Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(30)

They were both so miserable; I hated it.

So when Mason walked into the kitchen one evening while I was fixing myself a snack—carrots, apple slices, and celery smothered in peanut butter because I wanted to deliver a healthy kid—I dropped my butter knife on the counter and grabbed his arm, yanking him close. I'd had enough of this shit.

He tried to jerk back in surprise, but I wouldn't let him go.

"This has to stop," I hissed, glancing warily toward the opening of the kitchen in the hopes that Reese didn't walk in any second and catch me chewing him out.

"What? I just walked into the kitchen." Pulling his arm away, he managed to free himself as he scowled back.

I snorted. "As if. Your non-stop moping is sucking the life out of Reese. I hope you realize that."

His face drained of color, telling me how much he'd noticed it . . . and hated it, too. But the way his jaw tightened said he was pissed I'd brought it up. Stepping in close, he whispered, "What the hell am I supposed to do about it? I can't stop what happened. It already happened."

"Yes, it did. But it's over and done with. All you can do is control how you react to it. And you're having a really bad reaction. It's dragging Reese down with you."

His eyes filled with torment. "Don't you think I know that? It's killing me to see her every day with all that pain in her eyes. But I don't know how to stop it. There aren't enough apologies on earth to make up for what happened. And there's no way to fix it. No way to—"

"Just stop right there." Rolling my eyes, I set my hand over his mouth to shut him up. "You're thinking about this all wrong. Looking for forgiveness from her is not what you need, because newsflash, numb nuts: she's already forgiven you. That's the amazing thing about Reese. She forgives. And an even more amazing thing about her is that she moves on. Just think about it. Were you able to tell her ex-boyfriend had tried to kill her and nearly succeeded just four months before you met her? No, because she has this super power of being about to get past awful, disturbing, traumatic events. It's all part of the beauty of who she is. She would've gotten past this last episode with Mrs. Garrison too, but you're not letting her. Every time you pull away, or refuse to meet her eyes, or dodge a conversation, it kills her."

Mason closed his eyes and covered his face with both hands. He gulped audibly and took a moment to regain his composure. Then he blew out a breath and dropped his fingers.

"I swear to God, Eva. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, but I just can't . . . God." He swiped the heels of his hands over his eyes. "I don't know how to get past this. I don't deserve her forgiveness. I don't . . . how the hell do I touch something so pure and amazing when I'm so f*cking filthy?"

I bit my lip when tears began to swim in my eyes. Freaking pregnancy hormones. They just wouldn't leave me alone, would they? But my heart was breaking for poor Mason. The man could not forgive himself for what he'd been.

Picking up a piece of peanut-butter coated apple, I took a bite and began to munch, trying to act as cool and collected as I didn't feel. While Mason tried not to emotionally fall apart in front of me, I licked my fingers clean of my snack and then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Finally, I cleared my throat.

"So, I've been reading all these new mommy, expecting-your-first-baby articles online lately. And they're really cool. They go week by week through your pregnancy, telling you how big your baby is compared to a piece of fruit." Setting my hands over my bump, I grinned. "Baby Girl's about the size of a pineapple right now, by the way."

Mason blinked and stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. But I did have a point, and I was about to get to it.

"The advice that helped me stop freaking out the most was about dealing with all the mistakes I'm going to make as a mother. They say it's inevitable, you know. No matter how great I want to be, I'm going to mess shit up. And I'm going to worry that I'm destroying my child's life. But I read this thing that said as long as I love her and try to make her happy, the rest will fall into place. Discipline, temper tantrums, all of it. Instead of drowning in my mistakes, I'll learn from them. And the more joy I bring to her life, the more I'll bring to my own." Reaching out, I grasped Mason's hand hard.

"Are you listening to me, Mason Lowe? Just love Reese and make her happy. And when you bring joy to her life, it'll bring joy to your life. Instead of wallowing over everything you did wrong, you'll forgive yourself and move on from this, because making her happy is the ultimate priority. Everything else is just bullshit."

He gently squeezed my fingers in return. "I want to do that," he assured me, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "I do. I just want to show her how much I love her and bring a smile to her face, but I . . . " He shook his head helplessly. "Right now, I can't even imagine what I could do to accomplish that."

My lips spread wide as an idea hit me. "I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to dig out that engagement ring you have hiding in the bottom of your shirt drawer, and you're going to propose to her. Tonight."

"Wha . . . " Mouth falling open, Mason sputtered a couple seconds before he scowled at me. Stepping closer, he sent a quick glance toward the opening of the kitchen before he whirled back and quietly hissed, "How the hell do you know what's in my shirt drawer?"