Page 35 of Beautifully Messy
I’d been burning through a run, lungs aching, muscles tightening, chasing the cold for relief from everything: Mason’s rejection, my own exhaustion, the heat James stirs by existing. Each step cut loose something knotted inside me. Each breath gave me space.
Rounding a bend, I nearly slammed into a body coming from the opposite direction.
The dry, smoky whisper of bergamot and cedar hit me first.
James.
His hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. He was damp with sweat, breath steaming in the cold, beanie pulled low.
“You good?” His chest heaved with the question.
“Just needed some air,” I said, stepping out of his reach.
“You and me both.”
The moment stretched between us longer than it should have. Until he turned left. I turned right. But the heat lingered.
Now, by the fire, I tip my head toward the stars, inhale the sharp scent of smoke and snow, and sit between two worlds. The man to my right, who will never understand what it is to look at the night sky andwish—and the man across the fire, who ignites something impossible to ignore.
“Syd?” Ivy’s voice cuts through the haze. “How long is your maternity leave? When are you heading back to the firm?”
Jules and I share a look; only she knows how much my old ambitions don’t fit anymore. I want something slower. A life with time in it. A balance between my career and life. One that was always skewed toward work before.
“I have two more months left of leave,” I pause and decide to open the window into my mind and see how Mason reacts. “But honestly, I don’t know if I’ll go back in the same capacity. I’m not interested in sixteen-hour days or chasing the partner track anymore.”
Mason’s smile falters for half a second, then he barks out a laugh. “Leave? More like a paid vacation if you ask me.”
The word he's been rolling his eyes at for months. He’s never outright said it, but I think he expected me to take a few weeks, hire a nanny, and be back to the grind. Because no matter how much he said he wanted a baby, he didn’t want it to shift my priorities.
A quiet, bitter fire sparks in my chest. I think of the night feeds, the sleep deprivation, the cracked nipples and crying jags. The endless effort I give to Anna. And he dares to call it avacation.
Jules straightens her spine, ready to go to war.
But it’s James who speaks first.
“That’s one hell of a vacation,” he says coolly. “No sleep. Constant caregiving. I wonder when Club Med will start offering that package?”
He leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes fixed on Mason. I hear the challenge in his voice. They stare at each other for a beat before Mason leans back and shrugs.
“I wouldn’t gothatfar. There’s way too much shit involved for it to be an actual vacation. But come on, I’ve seen our Netflix queue. It can’t be all bad.”
“What the fuck, Mason?” Jules snaps. “Are you seriously this much of a dick?”
James scoffs and walks away. Ivy sits there wide-eyed watching.
“I get it’s not a luxury vacation,” Mason says with a dismissive wave. “But babies sleep too. And when you've got nothing else to do all day, how hard can it be?”
The words land with stinging force.
My vision blurs, but I blink hard, forcing the tears back. He won’t see me cry. Eyes are on me, waiting for my reaction. I give them nothing.
“I think I’ve had enough. Goodnight, everyone.”
My voice is steady, more than I feel. Back straight, steps measured, dignity clutched tight.
Eleven
Annanursespeacefullyinmy arms, her tiny fingers curling against my skin, a balm to the sting of Mason’s careless words as we nestle into a corner of the sunroom. I trace each tiny finger, memorizing every detail. The delicate knuckles, the tender creases—each part of her changing so quickly, I can barely capture these moments.
