Wait? Blond hair?
Audrey sat up quickly, holding the blanket against her chest as sweat dripped down her back. Looking around the dark room, she realized she was alone, and that she’d been dreaming. Of sex with Tate!
Her “friend.”
Shit.
Picking her phone off the end table and seeing that it was only 2:00 A.M., she fell back onto the bed with a groan. Man, that was a hot, sexy, yummy dream, and she wasn’t the least bit surprised that she was dreaming of Tate. After spending the whole night with him, then thinking about him nonstop before going to sleep, and still feeling him kissing her, it was bound to happen. The only thing she wished was that it wasn’t just a dream. She was wishing it were true.
Audrey didn’t know what she was going to do. She’d had guys want her before, and knew how to handle them. But it was different when it came to Tate. When he said he wouldn’t quit, she saw in his eyes that he wasn’t lying or playing a game. He was for real, and part of her was scared shitless. She didn’t know how else to explain that she wasn’t the girl for him other than basically telling him about her condition. She hated that she wasn’t brave enough to share her infertility with him. To give him the option of choosing if he would want to be with her or not. She was being a coward, and it was nothing new.
For once she wished she had the balls to do what would make her happy. She was so scared of rejection.
She rested her head against her knees and sat like that for a moment, then slowly ran her fingers along her lips, remembering the feel of his plump, juicy lips on hers. When she heard the faint sound of a piano, she almost fell on her face trying to get out of bed. Running across the hall in only a tank top and panties, she stumbled into her closet.
Sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, the vibrations from the piano next door tickled her back. She leaned her head against the wall, wondering why Tate was up so late. He had practice early in the morning. Shouldn’t he be asleep?
Her worry about his sleep patterns died when she recognized the song he was playing. It was another personal favorite, and she was starting to think they had the same taste in music. Hugging her legs tightly, she sang along to the beautiful melody of “Stranger” by Secondhand Serenade. She was the worst singer imaginable, but it was such a beautiful song, she couldn’t help but sing along. A part of her—probably the selfish part—hoped he was playing it for her. When he played the part she liked best, tears rolled down her cheeks as she sang. Closing her eyes tightly, she let the melody take her to another place.
Audrey had no clue what she was going to do, but knew she needed to do something. What if she stopped hanging out with Tate? That seemed the only way to fix everything. As much as she wanted a Happily Ever After with him, she couldn’t be selfish. She couldn’t take away his dreams of having a family someday by wanting him to be with her.
With tears rolling faster down her cheeks, choking sobs ripped through her body. She knew she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let him go—not yet. All she could do was tell him about her condition and let him choose. Then if he rejected her, she would be in the same place she was now.
Audrey leaned against the wall, crying her heart out, realizing she was in one hell of a pickle.
She was drained.