Undeniably Married (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires Book 4)

Practice was grueling today, but it was also the first day I felt like the team came together as a unit. My offensive line was on point. My receivers and tight ends were exactly where I needed them to be. Maybe it’s that I’m more focused than I have been in weeks. The mental turmoil I had been unable to see beyond is gone.

Sorel is mine. My arm feels great. The bullshit from the other day in the locker room has cleared. Everything right now is as it should be. It’s perfect. And heading into our final preseason game, I’m ready. Excited.

And definitely anxious to get home to my girl.

Last night, she wasn’t herself. She was quiet and missing some of her smile and spunk. She didn’t want to talk about it, but I wonder if getting hit by that patient rattled her. It sure as hell rattled me, and I texted my uncle Callan, who isn’t exactly my uncle, but as my dad’s best friend and Katy’s adoptive father, that’s what I call him. He did his best to reassure me that what happened to Sorel isn’t all that common and that he’s never worried about having Layla work there.

It set some of my nerves at rest considering I know how protective he is over his wife. But Sorel clung to me last night in a way she hasn’t yet. I won’t lie and say I didn’t love it, but it also made me hesitant to leave her today. Oddly enough, she was up and out the door before I even woke up, so the choice was removed for me.

The lock disengages on the front door, and a smile instantly hits my face. I never used to look forward to coming home. I didn’t dread it, but there was nothing sweet about coming home to an empty house. Having Sorel here, knowing I get to see her and talk to her and spend time with her fills me with a warmth I can’t even begin to explain. It’s the smell of food when she makes dinner or the sound of whatever 90s tune she’s listening to or show she’s watching. It’s the scent of her perfume that lingers in the air, and now the feel of her in bed beside me.

It’s home. She’s made my house a home.

Only as I walk inside, something feels off. I can’t even put my finger on what it is exactly—maybe it’s the deafening silence when I know she’s supposed to be home—but whatever it is, my pulse quickens, and the hairs at the back of my neck prickle. My strides grow long and urgent as I drop my bag and move to the great room to find it empty. She’s not in the dining room either, but a faint sound in the kitchen draws me there, and when I cross the threshold, I find her sitting at the counter, a glass of water beside her, and a vacant expression on her face.

“Hey.” I rush over to her and cup her face. I try not to wince. That cut and bruise set my teeth on edge, and I want to kiss it away so she doesn’t feel an ounce of pain from it. She shakes my grip loose, but I can tell she’s been crying by the red puffiness of her eyes, which are barely dry, and the stain of salt on her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

She pins me with a look that instantly has me stepping back and gripping the counter for support. My heart thunders at her turbulent expression. She’s about to end this with me. I can tell.

“What is it?” I press when she doesn’t speak. “Just tell me.”

Her hands tremble in her lap and as she tries to hide them by knotting her fingers together. With a swallow, she says, “Mason, I’m pregnant, and the baby is Brody’s.”

Blood rushes through my ears, and I press into the counter. Mason, I’m pregnant, and the baby is Brody’s. The words reverberate through my skull, angry and violent and making me fucking sick. The room spins, and all I can hear is the baby is Brody’s.

My hands meet the back of my head only to tumble to my knees. It’s like I just sprinted a marathon and can’t get enough oxygen. How is this even… no. Fucking no!

I blow out a breath in an attempt to try and regain my control, only it’s futile. My insides are being pummeled. Pulverized. My heart… God in hell, this hurts like a bitch.

Pregnant. Sorel is pregnant, but the baby isn’t mine. That’s what she’s saying. Not only is it not mine, it’s fucking Brody’s.

My jaw clenches, my molars gnashing as jealousy like I’ve never felt before curls up my spine and hugs my shoulders. “How long have you…” My voice isn’t my own. It’s low and rough and mean with accusation. Goddammit! I clear my throat and try again. “How long have you known?”

She licks her lips and wipes her face. She’s trying to be matter-of-fact and calm, but her tears betray her agony, and I break with her. A tidal wave of emotion knocks me sideways, and my anger and jealousy slip into heartbreak.

“I found out I was pregnant yesterday, but I didn’t know how far along I was or whose baby it was until this morning.”

I find myself nodding as I absorb her words. So, she knew she was pregnant yesterday and didn’t tell me. That’s not the most fun to hear, but then again, what was she going to tell me? I’m glad I didn’t know it could have been mine. I would have gotten my hopes up, and that would have been a bigger blow than this. This is ripping the Band-Aid off, even if it still hurts like a motherfucker.

I turn and start to pace, my hands on top of my head as I’m unable to slow my thoughts down. It feels like my world is falling apart. Like the good thing I thought I had going, the thing I’ve wanted for so long, the best thing I’ve ever had is gone again. It’s our pattern. I have her for a few days, and then she slips away from me.

Only this feels worse. More permanent.

My chest cracks open, my beating heart being ripped out of my body.

I stop pacing and face her. “Are you getting back together with Brody?”

She shakes her head adamantly. “No. Not ever.”

“Are you moving back to New York?”

Another head shake because that’s all she seems to be able to give me now.

I stare at her and I have to ask. I have to know. Even if it kills me. “Are you ending this with me?”

A sob wrenches from her chest. She’s trying to stay strong and resolute, but it’s not working, and she falls apart. “I don’t want to.” Her face meets her hands, and she loses it. Body-wrenching shudders consume her, and all I want to do is be there for her and comfort her, but I don’t know how to process this.

I’m gutted too.

“You want to stay with me?”

She nods. “Yes, but…”

But she’s pregnant. And that means it’s not just her anymore. She’d be pregnant with another man’s child and then a mother to it.

“It’s a lot. I know it’s a lot. It’s a lot to take in and a lot to ask.” She continues to cry into her hands, unable to look at me as she says, “But I’m asking you all the same.”

I pry her hands from her face so she’s forced to see mine. “Asking me what?”

She blinks at me, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “For whatever you’re willing to give me.”

That hits me square in the chest and shakes my breath from my body.

“I’m so sorry, Mason,” she wails. “I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” I know that at least. “How far…” I choke and have to swallow past the thickness in my throat. “How far along…” I can’t even finish that.

“Seven weeks.”

I nod and start to pace again. She was pregnant with his kid this entire time. Every time I was inside her, his baby was there too. Fuck. Fuck! I’m so fucking furious right now. Not at her. Just at the world. At the universe. Why couldn’t that baby be mine? I love this woman, and I just… I wanted a shot. That’s all I wanted. I wanted my shot with her.

But how can that happen now?

“Is Brody… does he…”

With a steady breath and a calmer voice, she says, “He knows. I told him this morning.”

My fist meets the counter with a hard thud when what I really want to do is punch straight through the stone. I want to feel bones crack and blood seep. Of course she had to tell him first. He’s the father. But I hate that she told him before me. I fucking hate that.

She’s mine.

My girl. My wife. All of this should be mine and not his. He threw her away. He took her for granted. Why does he get this and not me?

I’m starting to lose it too. I can feel it. And I don’t want to lose it in front of her.

I need to calm down. I need to organize my thoughts. I need to get control of the bitter rage and jealousy I feel toward Brody. But I can’t. It’s a snowball rolling down a mountain inside me. It’s a fucking avalanche.

“I’m gonna go for a walk.” I look at her and it hurts. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to leave you right now. I don’t. I just, I need to because I can’t think straight, and I need to think straight.” I pause. “Okay?”

She nods, meeting my gaze. “Okay.”

Okay. Our word of trust with each other. Something about that sends a current through me and lightens some of the heaviness in my chest.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”