really threw a wrench in my life,” I said.

He chuckled. “Good. If you want babies, I’ll give you babies.”

His mouth moved to my neck, gently nuzzling it. I could feel myself relaxing into him. It felt good to be in his arms. It felt too good. It was then I realized something horrible.

I loved him. He had made me fall in love with him all over again, and he didn’t feel the same. He wanted my body and my companionship, but love was not part of the equation. I couldn’t do that. I wanted more. I wanted to feel loved and be loved. Sex was great, and having a warm body beside me in bed every night would be nice, but I wanted it all. I couldn’t settle.

“No,” I said, sitting up and pushing away.

His arms pulled me close again. “Come on, we both want the same thing. We’re great together,” he cajoled.

I shoved back and freed myself from the arms he had clamped around me.

“You don’t know what I want,” I mumbled, feeling trapped.

“Mia, you just told me you want kids. I do, too. Are you saying you don’t want to get married?”

I looked at him, wanting to shake him. How could he be so oblivious? I wasn’t going to spell it out.

“I think we both know that is stupid. This has been fun, but the real world is waiting for us. I had a good time. I’m glad we’re friends again,” I said, almost choking on the word. “We can still text and keep in touch, but that’s probably as much as I can offer.”

He was shaking his head, and I knew he was frustrated. I was hot and cold and just a total mess. I had thought I wanted to marry him and have the kids and the house. I couldn’t say exactly when it happened, but somewhere over the past few days, something had changed. I had fallen in love with him, and meanwhile, he was hung up on a no-feelings-attached marriage pact.

“Mia, I don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t like games. I’m not going to be your yo-yo,” he said, clearly frustration.

I shrugged a shoulder. “Then don’t be.”

I walked out and headed for the spare bedroom. Once again, our time together was ending on a sour note. He was right; games were for kids.