10. Lizzy
LIZZY
Mason: Flat or Matte?
I giggle and shake my head, although no one is here to see me. Mason’s going full steam ahead in redecorating his bedroom. I thought he was joking, but clearly, he wasn’t.
Mason: I’m at the store now. I’ve got everything else ready to roll.
Me: Matte is best. It has no sheen and won’t reflect any light.
Mason: Perfect. On it.
No other man has ever been so effortless to be around besides my brother.
I never feel like I have to be someone I’m not around Mason.
He’s easy, but sometimes I pause and wonder if he’s being his true self.
If I’m not pretending, maybe he’s the one who is.
That’s my worry, at least, but every time we’re with his family, he’s the same man around them that he is around me, which tells me I’m being paranoid and silly.
Me: Are you waiting for me to paint?
Part of me wants him to say yes, but there’s another part that doesn’t, because painting can be tedious. Not for me, though. I’d paint a wall weekly if I could and it wouldn’t land me in a mental ward. It’s calming and a great way for me to work through my thoughts and release my stress.
Mason: Want me to? Or I can knock it out before you get here.
I stare at the screen, blinking a few times. I land in Chicago in less than forty-eight hours. That’s not much time to paint and redecorate an entire bedroom, especially one the size of his.
Me: If you want to paint before I get there, go ahead. I’ll do whatever you want, though.
Mason: Anything?
The question is followed by an emoji with a raised brow.
I so badly want to say yes. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands to myself when I’m around him, especially after the heavy make-out session we had when he spent the night.
A woman my age doesn’t typically stop herself, but I know how easily I can get attached, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that type of commitment yet.
Add in the fact that the man looks like he should be on one of his aunt’s book covers and I’m a bit fluffy in most places, and I still can’t think about him seeing me completely naked.
So, instead of feeding into his question, I decide to go another way.
Me: I’m great at hanging drapes.
I swear I can hear him mutter a slew of curses from here, although it’s impossible.
Mason: Are you staying with me or your brother?
I push off the couch and head into my kitchen, needing something cold to drink to quench my thirst that has more to do with my libido than the actual dryness of my throat.
Mason: I’m redoing the guest room too, so no pressure.
The question is ridiculous. We already slept in the same bed before, and I can’t imagine lying alone, knowing he was that close. One of us wouldn’t make it through the night without switching beds.
Me: You.
I guzzle a glass of ice water as he types his reply. I hope I don’t regret the decision to stay with him, but I’m sure Zoey and Hunter will have something to say about it.
Mason: I’ll finish it all before you get here. I want to make sure you sleep as well here as you do at home.
When I close my eyes in my house, I can’t hear a damn thing besides the crickets outside my window. In Chicago, everything is loud, including the night. Sirens ring out, and the train rumbles by. There’s never a moment’s peace, but somehow, I’m able to block it out and sleep.
There’s a knock on my door, and I jump, forgetting that I was expecting Mandy. She’s my oldest friend and has always been my partner in crime. She’s the closest thing to family I have for miles and miles.
“Bitch, open up. It’s cold out here.” Mandy pounds again.
“Coming!” I yell out as I place my phone on the arm of the couch before I make my way to the foyer.
When I open the front door, Mandy’s holding a bottle of our favorite Moscato.
She pushes past me and twirls around to face me as I close the door. “I thought you were going to leave me out there to freeze to death,” she says dramatically, her entire body shaking like she walked through a blizzard.
“It’s forty outside, Didi. It would take longer than a minute for you to freeze to death,” I tell her, taking the bottle of chilled wine from her hand so she can take off her coat and…
I point at her feet and shake my head. “You’re wearing sandals. You’re such a weirdo.”
Mandy kicks off her black plastic sandals and then wiggles her toes as she rocks back on her heels. “I can’t be cooped up this many months. I need to let something be free and breathe. It was my tits or my feet.”
I laugh at my best friend, but I totally understand how she feels. Winter is way too long, and all the clothes are too heavy.
I leave her and her bare feet in the foyer and head toward the kitchen, ready to pour us each a glass of wine. “You picked wisely. I’ve seen your tits, though. They’re spectacular.”
“Yours are pretty fucking great too, babe,” she replies as she plops down on my couch sideways so she can watch me. “I’d kill for your rack.”
I can’t stop myself from looking down at them. The girls are all right. They sag more than I’d like, but that’s because they’re heavy. “You’re ridiculous. Yours are far superior.”
“Mine are small. They’re barely a handful. But yours—” she points at my chest and waggles her eyebrows “—those babies are luscious. Any man would die to hold those puppies every night.”
I wrinkle my nose as I pour two glasses with barely any empty space at the top. “No one’s holding my chest every night.”
“That’s because you’re being silly. It sounds like this Mason guy really likes you, but you’re totally cockblocking him.”
I don’t know which conversation I hate more—my saggy tits or my inability to move forward with Mason.
I walk slowly, careful not to spill a drop. “I’m not cockblocking him,” I tell her, saying each word slowly like somehow my voice is going to make the liquid jump out of the glass.
Mandy takes one from my hand and gives me a look like my mother used to give me when she thought I was out of my mind. “Lizzy.”
“Mandy.” I use the same tone she used when saying my name.
I take the seat next to her, putting my back against the throw pillow. She stares at me over the rim of her glass. “Did you sleep with him in Chicago this time?”
“No.” I don’t add any details as I down half the glass of wine, deciding I need the liquor in my veins sooner rather than later.
“Why not?”
I shrug and take a deep breath. “I’m scared.”
“Jesus,” she mutters as her forehead wrinkles. Disappointment is clearly written all over her face. “Why?”
“He’s beautiful, Didi. The man could have anyone he wanted.”
“Okay.” She nods, and I think I have her on my side until she says, “And he picked you, but you’re still cockblocking him.”
“It’s complicated.”
She curls her leg underneath her and gets more comfortable. She’s preparing for a long conversation I don’t really want to have. “What is?”
“He’s going to be my family.”
“He’s not your family, though.”
“Hunter’s marrying Zoey, who’s his cousin.”
“Okay…and?” Mandy tilts her head. “I don’t get it.”
“Can you imagine if we date and break up, and then I have to see him the rest of my life?”
Mandy slow blinks, staring at me without speaking. Mandy’s never silent, and when she is, it’s time for me to worry.
“I don’t want to ruin anything for Hunter.”
Mandy’s lips twist for a moment before she downs almost her entire glass of wine in one giant mouthful. She sets her glass down on the coffee table and then gives me her full attention. “Listen, asshole.”
“Why are you my best friend?” I ask her.
She waves her hand. “You’re not derailing me. Hunter’s going on wife number two and has the cutest little girl.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
“Be quiet for a minute. Let me get this out.”
I lift my hands, leaning back into the pillow. I ready myself for whatever dose of Mandy reality she plans on handing me.
“It’s your time. Hunter’s had his and is having it again. Stop worrying about what could be if things go bad and start focusing on all the things that could be if everything goes right.”
“Mandy, I?—”
My phone beeps, and Mandy’s eyes move to where it is on the arm of the couch. “Is that him?”
“I don’t know. Did you see me look?” I’m being a smartass. I know it’s him. He has a different beep from everyone else.
Mandy crosses her arms as she tilts her head. “I know you gave him his own tone.”
“How do you know that?”
“You give everyone their own tone.”
Damn it. I hate that she knows me so well. It’s hard to spend thirty-plus years of your life together and not know everything about the other person. I don’t think we have a secret between us, and I usually love that about our relationship.
“Show me a picture of him.”
“You haven’t searched for him online yet?” I ask her, because Mandy is something of a super internet sleuth, especially when it comes to dating and men.
“No, but I will as soon as I get home if you don’t show me his picture right now. I’ll dig up everything I can about him.”
I’m not worried she’ll find anything bad. Mason isn’t that type of guy, and if he were, I would’ve already heard about it from Zoey or Hunter.
“Fine,” I bite out as I reach back and grab my phone. I open my favorite social media app, finding the page for the bar.
I haven’t found Mason’s personal social media accounts, but that’s not surprising since he’s a man. But whoever runs social media for the bar makes sure to put him and Zoey front and center, which is smart because she’s as stunning as he is handsome.
I scroll down, finding my favorite picture of him. “Here,” I tell her, turning the phone in her direction.
Mandy’s quick, snatching the phone from my grip before I have a chance to move. “Oh. My. God. He’s…” She pulls the phone closer to her face. “Fucking fuckable.”
I hang my head and hold back my laughter. Of course she’d think that. The girl’s taste in men is spot-on, but she’s always willing to put herself out there more than me.
“You’re an idiot,” she tells me as her fingers move against the screen.
“Are you zooming in?”
“Duh,” she mutters, studying every single visible inch. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lizzy? This man is drop-dead gorgeous. Look at him. Rippling muscles. His ink is striking. Big brown eyes, full lips.”
“Again, I don’t want to mess anything up.”
“For whom?”
“Hunter.”
“Fuck him.”
“Hey, that’s my brother.”
“I meant Mason. Fuck him, girl.”
“No, you were talking about my brother. I always worry about him.”
“It’s not your job to worry about him. Stop that shit right now. You need to ride this man like he’s a bronco on the beach at sunset.”
I gawk at her, wondering once again why we’re friends.
“Does this have to do with he who shall not be named?”
I sag against the pillow. “No.”
“Liar,” she shoots back. “Get that asshole out of your head. He was a narcissist, and he had a tiny dick too. He doesn’t deserve to live rent-free in your brain for the rest of your life. If you don’t act with Mason, you’re going to regret it until your dying day.”
“I’m staying with him this weekend,” I tell her. Why? I don’t know. I’m obviously a glutton for punishment.
Mandy climbs off the couch, taking her glass from the table and mine from my hands. “This requires more wine.”
I don’t say anything. I’m happy she’s done lecturing me on my self-image and being a cockblocker—at least for a little while.
“You’re going to sleep in his bed but not sleep with him?” she asks from the kitchen as she refills our glasses.
“Yes.”
“Weirdo,” she mutters as she turns back around with a glass in each hand. “You’re not allowed to come back to Star Falls until you fuck him.”
I take the glass from her hand, not replying to her ridiculous directive.
“Does he want to fuck you?”
“Uh, yeah,” I whisper into the glass, unable to meet her eyes.
“Then do it, and don’t worry about your brother’s relationship with his new family.”
The last two words drive a dagger into my heart. I’m his old family. His only family besides Amira. “And if we don’t work out?” I ask her.
“Then you act like an adult and ignore each other at all family functions moving forward.”
I snort, nearly choking on my wine. “That’s being an adult?”
“It’s how I handle people I don’t like.” She shrugs. “You’re going to sleep with this man this weekend, and then I want all the details. I mean all of them.”
“I can’t…”
“Finish that, and then we’re picking out all your clothes for your trip. You’re not wearing things like that.”
I gaze down at my old college sweatshirt and leggings, both of which are spotless and broken-in. “What’s wrong with this?”
“We’re going to glam you up.”
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
“Exactly,” she says with a wink.