Chapter 5
Mason
Did I like going to the gym?
Not really.
It was loud. Everyone stunk. And guys with big muscles and even bigger egos would try to hit on me, which just made me uncomfortable.
It hadn't been a problem when I was pregnant, and they stayed away on the rare days I went with Sebastian, but none of our schedules mixed well enough for me to have a consistent buddy.
That was, until the gym got a new personal trainer, and one thing led to another and, well—
“Come on, pipsqueak,” Mattie barked, clapping her hands like an overenthusiastic little league coach. “If you don’t squat deeper, I’m going to charge you double for wasting my time.”
I groaned and hugged the ten-pound medicine ball closer to my chest before lowering into a squat.
“Ahh, now your form’s shit,” Mattie tsked, planting her hands on her hips.
She raked a hand through her hair, slicking back the short strands before shaking her head.
“I thought you wanted to look hot for your wedding,” she added.
Like that fucking helped.
I stood up fast enough to make myself dizzy, then shoved the medicine ball into her well-muscled chest.
“I do want to look hot. But my knees hurt.” It was a lame excuse, one that barely covered how tired I felt.
“Your knees wouldn’t hurt if you used your glutes—” She smacked my ass for emphasis. “—instead of your spine or whatever the fuck you’re doing.”
Mattie put the medicine ball back on the rack, and I was this close to walking out.
“Come on, reset, try again.” She clapped again as she stalked toward me. “This time, body weight only. Because teeny-tiny pipsqueak can’t take an extra ten.”
I glared, but did as I was told.
Feet shoulder-width apart.
Toes pointed outward.
Chest proud—Mattie’s word.
Palms together, hands close to my face. Then down.
“Looking good, princess,” Mattie cheered before kicking my feet a little farther apart. “There we go. Keep it up. Remember—three sets of fifteen. Get lazy and the count restarts.”
I came up slowly, exhaling as I rose.
“Atta girl. Fourteen more.”
Fourteen. I could do this.
With that in mind, I dipped again.
Thirteen.
Twelve.
Eleven...
Eleven.
Eleven.
Fuck.
I blinked twice as nausea rose in my throat. My lips tingled with an unpleasant warmth, but I tried to ignore it.
“Ten,” I said out loud, trying to set myself straight.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute, because you can’t count for shit,” Mattie teased. “Six more. Keep going.”
Okay. Just six. Even better.
I took a deep breath, puffed out my cheeks, and kept going.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Fuck.
My knees wobbled on the way back up. I had to shuffle my feet into position to keep from falling.
Mattie’s dark eyes widened with concern as I pushed through.
“Hey–okay, that’s enough,” she said, her voice far softer than usual.
But it wasn’t enough. I had seven more. Or fifteen more. Or something–I couldn’t figure it out.
So I went again.
“Five,” I muttered. The count came out warbled even to my own ears.
Mattie squatted behind me, arms out like she expected me to fall.
Lucky fucking guess; that’s exactly what I did.
A cool breeze rushed up my back as I collapsed against her. She pulled me close, and we both dropped to the mat. That’s when I realized I was panting like a dog in heat, totally unable to catch my breath.
“Okay. No more. We’re done,” she ordered, now looking more irritated than worried.
I didn’t like that.
“I’m—” I held up a finger and sucked in a breath. “Fine.”
“You are not.” She pressed her fingers to the side of my neck. “Jesus fucking Christ–where’s your water?”
I thought for a second. “On the kitchen counter.”
After a meeting with my agent and producer, I’d fallen asleep and nearly missed the gym entirely. It was a wonder I had my shoes on the right feet.
“Are you kidding me?” Her jaw dropped, and I shook my head.
“I thought I’d buy something if I needed it.” The second I said it, I realized my wallet was also on the counter—right next to the stainless steel bottle I should’ve brought. The one filled with ice, doing no one any good.
Drawing my knees to my chest, I pressed my palms into my eyes.
What the fuck was wrong with me today?
My whole body hurt. I was exhausted. And I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry or vomit, maybe both.
“The last time you looked like this—” Mattie gestured to me “—was when you forgot to eat all day and tried to run a mile. You have eaten, right?”
And somehow, that question was worse than all of it.
Had I eaten?
Yeah. A ton.
Sure, I threw away most of my breakfast this morning. But I’d had a blueberry muffin on the way home from dropping the twins at daycare. Instant noodles. Apple slices. A hummus and veggie sandwich. A protein bar on the way to the gym.
Still, it felt like I had a black hole where my stomach should be.
And that was mortifying. So I lied.
“I can’t remember,” I mumbled.
Mattie stared at me, face contorting like she was trying not to scream. After a second, she stood and offered a hand.
“Come on. We’re done.”
Without thinking, I took it, and she hauled me to my feet. I tried to pull my hand back, but she tightened her grip and kissed my fingers.
My heart turned into a helium balloon, floating so high I thought it might leave my chest.
Then she tugged me along like I was nothing more than a ragdoll.
“I need to get my bag,” I protested.
“Fuck your bag. I’ll get it when we’re done.” Her tone left no room for argument, which was part of what I liked about her.
She reminded me a little of Lucian.
Except, well, she was a girl. But just as firm when she needed to be—and just as soft when the moment called for it. I genuinely believed everyone at home would love her, but she seemed nervous about meeting them.
Together, we wove through weightlifters and nosy girls on treadmills. Through my haze, I heard her tell the girl at the front desk something about taking a twenty-minute break.
The glass door slid open as we approached, and cool air hit me like a truck. I hadn’t realized how hot I was until now. So maybe it was a good thing she’d forced me outside.
But outside was sensory hell.
The sun was too bright.
The cars were too loud.
The breeze made me dizzy.
My legs felt like they didn’t belong to me. The short walk across the street became an expedition. Still, Mattie remained patient. She slowed down when I needed her to, wrapping an arm around my waist to help me balance.
Eventually, we reached the front door of Loaves of Love, one of my favorite places in town.
A bell chimed overhead as Mattie opened the door. The scent of cinnamon and butter hit me instantly. My mouth watered, but my stomach flipped.
The café buzzed with quiet conversations, humming just below the indie pop playing overhead. Light poured through the windows, making the mismatched tables and worn cushions feel incredibly homey.
Mattie led me to the secluded booth in the back, safe from windows and wayward selfies.
Dating an autistic celebrity wasn’t for the faint of heart. But Mattie seemed to handle it with an almost unnatural level of ease, like she’d been preparing for this her whole life.
She sat me down before heading to the counter. The second she left, I closed my eyes and basked in the sunlight. She came back almost too quickly with banana bread, an iced coffee, and a glass of lemonade.
My nose wrinkled at the juice, but she pushed it toward me, along with the bread, before taking a long sip of her own coffee.
“Drink the lemonade,” she ordered.
“I’d rather have matcha.”
She knew that. The banana matcha here was my favorite, even if it had a million calories and zero nutritional value.
“And I’d rather not give you caffeine right now.” She nudged the lemonade closer.
Begrudgingly, I picked it up. The drink was sour, sugary, and ice-cold. I didn’t like it, but it helped clear the fog in my head.
Mattie didn’t say anything right away. She was probably waiting for me to reflect on what I’d done, or some bullshit like that.
“I did eat this morning, by the way,” I added, picking at the bread.
“Yeah, no, I know you did.” Lean muscles twitched under her skin, causing the patchy tattoos on her arms to shift as she leaned back, draping one arm over the booth. “I watched you walk out of here with a muffin the size of your head.”
My cheeks warmed. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Mattie might watch me–she lived above the gym, after all—but still, I hadn’t thought she actually would.
“I didn’t eat the whole thing,” I lied, pushing the banana bread away.
As much as I wanted it, I had two photoshoots coming up: an album cover and a magazine feature. I was getting so close to my pre-baby weight; I couldn’t screw it up now.
Mattie arched a brow and pushed the bread back.
“If you’re hungry, you need to eat.”
“I am.” I gestured toward the lemonade.
“That’s drinking.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, I picked at the bread, tearing it apart more so than eating it.
“You nearly passed out,” she said, suddenly serious. “I know you’ve had problems with eating disorders before. Are you–”
“No!” I shoved a chunk of bread in my mouth, almost choking in the process.
Mattie’s eyes widened, and her lips twitched like she wanted to laugh but didn’t. I swallowed hard, coughing, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“See? I’m not starving myself.” I tore off another piece and ate it more gracefully.
“I didn’t say you were,” she chuckled. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“We’ve only been dating for like... two months. That’s not enough time to worry about me.”
Why the fuck did I say that?
“Do you not worry about me?” She placed a hand over mine, fingers walking up and down my arm.
My gaze dropped to the table. I stared at the woodgrain like it might give me an escape.
“No, I do,” I whispered. “But I’m a mom. It’s my job to worry about people.”
A crooked smile tugged at her lips. “That’s what girlfriends do, too.”
I shoved the rest of the bread in my mouth before I could say something else stupid.
Why couldn’t she just meet everyone?
Not having her integrated into the family made this feel... temporary. She wasn’t the other woman, everyone knew about her, but she was still an outsider. Though of course I didn't expect her to date everyone in the house, she did need to get along with them. That was my one deal breaker.
Well, that and hard drugs.
“Hey... speaking of being a mom,” Mattie paused, rubbing the back of her neck. “When was your last period?”
I choked, again.
I forced the half-chewed bread down with a gulp of lemonade. Part of me expected her to laugh or to say it was a joke.
She didn’t.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin to buy more time, but that’s when I realized—I couldn’t remember.
“April... I think.” It was after the twins’ birthday but before Memorial Day. “But they’ve been weird since I had Rosie.”
Plus, I was breastfeeding. That had to mean something.
“Look, if you say you’re okay, I believe you.” Mattie gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “But if you’re pregnant—which is fine—I need to know for workout purposes.”
I nodded, trying to pretend the world wasn’t spinning.
Rosie was seven months old.
She wasn’t even crawling yet.
The last time I had a baby, I nearly died.
Getting pregnant again wasn’t responsible. I had so much to—
“Mase, you look like you’re going to hurl,” Mattie said cautiously.
I felt like it, too, but I forced a weak smile. “Just tired.”
She looked skeptical, but she didn’t push.
“If you’re that tired, I don’t think you should drive home. I’ll take you.”
Her offer was sweet, but I still had to pick up the kids from daycare. Mattie wasn’t an option.
“I’ll call someone,” I promised without having the faintest idea who I’d call.
But just as I started to consider who might be the least busy, the bell above the café door chimed.
And just like that, I had my answer.