perfect marriage had now become the perfect family, despite his inability to give her a child of their own. He’d started to think that perhaps he hadn’t failed in this endeavor at all. Scarlet was happy, Evan had a loving family...things had worked out the way they were meant to.
It wasn’t until they got the call from their attorney telling them that Evan’s birth mother had changed her mind that he believed otherwise.
Scarlet pulled the gate opener out of her purse and Mason waited for it to open, allowing them to pull onto their property. “I’m going to put her down to finish her nap,” she said, getting out of the car and unfastening Luna.
Mason went to the back of his SUV and opened the hatch. He hadn’t packed much—a couple of suitcases’ worth of clothes, toiletries and random items he might need, like his laptop and tablet.
As he stepped through the ground-floor entry of their former home, Mason hesitated. He’d moved on instinct up until this moment, but he realized things were different now. Some of the furniture had changed. His favorite chair and big-screen television had moved with him. There was a large floral arrangement on the dining room table in a vase that he didn’t recognize and a bright-colored rug in the entry that was way too loud for his taste.
It was obvious this wasn’t his house any longer and he wasn’t sure where to go next. “Where am I sleeping?” he asked. Initially, he’d thought he’d be in the guest room, but that was where the nanny would sleep. Their four-bedroom house had a master suite, a nursery, a guest room and Scarlet’s art studio.
Scarlet paused and turned to look at him. “I guess we’d better make that decision before the nanny arrives with her things. I think you’ll have to sleep on the futon in my studio, with Carroll staying in the guest room that adjoins the nursery. Since my studio is upstairs near the master, it’s probably a better choice anyway. Even the nanny will think that we’re sharing a room.”
“We can’t just share a room?”
“Uh, no. I’m going along with this whole thing for Jay’s sake, but if you think you’re going to take liberties with me, you’re wrong. I think it’s best you sleep in the studio.”
Although the idea of toughing it out on a futon didn’t appeal to him, she was right. “I don’t want to clutter your workspace. Will I be able to put my clothes and toiletries in your bathroom?”
“I suppose.” Scarlet placed the sleeping baby into the Pack ’n Play they’d set up in the living room. “Just don’t make a mess,” she added with a smile.
Mason chuckled as he turned to the stairs and carried his bags up to the second floor. They both knew that Scarlet was the messy one. Mason was the oldest child, raised to the highest standards possible. He was as perfect as he could be. He was tidy. He cleaned up after himself. He always put his clothes in the hamper and his shoes on the rack. He even made the bed. Or at least his side if Scarlet was still in it.
Scarlet was an artist. She was an only child and was raised to be a free spirit. She saw nothing wrong with leaving a cereal bowl on the counter overnight or leaving a glob of toothpaste in the sink. Most of the time she was splattered in paint.
They were different, but he’d loved that about her. Really, Mason had been envious of her ability to let things go. In the few months they’d had Evan, Mason had been on edge over the mess. “Babies are messy,” Scarlet would tell him with a happy smile even as she wiped away spit-up. He’d tried to loosen up then, but he had more than thirty years of training from his father to overcome.
At the top of the stairs, he turned toward the bedroom to unpack his clothes. He paused just inside the French doors, staring at the king-size bed he used to share with her. At least it looked like the same bed. She had changed the bedding to an ivory-and-purple floral print, and the walls had been painted a pale purple color that almost looked gray. It was a far more feminine room than he’d left behind.
It hadn’t changed enough for him to forget everything that had happened in there, though. The sight of the headboard alone was enough to bring back the memories of passionate nights spent together in this very room. It made his whole body start to tighten in a way furniture shouldn’t elicit.
Despite the ups and downs of their relationship, he and Scarlet had always enjoyed a very physical and satisfying love life. From the first time they’d made love on the beach at midnight to the final time the night before he decided to move out, they’d had that spark. Thoughts of that last night together flooded his mind and sent jolts of electricity south to other parts. That memory had haunted him the last few months, knowing he’d never touch her again that way and it was his own fault. His response tonight was compounded by the scent of her perfume, which was stronger in here than anywhere else in the house. It filled his lungs as he tried to take a deep breath and wish away his response to Scarlet.
“Carroll is here!” Scarlet called to him from downstairs.
“I’ll be right down,” he answered and set his bags to the side. He’d unpack later. Now he needed to focus on getting his body and mind on the same page or this would be a very uncomfortable few weeks.
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