Ready for You (Ready #3)(64)

“It’s summer. That’s a horrible excuse.”

“I just don’t want to.”

Her leg slid up mine. That got my attention.

I lifted my head and found her giving me her best rendition of the pouty face and I knew I was going to cave.

“Okay, fine! But we’re taking a shower first—a really long, sexy shower. Then, you’re making me coffee.”

She agreed, and I carried her from the bed into the bathroom where we spent much too long doing things other than washing.

I was a big fan of shared showers.

Leaving Mia to dry off in the bathroom, I went into the bedroom to find her lotion. I’d made a habit of always being around when she put it on, so I could take over, but I had no idea where she stored it when I wasn’t slathering it all over her body. She always pulled it out of some magical female hiding spot, and I had yet to figure out where that was.

Not wanting to bother her, I checked the top of her dresser and the highest drawer, knowing she stored a few things in there. Then, I looked in the top of her antique vanity. Finally, I decided it must be in the nightstand. Pulling the drawer open, I found it lying on top of a stack of old photos.

The lotion suddenly forgotten, I picked up the large pile and started thumbing through. There were pictures of us from every single school dance, football games, and even the two of us with my parents.

I squeezed my eyes shut at the sight of my father. I had finally found solace through my turbulent journey with Mia, and he wasn’t here to see it. He’d loved her like a daughter and struggled when she left so suddenly. When I’d refused to give answers, he’d retreated from me for a while. I thought he’d assumed something close to the truth, or he had known it from my mother and had been hurt that I didn’t come to him.

Not wanting to lose myself in mourning again, I moved on and enjoyed seeing the younger versions of ourselves staring back at me.

After another couple of goofy dance pictures, I stumbled on something else entirely, and I froze.

It was an ultrasound picture.

I’d seen the many Clare had done throughout her two pregnancies, so I knew exactly what it was the moment my eyes settled on the grainy black-and-white image.

I immediately felt rage at the thought of Mia becoming pregnant with someone else’s child, but I stilled the instant I saw the date. It was almost exactly eight years ago.

A tidal wave of confusion hit me, and I couldn’t look away from the tiny image in front of me.

So many ultrasounds look like little blobby lima beans or blurry nothings, but this? I could see her.

My child, my daughter.

Why does she have this?

“Hey, am I going to get breakfast anytime soon?” Mia said jokingly as she walked out of the bathroom.

I heard the gasp of air fill her lungs seconds before our eyes collided.

Regret, fear, and despair plagued her beautiful features, and I immediately wanted to soothe them away, but I had to know.

“What is this?”

“An ultrasound of our daughter,” she answered quietly, confirming what I’d already figured out.

“I don’t understand.”

She pulled the ties of her robe tighter and joined me on the bed. I hated that she felt insecure around me now. I didn’t want her to feel that way, but I needed her to explain.

“I’ve never told a single soul about that picture. In fact, up until I saw you standing there in that farmer’s market, I hadn’t looked at it in years. Psychologists say bottling up feeling and emotions can be destructive and emotionally damaging, but sometimes it’s the only way you can survive. And that’s what I did—each and every day. I survived. I hid that sonogram photo and every memory I had tied to it as deep and far away as possible. But, then you showed up and everyday since, it’s like a little piece of my wall has crumbled.”

“I don’t even understand why you have this.”

She didn’t even seem to hear me and just continued, like she was purging her deepest, darkest secret.

“I found it when I was unpacking—kind of by accident actually. It was a few days after we first ran into each other and I opened a box I didn’t recognize and there was this stack of photos. I couldn’t resist. I went through each one, remembering our life together and the dreams we had. And then I found it. Oh God, Garrett, I’m so sorry,” she said, defeated.

Please Mia,” I pleaded, taking her hand, “Help me understand,“

She finally looked at me hesitantly but agreed. “I never wanted to leave you. I made the mistake of telling my mother the night of graduation. She manipulated me and used you as a weapon, saying you would never amount to anything with a baby and wife tied to you. She told me I was selfish for stealing your dreams—that I would waste both of our lives with my careless decision. She knew exactly what to say to make me run and leave you.”

I exhaled, letting out a breath I thought I’d been holding for eight years. Knowing she hadn’t been secretly planning and plotting behind my back as I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me gave me a tremendous feeling of relief.

“I knew anything less than the horrible letter I wrote you would send you running for me, so I cried and screamed and finally sat down to write it. I felt my heart die with every false word. I could never stop loving you.”

I reached up and caught a tear as it slid from her cheek. That explained why the letter had been stained with tears but so icy in its wording. She hadn’t meant a single word of it.