Maybe Never Read Online Free PDF Page B

propped the hastily scribbled note against the bottle of green tea body lotion on the dresser and glanced one last time at Tracy’s sleeping form. The lotion was always the first thing she reached for when she got out of the shower. Brendan loved watching her apply it, sitting naked on the bed, her long legs extended. She would raise one, and then the other, carefully massaging the creamy liquid into her skin. More than once he’d not allowed her to get to the second leg, finding irresistible the sight of his woman, performing the most womanly of rituals.
    On the bed now, she slept on, breathing quiet, even breaths. Peaceful. He liked watching her sleep because she was very seldom at peace. For someone who had always prided himself on maintaining equilibrium of mood, it was the damnedest thing that he’d gone and fallen for a woman whose nature was pure tumult.
    In their time together, Brendan had come to realize that Tracy was at constant war internally, passionately throwing herself into the business of figuring out who she was supposed to be— in her work, in her relationship with her mother, with her friends and with him . It didn’t matter how much he tried to reassure her, Tracy still couldn’t seem to just . . . be. The phrase ‘tortured soul’ hadn’t meant anything to him until he truly got to know this woman, lying here, quieted for the moment, but only because even she was no match for something as forceful as the biological imperative to simply get some sleep.
    Her hair was loose and long, some of it resting across her cheek, some spread on the pillow next to her head, and a few strands obscuring her nose and lips. Brendan resisted the urge to smooth it away from her face because he knew that if he touched her, she would likely awaken. One thing about Tracy that he had come to learn—maybe the most surprising thing—was how fiercely she loved. And she loved him. He knew that as surely as he had ever known anything. He touched her, and it was like she came alive beneath his hand. That was an overwhelming amount of power to have over anyone, a sometimes terrifying power. And after the news she’d shared with him last night, he sensed she would wake up immediately if he touched her now, and he wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet.
    As he left the apartment, grabbing his sports bag from the closet, Brendan thought about his reaction the previous evening. He’d definitely fucked that up. Women probably dreamed of that moment, when they shared with a man that he was about to be a father. After being fed a steady diet of bullshit by television, they wanted to be swept up into a spinning hug, kissed all over their faces, or have their abdomens lovingly caressed. Brendan had done none of those things.
    Instead, he froze. He just stood there like stone until Tracy pulled away and looked up at him, saying his name. Finally, he spoke.
    How? he’d asked.
    How. And that had done it.
    Tracy started crying again and looked at him with betrayal in her eyes. The usual way, Brendan , she said. And then for good measure: As a matter of fact, I seem to remember that you were there, and a very active participant .
    What he really wanted to know—but in the moment was too inarticulate to say—was how, if she was on the Pill, she’d managed to get pregnant. But that was moot. Besides, Brendan had an idea.
    For the past seven months or so, Tracy had been careless about contraception. She always took her Pill out and left it next to the sink to take with her vitamin supplement just before she brushed her teeth, and there had been several mornings when Brendan had gone into the bathroom after her to find the little white pill sitting there next to the honey-colored liquid capsule. If he’d gently reminded her, then she’d take them both, but sometimes he didn’t bother, thinking it likely she would get around to it, or sometimes just not even caring whether she did.
    The new carelessness was something he’d noticed only