Chasing Someday

by Lindzee Armstrong

  Contents

  Get a Free Story!

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Three Months Later

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Discussion Questions

  Get a Free Story!

  No Match for Love series

  Other Books by Lindzee Armstrong

  Sweet 'N Spicy Reads

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright Page

  To my husband, Neil,

  who never let me stop believing that

  one day our babies would come.

  And to my sons, who proved that

  miracles exist.

  When Megan imagined life as a married woman, it didn’t start at six a.m. each day with Beethoven’s Fifth and a thermometer. The alarm interrupted her dream, and she wanted to roll over and burrow deeper into sleep. But any movement would raise her basal body temperature and skew the reading.

  Trent leaned over to turn off the alarm, jostling the bed. Megan’s eyes burned from lack of sleep, but she forced them open against the sandpaper begging her to keep them closed. Maybe packing until two a.m. hadn’t been such a good idea.

  “Open wide and say ‘ah,’” Trent teased, slipping the thermometer under her tongue.

  He thought he was so clever.

  Trent rolled out of bed and changed into his running clothes. Really, today? Surely moving gave her a free pass from their daily run. He’d moved on to stretching by the time the thermometer beeped. Ninety-six point seven degrees. She didn’t have to look at the chart in her phone to know she still wasn’t ovulating. Her temperature hadn’t peaked once in eight months.

  “I’m ready to brave the cold when you are,” Trent said cheerfully from where he stretched out his calf muscles against the door-frame.

  She wasn’t going to obsess about infertility. Not today. After five and a half years, she could afford to take a few hours off, especially with so many other things taking up brain space right now.

  “Don’t you think we should skip the run?” Megan asked. “We still have half the house to pack.” They’d signed the papers two days ago, but the new owners agreed they had until five o’clock today to be out.

  “You told me last night that under no circumstances should I let us skip our run today. You said if we did, it’d be easier to skip tomorrow.” He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “Let’s go.”

  She had said that. Curses.

  They were out the door within minutes. The brisk March air, so cold it took her breath away, made Megan long to be in her warm bed. Even packing sounded better than this. She hated running, but it helped keep her weight down—a necessity for favorable results when undergoing fertility treatments—and she loved spending time with Trent. Even though they were officially “on a break” from treatments, she couldn’t let her daily rituals slide, or they’d lose ground when they started again.

  They ran in silence for nearly ten minutes, mostly uphill toward campus. Megan mentally cataloged all the things she’d rather do: pack up the rest of their things, load everything up, clean the house for the new owners. “You’re leaving to pick up the moving truck as soon as we get home, right?” Her words came in tiny puffs, clouds of condensation appearing with each breath.

  “Megan, relax. Take this all in for a moment.” Trent’s breathing wasn’t even labored. How annoying. There was no justice in the world. They’d been running almost every day for more than two years, but Megan still sucked at it. “This is the last time we’ll run this path,” Trent continued. “Enjoy it.”

  He was right. For the rest of the run she tried to soak in the view, but it only brought up painful reminders of how much she would miss the small town of Logan. There was the music hall, where Trent had picked her up after so many classes. The student center, where they’d first met. The statue of the A, where they’d stood so she could become a “true Aggie” by kissing Trent at midnight under a full moon. Logan was the only city they’d ever known each other in. Here they’d met, dated, married, bought their first house, graduated college . . . experienced their first disappointments as a couple. Megan’s breaths came in ragged gasps, sending sharp pains through her chest.

  “Are you going to miss it?” she asked as they rounded the road to their home.

  “I’m ready to move on. I have a good feeling about this, Meg.”

  She glanced over at Trent and had to smile. His tall, lean body made running look effortless, and a scruffy beard and kind eyes complimented the country twang she adored. Most would call him average, but he had always been handsome to her.

  The heat of the town house burned after growing used to the frigid air, and her hands tingled as they started to thaw. They weaved through the boxes littering their living room and headed toward the kitchen.

  “I’m leaving to pick up the moving truck.” Trent grabbed his wallet and keys off the kitchen table.

  “Want me to drive you?”

  “Nah. It’s only a mile away—I’ll run.”

  “Sure. It’s not like we just ran five miles.”

  Trent grinned, giving her a quick kiss. “Be back soon.”

  Megan prepared her breakfast with a scowl. Too bad she didn’t love running and eating healthy like Trent did. Instead she spent her mornings gagging down half a supposedly fertility-inducing grapefruit and three pills—a prenatal vitamin, folic acid, and Metformin. The Metformin helped with her insulin resistance, a common issue in women with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, but tasted awful. She tossed a handful of crackers into her mouth after swallowing to kill the taste and keep the nausea caused by the pills at bay, then started packing. She’d just opened the bottom kitchen cabinets when the front door creaked open.

  “Knock knock,” came a familiar voice.

  Cami. Fan-freakin’-tastic. Of course she’d be the first one to arrive. Megan swallowed, trying to curb the jealousy that roared within her. Nothing had changed—not really. She was happy for Cami.

  “Hey,” Megan said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “What are neighbors for? I’m at your disposal.” Cami removed her winter coat and laid it on a chair. Megan tried not to stare at the way her belly protruded. With each pregnancy she seem
ed to show sooner.

  Megan forced herself to sound upbeat. “Do you want to wrap the dishes, and I’ll pack them?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Megan handed Cami the bubble wrap and packing tape. “Thanks. I really appreciate the help.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. I can’t believe this is your last day here.” Cami blinked rapidly, and tears stung Megan’s own eyes.

  Leaving would be harder than she’d expected.

  “I can’t believe it either,” Megan said. It had only been four weeks since Trent accepted the manager job at the car mechanic shop in Riverton. “Trent’s so excited about this promotion. I’m trying to be excited too.”

  Cami’s shirt stretched over her rounded belly as she reached for a baking dish, and Megan looked away. Cami had moved in next door only two months after Megan and Trent bought their town house. At the time, they’d all been newlyweds eager to start a family. When Cami had announced her first pregnancy, Megan was thrilled. Surely she’d follow in Cami’s footsteps soon. When Cami announced her second, it stung. Megan and Trent had been trying almost three years by that point. When Cami announced her third pregnancy a few months ago, it was an anvil to the chest.

  It wasn’t fair. Helpless rage welled in Megan’s chest, and she fought to keep her face impassive. After five and a half years of trying, all she and Trent had to show for their efforts was a stack of doctor’s bills and enough negative pregnancy tests to fill a bassinet.

  “A new beginning will be good for you,” Cami said. “I think you need a change of pace. Maybe in Riverton you can finally slow down and relax.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. Stress was Cami’s favorite explanation for why Megan didn’t have a baby. “Yeah, and if we relax, all our problems will disappear.” As if PCOS—the disease causing Megan’s infertility—would evaporate with a day at the spa.

  “You know I didn’t mean . . .”

  And there Megan went, being a jerk again. Why couldn’t she keep her comments to herself? “I know. Sorry.” Time to change the subject. “‘Relaxing’ isn’t the word I would use to describe this move.”

  “Uh-oh. Don’t tell me you sold the house to obnoxious people. Were they a pain in the butt to work with? Am I going to have to move to get away from them?”

  Megan laughed. “I got you good neighbors. Promise.” As a real estate agent, Megan had sold dozens of homes over the past few years. Selling her own had been different. Harder. She hadn’t realized how closely her dreams were tied to this house until they’d signed the papers.

  Megan’s phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket. Trent. “Hey. I thought you’d be home with the moving truck by now.”

  “I’m on my way home. Without the truck.” Weariness saturated the line.

  “What?” She’d called last night and confirmed their reservation. “What’s going on?”

  “I got there, filled out the paperwork, took the keys out to the truck, and it wouldn’t start. They’re sending one up from Bountiful, but it won’t be here for a couple of hours.”

  Megan ran a shaky hand through her hair, her heart racing with panic. “Isn’t there one closer?”

  “No. I made him check. Twice. For the inconvenience, they’re delivering it to the house.”

  “How generous of them. What are we going to do?”

  “There’s nothing we can do. We’ll work quickly when it gets there.”

  As soon as Megan hung up the phone, Cami asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Megan quickly explained the situation. “This will set us back hours, and we’re already on such a tight schedule.”

  “We’ll pick up the pace then.”

  Gratitude flowed through Megan, and for a moment she could almost forget Cami carried a child.

  The moving truck didn’t arrive until after eleven—four hours late. Helpful neighbors filtered in and out of the town house all day, but there were still a handful of boxes in the living room and the old piano to move when Laura and Dale Anderson’s car pulled into the driveway.

  Megan’s stomach dropped. It couldn’t be five already. She grabbed her cell phone. 3:58 p.m. The new owners were an hour early.

  Frustration welled up inside, but Megan stamped it back. They were excited. She’d shown them enough homes before they picked hers to know that. Time to handle this professionally. She was the real estate agent, not the home owner.

  Except she totally was the home owner. And she really wanted the chance to say goodbye to the house in private.

  Megan walked toward Laura and Dale like a condemned prisoner facing her executioners. “I’m so sorry,” Megan told them. “The moving truck arrived four hours late, and we’re running behind. We’ll finish up as quickly as we can.” They still had an hour, after all.

  Dale wrapped an arm around Laura’s waist. “I know we’re a little early. Laura couldn’t wait.”

  “Do you mind if we start moving a few things in?” Laura asked.

  Megan’s smile froze.

  “Laura, hon, leave them alone,” Dale said. “We don’t want to get our boxes mixed up with theirs.”

  “We could put them in a room that’s already been emptied,” Laura said.

  Mine, mine, mine! Megan felt like a petulant child refusing to share. She didn’t want them in her house. Not yet. How would she handle this as a real estate agent? “We still have things scattered everywhere,” she hedged. A blatant lie, but Megan didn’t care.

  “Patience, dear,” Dale said to Laura. “We can wait an hour.”

  “I appreciate it,” Megan said, relaxing. “We’ll hurry.”

  Cami came up behind Megan as Laura and Dale pulled away. “Are those the new owners? A little anxious, aren’t they?”

  “It’s their first home.” Megan stuck her hands into her back pockets and hollered to the moving truck. “Let’s pick it up, Trent.” She was desperate to have a chance to say goodbye.

  Soon the ancient piano, a hand-me-down from Trent’s mother, was the only thing left. Five years ago Megan had insisted it be the first thing into the house, and now it was the last thing out. The wood held countless chips and dings from fifty years of moving trips, and a few stray pen marks decorated the side from when Trent was a toddler with artistic aspirations. It wasn’t the grand piano Megan dreamed of, but it played beautifully. She’d make sure it was the first thing unloaded in Riverton, where she already had new piano students lined up.

  Megan kept glancing at her phone as they rushed to load the last of their belongings. Fifty-eight minutes. Forty-five minutes. Thirty-nine minutes. One by one their friends and neighbors left. As Megan thanked them for their help, her phone burned against her thigh. When everyone but Cami had gone, Megan pulled out her phone. Twenty-two minutes until the house was no longer hers.

  “I guess this is it,” Cami said, tears glistening in her eyes.

  And that’s when it hit Megan. They were really leaving. No more spending lunch breaks at the park with Cami and her daughters. No more complaining about the homeowners association. No more whispering in church.

  Megan pulled Cami into a hug, the growing stomach pressed between them. Megan froze. She loved Cami, but it was good Megan was leaving. Watching Cami’s stomach blossom with new life a third time, while Megan’s remained empty, was unbearable. She’d be a better friend from far away. But she would miss Cami all the same.

  “Thanks so much for your help today,” Megan said.

  “I’m going to miss you. We’ll keep in touch, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Cami left, and at last Trent and Megan were alone. The house was theirs for eighteen more minutes. As they wandered through the rooms, a thousand memories assaulted Megan—the carpet in one corner of the living room, slightly discolored from spilled hot chocolate. The pantry door that wouldn’t stay shut because of the broken latch. The living room carpet with permanent creases from where the piano had sat.

  Goodbye. Why was it so hard?

  They ended up
in the master bedroom. “Are you okay?” Trent asked, taking Megan’s hand into his.

  “Moving feels like giving up.” She stood in the middle of their empty room, overcome by the urge to sit down and cry. The house felt strange and alien with all the pictures taken down and the furniture absent. So empty. So lifeless. She ran her fingers along the sage green paint until it met with the bathroom door-frame. How many pregnancy tests had come back negative in here? Fifteen? Twenty?

  “We’re not giving up, Megan.”

  “I never imagined we would leave here as a family of two.”

  Trent wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She clutched at his hands, leaning into him.

  “We’ll start over in Riverton,” he said. “Let’s forget all the bad memories and make new ones. Good ones.”

  “I bet we could’ve bought a grand piano with all the money we spent on pregnancy tests.”

  “Let’s not talk about that today.”

  She sighed. “I know, I know. If we can laugh at our infertility, we can live with it.”

  He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

  A knock at the front door interrupted them. Megan checked her cell phone and closed her eyes, wanting to scream in frustration. She still had nine minutes.

  “I’m not ready to leave,” she told Trent. “I need to say goodbye.”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll distract them for a few more minutes.”

  She wandered alone across the hall. In her mind, this guest bedroom had always been dusted in pink, with a white crib in the corner and a baby mobile crooning a lullaby. In the beginning, when a baby had seemed like a certainty, she’d even purchased a few items on clearance. So many dreams.

  None of them had come true.

  A burst of laughter floated up from the front entryway, stealing the moment from her. Megan looked down at her phone. Five o’clock exactly. This room would now forever belong to what should have been. She gave the nursery one last longing look, then shut the door.

  In the front entryway Laura glowed, her eyes bright with excitement. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to rush you.”

  “I know you’re excited,” Megan said.

  Dale put an arm around Laura’s waist. “For more reasons than one. We found out last week that Laura’s pregnant. I want to hurry and get the furniture brought in so she has somewhere to lie down if she gets tired.”