4. Lizzy
LIZZY
I groan as I stare at myself in the mirror, clutching my stomach. There’s such a thing as too much cake. I tested the limits and lost. This is the last thing I need.
Mason didn’t say tonight was a date, but for the first time, it feels like it could be. Something feels different this trip. The air is a bit heavier when Mason is around, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the pull I feel toward him.
“You look stunning,” Zoey says, leaning in the bathroom doorway as she stares at my reflection.
“I wish I felt as good as you think I look.”
She moves her hand to her stomach. “I’m feeling it too. Way too much sugar.”
I relax a little at her words, figuring I’m not near a panic attack and that it is all the cake that is making my stomach a mess. “It was hard to resist.”
“Yeah,” she says as she pulls her phone from her back pocket. “Where are you two headed tonight?”
“I don’t know.” I lean forward, dabbing the inner corner of my eyes to smooth a rough patch of makeup. “Mason planned everything.”
“You sure you two don’t want to stay in and play a game with us?” she asks.
“No!” Hunter yells from the kitchen. “They want to go out.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “My brother obviously doesn’t feel the same.”
“A man has needs!” he shouts back.
Zoey rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I hope you have fun. We won’t wait up for you.”
I turn around and face her. “Am I making a mistake?”
She straightens and tilts her head, looking at me like I’ve grown another limb. “Why do you ask that?”
I shrug, and the butterflies return, mixing with the aftermath of the wedding cake. “I really like him, and he really likes me. Are we just teasing ourselves? We live in two different states.”
“Eh,” she mumbles, waving me off. “Don’t put that much thought into anything. Just have some fun tonight.”
Don’t put that much thought into anything?
That’s easier said than done. When I’m with him, nothing else matters.
The world melts away, and I forget about the distance that’s normally between us.
But the moment he’s away, all the doubts and reasons why I haven’t let anything more happen come roaring back.
“Mason’s here,” Hunter calls from the living room.
My heart instantly picks up the pace, and my palms turn sweaty. “Wish me luck.”
“Babe you’ve already got his full attention. I’m more worried about the cake in our bellies than you needing luck on this date.”
The final word rings in my ears. Date. It’s the elephant in the room. I consider Mason a good friend, someone I know I can lean on in times of need. But is he more? Are we both dancing around the word because we are equally scared to death of rejection and terrified of commitment?
It is laughable, really. A man like Mason Gallo doesn’t fear rejection. The man is as smooth as fine wine, and I’ve seen the way the women at the bar, and just about everywhere else we go, fawn over him. Confidence oozes off him and draws women to him like moths to a flame.
“Thanks,” I tell her, giving her a peck on the cheek before she steps aside, letting me leave the bathroom first.
“You’ve got this,” she says from behind me as she follows me to the living room.
I snag my purse off the hook in the hallway, hooks I added because my brother didn’t have anywhere to hang a damn thing. I always forget about all the little things men don’t have to deal with, like purses. “I’m ready,” I say as I gaze down at my outfit, making sure everything is in order.
When my head tips up and my eyes meet Mason’s, I come to a stuttering stop. The man looks better than ever. How’s that possible? I’m not entirely sure. Maybe my hormones are out of control, and my entire body is reacting to his closeness.
Mason has on black dress pants, a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of black boots that are more on the dressy side than his usual. “Hey,” he says, his voice smooth as butter.
“Hey,” I say back, unable to think of some cute, pithy reply because my brain is on the fritz.
“Do you feel the crackle?” Zoey says behind me.
Normally, this type of situation wouldn’t be so awkward, but with Zoey and Hunter staring at us, it’s hella weird.
Mason’s dark eyes never leave me, and he ignores his cousin and my brother as he holds out his hand. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I breathe as my feet move forward until the tips of my fingers touch his.
He steadies me as I push my feet into my boots, wishing spring would stick. The constant change in weather from hot to cold has my head spinning.
I try to ignore the warmth of his hand as his fingers curl around mine, but it’s damn near impossible. The man is like a furnace, and my mind wanders, imagining snuggling up with him on a cold winter night.
“Don’t wait up,” he tells my brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law as I straighten. “We’ll be out late.”
I raise my eyebrows, but I don’t say anything. It’s nothing new. Mason’s a night owl, and Zoey’s no different. When you own a bar, nighttime is when you thrive. But for me, a woman with a corporate job, I am more of a morning person and drag ass as the hours pass.
“Have fun,” Zoey calls out as Mason opens the door, ushering me into the hallway.
When we’re alone, I finally feel like I can breathe because we don’t have two extra sets of eyes on us. Being picked up by a man as an adult in front of my brother is somehow more awkward than what I experienced as a teenager with my parents as an audience.
“Where are we headed?” I ask as he stabs at the elevator button.
“It’s a surprise, but I know you’ll love it,” he says, pulling me closer to his side.
The restaurant is stunning. We don’t have anything like this back home. The ceiling is glass with the stars of the clear night sky twinkling above us. The brick walls give the space a warm feel, along with the plants and books that line the walls.
“I don’t think I’ve been to any place this fancy.”
My hometown is simple. We have a few restaurants, many of which are only open for breakfast and lunch. They lack the ambiance and charm this place has in abundance.
Mason grabs the wine bottle, topping off my glass. “It’s new. I’ve heard amazing things about the food, and I thought you’d love it.”
“I do,” I tell him as I take my glass, knowing I should slow down on the wine.
I haven’t eaten much of anything all day besides the cake.
“I’m going to be drunk if the food doesn’t come soon.”
Mason smirks, and my stomach flips. “Would that be so bad?”
I smile, the alcohol making everything seem like a good idea, even the hangover that I’ll inevitably have tomorrow. “I always drink too much with you.”
He leans forward, staring me right in the eyes. “Why is that?”
I nearly swallow my own tongue over the heaviness of his gaze. “I don’t know,” I whisper, but I’m lying.
“I think you do,” he replies. “Do I make you nervous?”
The breath in my lungs lodges in my throat as all the air in the restaurant seems to evaporate. “A little.”
He slides his hand across the table, his fingertips touching mine. “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.”
“I know,” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away from his.
“Do you?”
“I do.”
I know that about him. I know his family, and every interaction with Mason has always been great. The man makes my toes curl with a simple glance, and all his sweetness makes every fiber in my body come alive in his presence.
“I want to ask you something.”
I search his face, trying to figure out what he’s about to ask before he opens his mouth. I do my best to prepare myself for anything, but I’ve failed to think of the one thing he says next.
“Do you like me?” he asks.
I blink, staring at him. Is the man clueless? I may not fawn over him like other women, but I do turn into a fumbling idiot around him in a heartbeat. I always thought he clocked my weirdness, but maybe I hid it better than I thought.
“I do.”
He smiles, and it’s my turn to get a little bolder in my words and actions. The wine doesn’t hurt when it comes to me living a little more dangerously.
“Do you like me?” I ask him back.
“I do.”
I suck in a breath, wondering if we’re playing with fire.
Mason is the one person in the city I count as a friend. In fact, he is more of a best friend and someone who doesn’t have to hang out with me because we’re related.
“What’s stopping us?” he asks.
“About three hundred miles.”
“Right. That.” His voice is laced with humor, breaking the tenseness of the moment.
“And then there’s the possibility we wouldn’t work out. It would make holidays a bit…” My voice drifts off with my thoughts as I try to picture a future like that. One where Mason isn’t in it as a friend, but a foe…someone who broke my heart.
“Shitty.”
I nearly spit out the sip of wine that barely made it past my lips. “I was going for awkward, but shitty works too.”
“Have you ever thought about moving?” he asks.
“A few times, especially since Hunter and Amira are here. I don’t have any other family back home. The only thing keeping me there is my job, which I’ve spent over a decade carefully building.”
“I’m sure you could find something comparable here in the city.”
“Sure, but I’d be at the bottom instead of halfway up that impossible corporate ladder.”
Mason wrinkles his nose. “I never wanted that life. How do you deal with the stress?”
I lift the wineglass. “This helps.”
Mason’s face softens as he stares at me across the table. “What are your life goals and dreams?”
I gaze at him as I lean back in my chair. The question throws me for a loop. It’s a deeper topic than I’m used to when I hang out with him. We usually keep the conversation casual and light, but tonight, things are getting heavy in a hurry. “To be happy,” I answer simply.
“And are you?”
“Not really,” I admit, my voice softer than I expected. “I used to be, but I’m not really anymore.”
“What’s changed?” he pushes.
“Everything that matters to me is here.”
“When we’re old and have only a few heartbeats left, are you going to be happy you stayed for your job or sad for all the time you missed with the people most important to you?”
Damn. Why does he turn into such a sage at the most inopportune times? “I’ve thought about that a million times, Mason.”
“Here we are,” our waiter says, interrupting the topic before Mason can question me further. Hopefully the subject is dropped…at least for now.
“This looks amazing,” I say as the man sets down my plate, and my mouth instantly waters from the aroma.
The presentation is over the top, exactly what I expect from a Chicago restaurant. Everything about the city is bigger and better than anything we have back home. Even the department store in the heart of downtown has multiple levels and is exhausting.
“Do you need anything else?” the waiter asks.
Mason looks at me, and I shake my head. “We’re good. Thank you,” he tells the waiter, and we’re left alone again.
Before I have a chance to take my first bite, Mason asks, “Do you love your work?”
I stare at him as I place a piece of filet in my mouth. It instantly melts, and it gives me a moment to think about his question.
Do I love it? I’ve spent a decade climbing up to where I am now. I’d thought by the time I got to this level, I’d be filled with joy, but the complete opposite is true. The pressure is more. The stress is greater. Nothing seems to be as sweet as it was when I first started in the business.
“Do you love yours?”
“I do. Every day is different. Life at the bar is far from boring.”
“Is it stressful?” I ask.
“Nah. It’s always a good time.”
I’m more than a little envious of the look in his eyes when he talks about the Hook & Hustle. I don’t remember the last time I thought my job was a good time.
“I refuse to do anything that doesn’t bring me joy. Life’s too short to be miserable, Lizzy.”
I know better than anyone how quickly our time on earth can end. My parents were young when they passed, compared to most of the world’s population.
“Change isn’t easy for me.”
“I think that’s true for most people, but sometimes it’s worth the hassle for whatever comes after.”