Page 55 of Mase
THIRTY-TWO
MASE
The lookof sheer devastation on Summer’s face when she overheard me tell the guys I wasn’t getting married again is something that will haunt me forever and not something I intend on seeing again. It plays out in my mind like a bad movie. The way hurt flickered in her soft-blue eyes, and her face fell, then the shudder that racked her body was enough to stun me to the spot. What the hell did I do?
I want her more than I’ve wanted anything else in the world, besides our babies, of course.
But getting married again isn’t something I can go through, despite every atom in my body screaming at me that this time is different.
I kick the door to my old room shut and slide Summer down my front until her feet touch the floor. Then, I back her up until she hits the wall and rest my arms above her head to cage her in, giving her no option but to listen to what I’ve got to say.
“I’m sorry.” I kiss down her neck.
She swallows and turns her head to allow me access.
“I never meant for you to hear those words, Sum.”
She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. I understand.”
Her solemn voice is full of resolution, and I fucking hate it. She deserves more than this.
I drop my arms and back up until my ass hits my bed, then I perch on the edge and scrub a hand over my head.
“When I married Tara…”
She flinches on her name, but I continue.
“I expected it to be for forever, Sum.” My throat thickens. “I wanted to be the man my mom wanted my father to be. The man she deserved.”
“Your father was a cruel, cheating prick,” she spits out with fire in her eyes, and I love her for how defensive she is of me and my mom.
“He was”—I nod—“but I was determined to be anything but him. The complete opposite of him, in fact.”
Her shoulders sag. “You are, Mase. You’re so much more than him.” The snarl lacing her words should be enough to convince me, but there’s that familiar gnawing sensation inside me that tells me I’m not enough, and I want to be. I want to be the best version of myself for her and our children before I commit again.
“Our divorce fucked me up,” I admit, and embarrassment curdles my stomach.
“She fucked you up,” she snipes out, and she’s not wrong; she did.
“I should have been stronger, Summer. I want to be stronger.”
“I’m not, Tara, Mase,” she implores.
My head snaps up, and I glare at her. “I know that. Fuck.” I drag a hand over my head. “You think I don’t know that? You’re caring and compassionate, gentle, innocent. Trust me, I know you’re everything she’s not.”
“But I’m not enough?” she whispers, and her words gut me.
She doesn’t deserve to feel this way.
I jump up from the edge of the bed and take her in my arms.
“You’re more than enough. It’s me that’s not enough, sweetheart. But I’m working on it.” I tilt her head up to face me. “Just please stick with me. Don’t—” Emotion lodges in my throat, and I struggle to swallow past the thick lump there. “Please don’t give up on me, Sum. I want this.” I rest my hand on her stomach, willing it to grow. “I want you more than you know. I just want to feel worthy of you all.”
She clutches onto my shirt, her shoulders rack with sobs, and I loathe the sound, especially because I’m the one who made her feel that way.
Lifting her into my arms, I cradle her against my chest and position us on the bed with my back resting against the headboard.
“I wish I was worthy too.” She says it so low I don’t think I’m supposed to hear. I hold her tighter as she sniffles.
