Bren

 

“Guess who brought donuts.”

Mandy’s chipper singsong echoed through the front hall of my apartment and I grimaced, groaning to let her know where I was before shoving my pillow over my face.

Lord knew I wasn’t in shape for company—I was barely in shape to be around myself.

Ever since I’d left Mason’s last night, I hadn’t been able to think about anything other than what a complete and total ass I’d been and the sheer, utter terror that had filled my heart as soon as I’d realized what our hot, passionate moment of fun had become.

Together.

Not that Mandy would understand.

In her mind, everything was rainbows and puppy dogs and every chance at love ought to be snatched up and savored—at least, that was the only way I could figure she’d gotten married so young. But that was just it. She was married. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, what a risk it was to take a chance on someone nowadays. It was a jungle out here.

A gentle knock sounded on my wooden bedroom door and I croaked for her to come in, though I didn’t bother to drag the pillow from over my face. Distantly, I heard the rustle of her donut bag and caught the savory, sweet smell of my favorite hazelnut latte.

“If that’s what I think it is, you’re a goddess,” I muttered.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” There was a little thunk and I peeked through the small space between my comforter and pillow to see her setting a tray of drinks on my nightstand before she poked me in the stomach. “It’s ten thirty,” she said with a disapproving click of her tongue.

“So?” I grumbled. “It’s Sunday.”

“Which means you should already have gone on your run and come back by now.”

“I can’t run. I’m pregnant,” I argued.

“You don’t know that,” she shot back with a chuckle. “And besides, I’m pretty sure pregnant people are allowed to run.”

“It’ll wiggle the baby. Or something,” I said stubbornly, pushing the covers off me. Any excuse not to run was just fine by me.

“If your new boyfriend taught you that, then I have some bad news about his credentials as a doctor. Now come on, get up and have a donut with me.”

Grumbling to myself, I propped a few pillows between my back and the headboard, then grabbed for the cup with my name on it.

“Is this caffeine-free?” I asked suspiciously.

“Yup.” Mandy nodded. “Who knows? The caffeine might—what was the medical term you used? Ah, yes. It might ‘wiggle the baby.’ We’d hate to have that happen.” She rolled her eyes, then took her own cup from the cardboard carrier and brought it to her lips.

I took a sip of hazelnut goodness, sighing at the comforting heat before meeting my friend’s questioning gaze.

“So, spill. What’s the real reason you’re still in bed?” she asked.

“Jeez, can’t a girl sleep in every now and then?” I muttered.

“A girl can. Just not you.” Mandy raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t have morning sickness or anything, right?”

I shook my head. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Mason stuff?” Mandy pressed.

“Wow, three seconds after I wake up and I’m already being interrogated.” She waited expectantly and I knew she wasn’t going to get off my back unless I told her, so finally I blurted, “Fine, yes, if you must know. Mason stuff.”

“What happened? He confessed his love?” Mandy asked, taking another nonchalant sip of her coffee.

“What? No.” My cheeks flamed as renewed terror consumed me. “God, what would make you say that?”

“Because that’s always when I find you in bed like this,” Mandy shot back.

“I’ve never done this before,” I said, taking another sip from my cup and glaring at her.

“Haven’t you?” she sniffed. “What about two years ago with that Venezuelan guy…what was his name? Don?”

I rolled my eyes again. “That was nothing. He moved way too fast. Buying me a new computer for my birthday? Who did he think he was, fucking Christian Grey, for crying out loud? Take it easy, am I right?” I asked with a snort.

Mandy frowned. “And Devon from work?”

“That wasn’t even a thing,” I protested. “We went on three dates.”

“Until he told you how gorgeous you were in the moonlight and you wigged out and told him you never wanted to see him again.”

“What?” I scowled at her through narrowed eyes. “Who told you that?” I recalled specifically not detailing that little breakup to her because I knew she’d judge me over it.

Maybe because you deserve her judgment? a little voice in my head whispered. I wanted to fire that damn voice of reason and tell it to get lost.

“He did,” Mandy said. “I was waiting for you to finish your evening rounds and he was on his way out. He stopped and asked me what he’d done to turn you into a psycho.”

A psycho?

Ouch.

“And what did you tell him?” I asked, my stomach feeling queasy.

“That you have a habit of picking guys you can’t get emotionally attached to and he shouldn’t take it personally. You’re just broken inside.” She shrugged as if spilling my personal dirt to the world meant nothing.

“Jesus, Mandy. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I always do. That’s why you keep me around,” she said with a smug smile. “Don’t get me wrong, though. I still love you.”

“Good, because you’re wrong,” I said.

She laughed. “Is that so? So, you’re going to tell me the Mason thing that has you lying in bed like an invalid has nothing to do with the fact that you maybe actually like him and he tried to get close to you?”

“I let him get close to me,” I said. “We…did some stuff that was—”

Scary.

“Romantic,” I finished.

“Okay, so did he then introduce you to his toenail collection? Or punch you in the face?”

“Well, no…”

“Did he drop to one knee and ask you to marry him? Because that might be rushing things and that I could see,” she said, taking a big bite of a chocolate glazed donut and chewing while she waited for my response.

“Not exactly.” But it was close. “He offered me a drawer.”

“A drawer?”

“Yeah, you know, like to leave stuff at his place or whatever,” I said, trying not to fidget as she stared me down.

“Oh my God. Did you call the police? Get a restraining order?” she demanded, eyes wide in faux shock.

“Okay, okay, I hear it now as I say it out loud. Not that big of a deal,” I admitted, which sent her off into a fit of laughter.

“Not a big deal at all. Especially since you agreed to spend some time with him and slept with him. Which only goes to prove my point that you have commitment issues. After all, you’re lying in your own bed instead of his right now.”

“It’s complicated,” I tried again.

“It’s not. You like him but you’re doing what you always do. You know, I’ve been handling this with kid gloves for a long time now, but considering everything with the baby, I think it’s time for some tough love, kid.”

“Meaning what?” I asked, inwardly cringing at what I knew would come next.

“It’s time to face facts. You are not your mother.”

“I know that,” I shot back reflexively.

“Do you?” she challenged me. “Because last I checked, you were still emotionally closed off. You know, just because you love someone doesn’t mean you have to be in constant fear of losing them or that, if you do, you will never be able to grieve and find a new normal again. What happened with your dad—”

“I get your point,” I said. “But I don’t agree with you. It might look that way, maybe, from the outside, but I don’t think that’s the problem. I just don’t like being rushed.”

“Fine, you want to prove you’re not closed off? Let’s take it to the Lady’s Journal.” She whipped her phone out of her pocket and thumbed the screen menacingly.

I raised my eyebrows. “What’s a magazine going to tell us about whether I’m emotionally available? I mean, you’re an amazing friend. You know that I’m there for you emotionally, right? I’m not a person who doesn’t know how to love or something.”

“For me, yes.” Mandy nodded. “But with men, it’s another story, and last month’s personality quiz, ‘Are You an Ice Princess?,’ is going to prove it.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Really? An ice princess?”

“Their words, not mine.”

“Gee, thanks. I’m starting to think you only brought the donuts to soften the blow here.” I dug in the brown bag and pulled out a glazed confection, then closed my eyes to focus on the sugary goodness in the hope of blocking out the carbohydrate carrying torture I’d just invited inside my private sanctuary.

“If I did, then it only goes to show how my master plan is working.” She cleared her throat. “Okay, now, question one. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?” she asked.

“The last time I called my mother. So, a week ago,” I said with not a little triumph.

She gave me the dead eyes and shook her head slowly. “Your mother obviously doesn’t count.”

“Where is that in the question?” I challenged her.

“It goes unspoken. Now, come on, get serious.” Mandy shot back.

“Isn’t this multiple choice?” I groaned.

“Not for you, it isn’t. Stop stalling.”

“What if I told you I love you right now?” I tried, desperate.

Mandy rolled her eyes. “A man, then. When was the last time you told a man you loved him?”

I bit down on my bottom lip. Before he died, I used to tell my father I loved him nearly every day. It had been one of the most important rules of growing up in my family. The world was a crazy place and anything could happen, so before it did, you made sure you told the people you loved that you loved them often and loudly. Before I left the house, whenever I called, whenever I went to bed, I told him. And then, when he’d gotten sick, those words had become a plea.

“I love you, Dad” became “Please don’t go” or “Don’t leave us.”

And for my mother? She could hardly speak without bursting into tears during that time.

My own eyes burned as I shoved the memory away.

“Hello?” Mandy cleared her throat again. “You there?”

“Just thinking. I don’t think this question counts for me. What if I have never been in love?”

Mandy pursed her lips. “Seems like a cop-out.”

“Fine, fine. So, I told a boy in middle school that I loved him. I think that was the last time if you’re not counting, you know, my dad or anything,” I rushed through the second half of my sentence but it didn’t matter—Mandy knew me too well to let it pass unnoticed.

“You haven’t told a man you loved him since before your father died?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe we should move on to the next question.”

“Fine.” Mandy glanced down at her phone, clicked something, then read, “How many dates does it take before you share personal details about your past?”

“I already told Mason about my past. He knows what my favorite childhood toy was and everything.”

“Then he already knows about your mom and dad?” Mandy asked.

“Well, that’s not fair. The specifics of it haven’t really come up.”

“Really? There was never an opening for you to tell him—the man who might be the father of your child—about your family? Not a single moment?”

I focused aggressively on my donut and licked at a bit of the glaze. “I don’t think I like this pushy side of you.”

“I’m your boss.”

“Only at work,” I reminded her. “And I don’t think it’s that important for Mason to know all my baggage so quickly. It’s good to keep a little bit of mystery.”

“Meaning you don’t know any of his?”

I thought back to our night—the way he’d spoken about his mother’s illness, the way some of his dreams had been snatched from him. “I know some of his history. I don’t know that it counts as baggage.”

“Right. So I’m guessing you want to skip this question too?” Mandy asked.

I took another bite of my donut, then washed it down with some latte. “I’m seriously not digging your tone.”

Mandy shrugged. “You’ll live. Now, come on, question three. How comfortable are you with sexual intimacy?”

“What kind of question is that?” I scoffed.

“A good one,” Mandy said. “Now answer it.”

“Well, I’ve already slept with him, so that sort of speaks for itself.”

“It doesn’t say how comfortable are you with sexuality. It says sexual intimacy,” she pointed out.

“You know what? This quiz is stupid. You know me,” I pleaded. “I’m not an ice princess.”

“I see we’ve struck a nerve. Does this have anything to do with why you’re still lying in bed?”

I took a sip of my coffee, opting not to answer.

Again, though, Mandy outsmarted me. “So you got intimate with him again and it was too much for you? Just say it.”

“It wasn’t that,” I said, and the words poured from me like water breaking through a dam. “I told you. He wanted to give me a drawer at his place and after everything that’s happened, it’s just not something I’m ready for. I mean, I might have to get ready to be a mother. I don’t think I can really handle falling in love on top of everything else. There’s too much happening.”

“So you think you’re falling in love?” Mandy asked.

I set my coffee down, then leaned back against my pillows before huffing out a sigh. “That’s not the point. The point is that I’m overwhelmed and he keeps pushing for more. I could have handled myself better but—”

“But you think you’re falling for him?” Mandy asked again.

I leveled her with a stare. “I don’t think. I know.”

“And that scares you?”

“Scares me? It terrifies me.” I shook my head. “But that’s still not the important part. Mandy, what if I really am pregnant? I’ll love my baby more than life itself. And if I love him, too – think about how much that is for someone like me to lose.”

She closed her hand over mine and offered a gentle smile. “Then I’ll remind you again. You’re not your mother. And even if you were? Would it be so bad?”

I picked up my coffee, lost for words. “I’m done with this quiz.”

Yup. Ice Princess it is. I may not admit it to Mandy but I have to admit it to myself. Now I have to figure out what to do with that knowledge.

“Fine,” Mandy said. “But just…remember what we talked about, okay? The next time you see Mason?”

I nodded. “I will.”

If there was a next time, at least. Because I was pretty sure if poor Devon thought I was a psycho, Mason had at least as much reason. If fact, I was starting to wonder if he’d ever want to talk to me again.

But what was even more worrisome was how awful that thought made me feel…

Broken and a little lost inside.