Mislaid Plans

MISLAID PLANS

R ejecting the open envelopes full of bills, account updates, offers for higher credit from the bank, and putting the flyers and junk mail aside, I came up with nothing. "Az, where is it?"

"Where is what?" he yelled from the second floor.

"The letter we got from the agency. The one with the address informing us where to meet Bryn today. The most important mail we've received in…our lives." I couldn't temper the edgy tone as my blood pressure soared. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes. We need the address."

Water running sounded from the upstairs bathroom. I'd given him plenty of time to get ready, but he was still at it.

Aslan shouted from the top of the stairs, muffled as though from around a toothbrush. "Is it in the pile of mail by the door?"

"There is no mail by the door. I looked." Glancing a second time along the hallway toward the entrance, I confirmed the table contained nothing more than a wicker basket of various keys.

I was not losing my mind. It wasn't there.

"Did you look in the kitchen carrier?" Aslan shouted, voice clearer like he'd spat.

I sneered at the stack of papers I'd gone through twice. "It's not there."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm looking right at it. I'm sure."

The water stopped.

Desperate, I rummaged through the junk drawer—the one I tidied at least three times a month—where Aslan tossed everything but the kitchen sink.

Nothing. No papers.

Aslan appeared. "Did you find it?"

"No. What did you do with it?"

"Me? Nothing. You must have missed it." Buttoning his shirt, he aimed for the front hall and the table I'd already checked three times.

Crossing my arms, I waited for him to return.

"It's not here," he called.

"I know. I said that already."

In the kitchen, Aslan collected the stack of discarded mail I'd been going through. "It's not here either."

I snatched the papers from his hands. "That's what I've been saying. It's gone."

"It's not gone."

"It's gone. Az, we've gone through a hundred applications. Bryn's answers were perfect. She's who I want. Not only has she previously given birth, but she understands what giving up a baby entails. If we don't show up to this meeting, she'll think we aren't serious. Someone else will scoop her up and—"

Aslan grabbed my face and kissed my lips to shut me up. "It will be fine. We don't need the letter. Call her and ask for the address."

"Her phone number is on the letter."

"Oh. Email?"

"Same." My tone grew harsher.

"Well shit. Call the agency and see if they can—"

"It's Saturday."

Aslan threw his hands up. "Who the hell scheduled this meeting on a weekend?"

"Our potential future surrogate," I said between clenched teeth, "because she's in the city to visit her brother, and it was better than us driving three hours to meet her. The agency asked if we were okay with it, and we said yes ."

Aslan glanced at the stack of mail on the counter. "Okay. So we have a problem. Let's think. We got the letter with the details on…" He quirked a brow.

"Monday. When I got home, I collected it from the mailbox and brought it into the kitchen to read."

"Right. I remember. I was cooking."

"Yes. Your infamous spaghetti." I wrinkled my nose.

"Don't make that face."

"You should be ashamed. You call yourself Italian."

"I didn't know the pasta wouldn't cook in the sauce. I was trying to save pots. I hate doing dishes."

"Since when do you ever do the—" Pinching my nose, I closed my eyes and inhaled. "Can we focus on the problem?" I fluttered the stack of mail. "We need to leave in ten minutes and have no destination."

"You brought it in the kitchen, put it on the counter, yelled at me for fifteen minutes straight about the sauce boiling over, and—"

"I didn't yell."

"Hot stuff, our neighbor will back me up on this. Should I call her?

"Fine. I yelled. A little. Then I opened the mail. When I got to the letter…"

Aslan's face softened into a smile. "Instantly, my failed effort at cooking was forgotten."

I couldn't help smiling with him. "It was a big moment."

"Huge."

And we were going to miss the opportunity if we didn't locate the damn letter.

"We both read it while we enjoyed dinner," Aslan said. "Then—"

" Enjoyed is subjective."

He laughed. "We both read it while we ate dinner—miserably because someone couldn't stop complaining. Then we cleaned up—"

" I cleaned up."

"And celebrated." Aslan wiggled his brows.

I remembered that part vividly. "And I left the mail in the carrier like I always do when there are bills or important notifications I want to keep track of."

"Okay, so someone moved it."

"Yeah. You. Where did you put it?"

"Why do you assume it was me?"

"Because I know I didn't touch it, and we're the only two people who live here."

Oscar meowed.

"Unless you have thumbs, you don't count," I said to the cat.

Aslan looked like he was ready to protest when his brows rose. "I did touch it. The next morning, after you left for work, I called Amelia and my mother to tell them the good news. Mom needed to hear every word, so I took the letter out and read it to her."

"And then what did you do with it?"

He shook his head, face blank. "I don't know. I must have put it back."

I gestured at the stack of mail. "You didn't. It's not here."

Aslan paced, running a hand through his hair. "Hang on, hang on. Let me think."

I studied the torn envelopes and flyers, noticing a crusty yellow smear and a smudge of bright red on the top one. I glared from my husband to the stains, lifted it to my nose, and sniffed.

Ketchup, and the envelope underneath had a distinct brown coffee stain on the corner.

"Az, what did you eat for breakfast on Tuesday?"

He stopped mid-pace. "I don't know. Why?"

"Because there's ketchup on this envelope and something that looks like egg yolk. It's not Monday night's spaghetti sauce. Did you call your mom while you were eating?"

"No, I… Yes, I did! I was midway through breakfast. I snagged the stack of mail and brought it to the nook while I finished eating." Aslan's face brightened. "I spilled my coffee, and in a panic to get the mail out of the puddle, I swiped it to the floor, and it landed in Oscar's breakf—Oh shit." He folded his lips inside his mouth.

I blinked several times, processing, staring from the ketchup and yolk stains on the envelope to my suddenly guilt-ridden and rigid husband. "I'm sorry. Oscar's breakfast? His kibble?" I pointed at the stains. "This isn't kibble."

"Quaid, it's not what you—"

I held up a finger. "Yes or no. Did you feed my cat—"

"Our cat."

"Did you feed my cat runny eggs with ketchup again?"

"He likes them." Anticipating my lecture, Aslan held up a mirroring finger. "And I think that is a conversation for another day. We have a letter to find, and we're running out of time."

"Oh, I will remember this. It's not over."

Aslan sighed. "Don't I know it. You have a memory like an elephant."

"What did you do after the coffee mishap?"

Aslan seemed to access his internal memory data bank. "I raced to the counter and grabbed a dish towel to clean it up."

"And the mail?"

"I wiped it clean too… not very well, obviously."

"Where did you put it after you cleaned?"

Again with the internal data bank. "I took it downstairs with me?" He didn't sound sure.

"Downstairs?" Perplexed, I shook my head. "Explain."

"I splashed coffee on my shirt. It was my new white one, so I wanted to throw it in the wash immediately so it didn't stain."

"And you brought the mail downstairs with you?"

"I…don't remember. I don't know why I would do that. I would have returned it to the carrier and gone downstairs, right?"

"Obviously not."

We both raced downstairs. The laundry basket on the floor beside the washer was empty. The shelf where we kept soaps and dryer sheets contained no letter or envelope.

Aslan opened the dryer. Nothing.

He opened the washer…and cringed.

A musty smell hit my nose, and I gasped. "You didn't."

"Quaid—"

"You forgot to put the clothes in the dryer."

"I was in a rush."

"Az, it's been four days. That smell will never come out."

"It will. I've got this." He pushed a button on the machine. Water ran.

"Wait!" I hollered as he reached for the box of soap pods. I slammed a fist against the button, stopping it. "What if you accidentally threw the letter in with your shirt?"

"Shit." He opened the lid and peered into its dark depths.

"Move." I shoved him out of the way and began plucking wet clothes from within. It was more than a single shirt. Underwear, towels, Aslan's gym shorts and tanks, my jogging pants, and several T-shirts were glued against the side of the tub. Everything held a distinctly musty odor from having sat so long.

I removed each piece, shaking them out, wrinkling my nose, and glaring at my husband. "We are going to have a long, long discussion about your complete dismissal of the rules. First the cat, now this. How many times have I told you to separate the darks and lights? Do you want that shirt to stay white?" I shook a red T-shirt in his face. "Because it won't at this rate."

Aslan plucked the white shirt from the pile and examined it. "Still looks white to me."

"Az! Not the point."

"The point is, hot stuff, the letter isn't here."

He was right. I'd gone through all the clothes, and the washer was empty. No wadded-up mess of paper at the bottom. No bits of paper pulp lingered on the fabric.

"Were all these clothes in the basket?" I asked as Aslan reloaded and restarted the machine.

"No, I collected them from…" His eyes widened. "The bedroom. I went to the bedroom and emptied our basket upstairs, and I got the towels from the bathroom because you always tell me not to run a load unless it's full. See, I do listen."

"Poorly."

We ran upstairs.

The time on my phone said we were already late leaving. It was a thirty-minute drive to Bryn's brother's house—where we were supposed to meet—and that was if traffic behaved. I couldn't even call to say we were running late.

In the bedroom, Aslan and I split up, checking the hamper, under the bed, hunting through the mess on top of his dresser and behind the furniture, in case he'd set it down somewhere and it had gotten knocked off.

Nothing.

Anxiety surfaced.

I ran to the bathroom. Searched.

Nothing.

We weren't going to find it. The one surrogate we fell in love with was going to slip through our fingers. She would deem us flakes, tell us we weren't serious about parenthood, and choose someone else.

We would never have a baby. I would never get the family I'd always wanted. We would grow old and…

"Quaid, breathe. We'll find it."

I tore the fresh towel from the rack and flung it at the closed shower curtain. The rod shivered. Bottles of shampoo fell into the tub. "Then where is it, Az!"

He took my arms and forced me to look at him. "Relax. Bryn won't discount us because of simple human error. On Monday, we'll contact the agency and explain everything."

"She won't be in the city on Monday."

"So we'll take a road trip and visit her. If she agrees to have our baby, we'd see her regularly anyhow, right? You'd want to be there for appointments. Ultrasounds."

I still couldn't calm down. My chest hurt. "After you started the laundry, then what did you do?"

"I came back upstairs to find a new shirt for work. It was Tuesday. Torin and I had court at eleven, and—" He tipped his head to the side and grinned.

"What?"

"And that, my sweet semi-neurotic husband, was the day you forgot your lunch and came home to get it."

"Was it?"

"Yes. I remember because I was almost late for court, and Torin asked what took so long, and I shared in explicit detail about how I'd ended up with a morning quicky after all."

It came back to me.

My forgotten lunch.

Jordyn harping because I left her with an undesirable interview while I ran home to get it, refusing to subject myself to takeout later that day.

Flying in the door and finding Aslan beside the couch buttoning a fresh shirt.

Finely honed chest muscles on display. Smelling of cologne and coffee. The heart-melting smile we'd shared, both of us still basking in the news we'd gotten the previous day. One step closer to making a family. One step closer to becoming dads.

Lunch forgotten, I had approached him, taken his face between my palms, and kissed him with vigor. The kiss had turned desperate. His shirt came off instead of going on. Unbeknownst to us, it landed on the couch and suffered the consequences of what followed.

My shirt landed on the floor. Then pants. Underwear.

It was hands and mouths and teeth.

It was fast and desperate.

Sweaty and messy.

My body tingled remembering it.

Jordyn had known the truth upon my return. The flush in my cheeks had remained, my hair in disarray.

I'd forgotten my lunch. Again.

Aslan and I hightailed it downstairs to the living room. The couch cushions flew as Aslan checked underneath them, behind throw pillows, inside the knitted blanket we kept nearby.

I lay on the floor and peered under the furniture. By this point, Oscar gazed curiously from the top of his cat tree, unsure what his humans were up to.

We tore apart the living room.

Nothing.

Defeated, we landed side by side on the couch.

I checked the time. "We're officially late. Our interview is supposed to start in ten minutes."

"I'm sorry. I really thought I put it back in the carrier."

"Maybe we don't deserve to be parents. Look at us. We're a mess."

Aslan adjusted himself to face me. He snagged my chin and gave it a shake. "Stop. This bears no relevance to the type of parents we will be. Things get misplaced."

"She was perfect, Az."

"She'll understand."

Why couldn't I believe him?

"I even told Dad, and you know how superstitious I've been. What if I jinxed us?"

"You didn't."

"Dad hugged me, and I could feel his excitement. I didn't know how badly he wanted to be a grandpa until then. I thought he was going to cry."

"You act like this is the end."

"I know. It's stupid, but I worry when things don't go according to plan, and—"

"Wait." Aslan sat bolt upright on the couch.

"What?"

"When did you tell your dad?"

"On Thursday. I invited him for dinner because you worked late, then you and Tony were going to a meeting… Oh my god." I jolted. "I showed him the letter."

"Ah ha! It wasn't me. See? I knew it wasn't me."

"Shh." I wracked my brain, trying to remember how it had played out with Dad. After I'd given him the news and he'd read the letter from the agency and pressed it against my chest. "He said, ‘Put it somewhere safe so you don't lose it.'"

"And you put it?"

Sheepish, I covered my mouth and stared at my husband, who wore a look of anticipation and glee.

"Quaid? Please tell me this isn't one of those times you put something away to keep it safe and then forgot where you put it."

"It's not."

"Where is it?"

"In the glove box of the Equinox. I put it there so we would have it when we left. I'm so sorry, Az."

He tugged the front of my shirt until I fell on top of him. Then he crushed me in a hug, kissing my temple.

"It's all good, hot stuff. No harm, no foul. Now move that fabulous ass, and let's go meet our baby mama."

"Potential baby mama."

"She'll love us."

I peered into my husband's eyes. "Do you think?"

"I know." He kissed me, and my jitters calmed. "Come on. I'll drive, and you call Bryn and tell her we're running late."

We left Oscar with the mess from our search and headed out the door.

I found the letter exactly where I'd tucked it away for safekeeping. I said a silent prayer to Bryn McMillan that we would click and she would agree to be our surrogate.

As Aslan started the car and pulled out of the driveway, he said, "Since this whole debacle ended up being your fault, I should get a free pass on the laundry and cat lectures."

"Not a chance."

"For the record, my white shirt is still white, and Oscar likes runny eggs and ketchup."

"Nope." My lips twitched. "You're getting a full PowerPoint presentation."

Aslan sighed. "You wouldn't be Quaid otherwise. Have I mentioned I love you?"

"Not since this morning when I was sucking your cock."

Aslan hummed. "That was good."

I waited for the follow-up, I love you , but Aslan was lost in blow job memories. He was such a pig.

Chuckling, I programmed Bryn's number into my phone and hit Connect.

Are you curious to know how Quaid and Aslan got together? These two went from sworn enemies to lovers over the course of a seven-book series titled the Valor and Doyle Mysteries. Grab the prequel here and start their incredible journey today.