Chapter 17 #2
“Of course he did.” I turned back to the city lights. “The question is why.”
“Does it matter?”
“Doesn’t it?” I gripped the railing harder. “Someone at our firm is clearly suspicious enough about us to pull that little stunt. And your reaction pretty much confirmed whatever he was thinking.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Mason glanced up at the sky. “Kiss you in front of everyone?”
The words hit like a physical blow. “Would that be so terrible?”
“Beau—”
“No, I’m serious. Would it be the end of the world if people knew about us?”
Mason looked at me finally, his jaw tightening. “You know it’s not that simple.”
“Actually, it is that simple. But you’re not ready to admit it.
” I picked up my drink from where I’d set it on the railing and took a long sip.
“You’ve been weird lately, Mason. Distant.
In your head. And I’ve been trying to give you space, trying not to push, but wondering if maybe you’re pulling away because you’ve realized this—” I gestured between us, “—is too hard. Too complicated.”
“That’s not—” Mason ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I haven’t been pulling away.”
“Really? Because it sure feels like you have.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“About...” Mason trailed off, his expression conflicted. “About a lot of things. My father. Caroline. Their wedding. Where my life is going.”
“And apparently none of those things includes talking to me about it.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about the truth?” I set my glass down harder than I meant to. “How about ‘Beau, I’m going through something and I need to work through it’ instead of just shutting me out?”
“I wasn’t shutting you out.”
“You were!” My voice rose slightly. “You’ve been in your own head all week, barely present when we’re together, and when I try to ask you about it, you just say work is stressful. That’s shutting me out, Mason.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Mason, I want you to let me in.
” I turned to face him fully. “We’ve been sneaking around, pretending we’re just co-workers.
And I’ve been okay with it because I thought we were building toward something.
But lately, it feels like we’re just... stuck.
Like we’re never going to move forward.”
“I want to move forward.” Mason stared at his shoes.
“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re perfectly content keeping us a secret forever.” I swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I stepped closer. “We can’t keep doing this, Mason. The hiding, the pretending. Tonight with Paul—that’s just the beginning. People are going to notice. Asking questions. And we need to figure out what we’re going to say when they do.”
“I know,” Mason mumbled.
“So, what do we do?”
Mason looked at me, and for the first time all week, I saw past the careful mask he’d been wearing. I saw fear and longing and something I couldn’t name, all tangled up with the panic that had been there under the mistletoe.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I’m trying to figure it out.”
“Well, figure it out faster. Because I can’t keep doing this.” My voice cracked. “I can’t keep loving someone who won’t let me.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “Beau—”
The terrace door burst open, and Lisa stuck her head out. “Sorry to interrupt, but Patsy is reaming Paul out in front of half the firm! You guys need to come see this.”
I looked at Mason, and he looked at me, and the moment hung between us—heavy with everything we weren’t saying.
“We should go back in,” I said finally.
“Beau, wait.”
“Later, Mason. We’ll talk later.”
I walked past Lisa back into the party, leaving Mason on the terrace. My hands were still shaking, and my chest felt tight, but at least I’d said something. At least I’d stopped pretending everything was fine.
Inside, a small crowd had gathered near the bar where Patsy was speaking to Paul in a low, firm voice that somehow carried across the room.
“—inappropriate and unprofessional,” she was saying. “This is a work event, Paul. Not a fraternity party. You don’t put colleagues in uncomfortable situations for your own amusement.”
“I was just trying to have some fun—”
“At other people’s expense.” Patsy’s voice was ice. “That mistletoe stunt was calculated and mean-spirited, and you know it. Consider this a warning. If I see behavior like that again, we’ll be having a very difficult conversation in my office.”
Paul’s face had gone red. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now go enjoy the party. And Paul?” She waited until he looked at her. “Grow up.”
The crowd dispersed quickly, people suddenly very interested in their drinks or the pianist or literally anything other than Paul’s public dressing-down. Lisa appeared at my side, her eyes bright with satisfaction.
“That was beautiful,” she whispered. “Patsy Hollingsworth is my hero.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, but I was watching Mason slip back into the party through the terrace doors. He caught my eye across the room, and I saw the question there—Are we okay?
I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know.
* * *
I left the party an hour later, after making enough small talk to avoid suspicion and drinking enough bourbon to feel pleasantly numb. Mason tried to catch my eye several times, but I avoided him. I wasn’t ready to hear whatever he had to say.
Lisa walked me out. “You okay?”
“No. But I will be.”
“Want me to come over? We can watch terrible movies, eat ice cream, and trash-talk men.”
“I appreciate it, but I think I need to be alone tonight.”
She hugged me tight. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”
“I will. Thanks, Lisa.”
I drove home through the quiet Richmond streets, the city lights blurring together. When I finally reached my apartment, I went straight to my bedroom.
The compass sat on my dresser, wrapped in silver paper with a navy blue bow.
So you always know where home is.
I picked it up, feeling the weight of it in my hands. I’d been so sure when I bought it. So fucking sure that Mason was my person, that we’d figure it out together.
But you can’t build a home with someone who won’t let you in.
My phone buzzed. A text from Mason.
Can we talk?
I stared at the message for a long time before typing back-
Not tonight. I need to think.
His response came immediately-
I understand. But Beau—I meant what I said. I want to move forward. I’m just scared.
I know. I’m scared too. But we can’t let fear make all our decisions.
Goodnight, Mason.
Goodnight.
I set my phone down and lay on my bed, still fully dressed in my expensive suit. The compass sat on my nightstand, wrapped and ready, waiting for a moment I wasn’t sure would ever come.
Outside my window, Richmond sparkled with Christmas lights. It should have felt magical, festive, full of possibility.
Instead, it just felt lonely.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about Mason on that terrace, his face full of fear and longing when I’d said I couldn’t keep loving someone who wouldn’t let me.
I’d said it. The L-word. And he hadn’t said it back.
Was that how Mason felt about me?