The Soul Mate (Roommates, # 4)

Bren

“That big bag of candy is sounding awfully good right about now.”

Mason chuckled at me from the bed.

I pulled on my pants, then turned around to look at Mason, still lying against my pillow and staring at me with those penetrating blue eyes of his. I was still scared shitless, but with every touch and every minute we spent together, I was starting to wonder if maybe it really could be this good with someone. This easy…

“Hungry?” he asked, but in response his own stomach rumbled.

I laughed.

“I guess it is about time for it,” he said, glancing at the digital clock on my nightstand. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and swung his feet to the floor.

“No, don’t get up.” I yanked my shirt over my head and then rushed toward him. “Stay naked and we can order a pizza and eat in bed.”

Something about leaving this space and the cocoon of my room made me feel angsty. Like it might break the spell or pop the little bubble of happiness I was living in.

“I can get naked again whenever you need me to,” he said. “But if you’re not staying naked while we wait for the delivery guy, then I’m not either.” The mattress springs creaked as he got up and grabbed his pants. As he shoved his legs into his jeans, he glanced down at the floor, and I followed his gaze to find that the ripped white envelope had fallen out of his pocket.

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing past the growing tension in the room. Damn. For that hour there, I’d nearly forgotten all about that little white piece of paper.

Liar.

“You’re right,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was in a prison cell instead of a cocoon. “It might be good to get some food outside the house. There’s a pizza place around the corner open if you don’t mind my wearing this.”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

Inwardly, I let out a little sigh as he pulled his shirt back on, hiding his contoured abs from view.

“All right, I’ll grab my purse.” Finding it in its usual spot, I took my clutch and led the way from the apartment building down to the row of little shops around the corner.

“There’s a river not far from here. It’s beautiful in the spring. One of the only places in the city where you can still fish.”

“You fish?” He raised his eyebrows and I nodded.

I opened my mouth and closed it. Then, thinking of what Mandy had said, I started again. “My, um, my dad and I used to go on fishing trips when I was little. He’s the one who taught me.”

“That sounds like a nice memory. Do you still go?”

My throat went dry. “No.”

That seemed like enough sharing for now. For a second I wanted to pat myself on the back, but I knew, even in my own warped mind, that wasn’t nearly enough.

We walked into the building and, lucky for me, Mason’s attention was captured by the glowing neon sign listing the restaurant’s specials. In a matter of seconds, a waitress appeared and led us to a table with windows that overlooked the river I’d been talking about.

“Seems like we’re destined to eat on the water,” I said. “First the golf course, now here.”

Mason nodded. “I like it. It’s…romantic.”

Less romantic was the pile of appetizers we got-a mountain of fried goodness that was destined to make us feel awful for days to come. Still, I couldn’t help but inwardly squeal at the thought of lots and lots of garlic knots dipped in spicy marinara.

Was that a pregnancy craving, or just a garden-variety craving? My thoughts tripped back to the white envelope and my throat went tight.

“So.” He eyed me warily, and I cut in.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” I asked, almost paranoid that he could read my thoughts.

He shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. I just… I kind of want to talk about the baby. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” I shrugged, sort of relieved I wasn’t alone in this. “I think about her a lot.”

“Her?” he asked, cocking a brow my way.

I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Oh my gosh,” I murmured. “I didn’t even realize. I mean, I’ve sort of been calling her a girl in my head.”

“Does it feel like a girl?” he asked softly. “Have you been having symptoms?”

A rush of heat flooded to my cheeks. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I have been having some, definitely not a lot, but a few symptoms.”

“Like what?” he asked, sipping on his soda.

“Well.” I cleared my throat. “My, uh, breasts? They’ve been really tender. And I also, maybe, have an increased libido. Possibly,” I added, my cheeks flaming.

His mouth spread into a wolf’s grin, and for a moment I wondered whether he was proud of himself for amping up my sex drive or if the idea that this baby might be real was too much for him to hold inside. Whatever the case, though, I found myself beaming back.

I grabbed a mozzarella stick and a knot of buttery bread.

“Have you had any cravings?” he asked.

“Well, I’m dying for these garlic knots,” I said. “I don’t know what counts as a craving, though. My mother ate lemons whole when she was pregnant with me.”

“Are you serious?” he asked with a chuckle. “I’ve heard some women tell me whacky things, but I don’t recall hearing that one before.”

I nodded. “Dead serious. My dad brought home limes because the store was out of lemons once and she chucked them at his head until he went to another store and found some.”

“That’s intense,” Mason said. “So are you telling me I should get a helmet just in case?” he teased.

“Couldn’t hurt,” I said with a laugh. “But, yeah, if that’s the response to a craving, then, no. I don’t feel the urge to pelt you with food.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Are you sure? Because I’ll duck.”