without a child in it, and that took time to come to terms with.
“What reasons did he give for wanting the divorce?”
“He said he didn’t want to hold me back from my dream of having a family. Since he was the one who couldn’t have children, he said he thought it was best to step aside and let me find someone who could.”
April’s mouth fell open. “That’s the most romantic breakup I’ve ever heard of.”
Scarlet shook her head. “I don’t know that I believe it was entirely selfless. It sounds noble, but I know Mason. He can’t stand to fail at anything. Mason doesn’t do well when he isn’t on top. He’d rather walk away from something if he can’t succeed. He’s done it before. Did you know he was a vice president at his father’s company before he quit and started the surf shop? That he dropped out of grad school? This was the same thing. Staying married to me would be a daily reminder that he failed and couldn’t give me a child. And by that point, we’d started growing apart. If you’d asked me two years ago about us ever divorcing, I would’ve laughed in your face. But we’d become strangers living in the same house.”
She knew most of that was her fault. Once they started to try having a family, she’d become obsessed with the idea. As the only child of two only children, Scarlet had always wanted a big family. Three or four kids at a minimum. For the first five years of their marriage, she and Mason had been focused on their careers and they’d been very successful. It wasn’t until they decided to finally try for a family that things started to come apart.
Their passionate nights became dominated by ovulation kits and monthly disappointments. Then romance went out the window entirely in the face of sterile doctors’ offices and medical exams that uncovered that Mason was infertile. It had been a huge blow to them both, but Mason seemed especially devastated by the diagnosis. She had tried to convince him that she didn’t care, that they could adopt a child who needed a home. When that fell apart, too, they had no hope left for their marriage to cling to. At that point, Mason did what he always did—he made a decision without consulting her, and moved out.
“Do you think things will be different with him back in the house again? Now that he has custody of Luna, perhaps you could reconcile.”
Scarlet didn’t really think that was an option. Being back together would be awkward at best, contentious at worst. She imagined them tiptoeing around each other, trying to adapt to a new dynamic that flew in the face of nine years together. “This won’t really be the right environment to rekindle our romance. We’ll have Luna here. And the nanny.”
April set down her empty wineglass and turned in her seat to look at Scarlet. “May I ask what the nanny is about?”
Scarlet’s brow furrowed at her friend’s silly question. “I’m on deadline. That massive humpback whale oil painting is due next week. You of all people should know that. And we’re on the verge of opening up the Fisherman’s Wharf gallery. That’s going to keep me busy.”
April didn’t look convinced. “So busy that a woman desperate for children can’t make time in her day to care for her orphaned niece, who needs a mother more than anything in the world?”
Scarlet frowned at her insightful friend. So she wasn’t that busy. They would need help with Luna, though. She’d rather have an in-home nanny than put her in day care while they worked.
“Tell me that you’re not putting up these walls as a self-preservation mechanism,” April said.
“A what?” Scarlet snapped.
“You got attached to Evan and you lost him. Are you deliberately keeping distance between you and Luna so you don’t get attached to her, too?”
That question hit a little closer to home than Scarlet cared for. Best friends saw too much sometimes. “It’s not my baby, April, and Mason and I aren’t reconciling. I know this whole thing seems like a terrible twist of fate that will reunite us and give us the child we’ve always wanted, but that’s just not the case. Mason made it very clear to me that this is all for show, to put Jay at ease.”
She sat back in her chair with a sigh. “Of course I love Luna as my niece, but no... I’m not going to let myself fall head over heels for her when Mason is her sole legal guardian. I basically have no rights in the matter. When he decides the time is right, he’s going to take her away from me and carry on with his life. I’ll be alone again, and brokenhearted, because he decided I need to go out and have a child of my own. No.” She shook her head. “I’ll do what he asked of me, but I can’t let myself get attached to another child that isn’t mine. That’s why I refused to try adoption a second time after we lost Evan. I couldn’t go through that again.”
“So there’s no chance whatsoever that you and Mason will call off the divorce and raise Luna together?” April looked at Scarlet with big, hopeful eyes.
Scarlet understood. It was a beautiful fantasy to have. They really had had a marriage that made other people jealous. They’d started out their careers together, had common goals and interests, and aesthetically they were a match made on a Hollywood film set. Losing Mason had been doubly hard because she really didn’t think she’d ever find another relationship like that one. It was one of a kind and she hated to let it go, but she couldn’t figure out how to hold on to it either.
She’d once held that kind of hope for her marriage, but she’d realized she was being naive. “No, April. While it might seem like our divorce was all about kids, it isn’t that simple and adding a baby won’t fix everything. Mason and I are not getting back together no matter how things might look.”
* * *
Mason’s gaze kept drifting from the white casket covered in pink roses to his wife and niece beside him. The service had been beautifully done. He was surprised, really, considering they had everything arranged for Jay and nothing arranged for Rachel. Fortunately, the funeral home had handled most of the details, and they’d purchased their plots months before after Jay’s grim diagnosis.
To Mason’s other side, Jay was seated in his wheelchair. It was hard for Mason to look at his younger brother. He was like a shriveled skeleton inside the black suit he’d worn last when he was fifty pounds heavier. A hospice nurse had come out with him to check on his oxygen and make sure he didn’t overdo it. Even though it was July, he had a blanket over his lap and a pink rose clutched in his hand. All things considered, he was holding together pretty well.
Mason wished he could say the same about himself. On the outside he looked calm and collected enough, but on the inside he was a bundle of raw nerves. Just a glance at Jay or Scarlet was enough to set him on edge, and for very different reasons. He’d even done a shot of whiskey to get him through the service.
Every time he looked at his brother, he thought about Luna and the future he never expected. Being a father was an idea he’d taken for granted until it couldn’t happen. Once he realized it wasn’t in the cards for him, he’d let it go along with his marriage. The concept of being Luna’s father once Jay was gone—and a single father at that—scared the hell out of him. Would he make the same choices Jay would’ve made for his daughter? Would he screw the kid up by levying the same unrealistic expectations of perfection on her the way his parents had done to him? That was the vicious cycle, right?
Each time he turned away from his brother, he caught a whiff of Scarlet’s perfume on the air. He knew the scent well, having bought her a bottle of it every year on her birthday for the last nine years. The scent reminded him of her hair spilled across pillowcases, of his lips pressed against the hollow of her throat, tasting her pulse, and of her wrapped in nothing but a towel getting ready for the day.
He’d been desperate when he’d asked Scarlet to play house with him for a few weeks. Now a part of him regretted it. Leaving her the first time had been hard enough, but it was something he knew he had to do. Being back under the same roof might make it impossible to leave a second time. But he had no other choice. He couldn’t give her what she needed, despite what she might say to the contrary.
Glancing