Chapter 4 #2
“It’s probably safer if I do this for myself.
” He ate a few more spoonfuls and offered Mason a nod.
“Thanks. For this and for getting me out of there before I crashed. You’re right: Mom would be unbearable and Nadine would spend the next twenty-four hours babying me when I’d rather use that time with Nana.
Mom says she—” The words wouldn’t come out, they had clogged his throat again so he shook his head and scraped out what was left of the cup.
Nana Sutton had never been a warm or affectionate grandmother.
She didn’t do crafts or play games with him and Sarina when they were kids, but she had made the Sutton House their second home and had allowed them to have the run of the place.
Rarely short of an opinion but stingy with compliments, Nana could be intimidating and difficult.
She often lamented that her son, Stewart, was such a shallow idiot and frequently implied that Adele was a manipulative narcissist. She was right, but didn’t hold any of that against Sarina and Sky, thankfully.
“She has slowed down,” Mason confirmed. “Nana’s a stubborn old girl, though, and she’s pretty obsessed with Sam. She might hold out a little longer for him.”
“Do you think so?” That was the best news Sky had heard in days. Maybe weeks or months. He’d been really worried about Nana lately and regretted not being there more over the last few years. “Work has been nonstop. Publishing is exhausting and getting around the city leaves me pretty frazzled.”
“Why stay? You don’t have to work in Manhattan and live in Brooklyn.”
Sky nodded. “I do if I ever want to finish this book and get it published. I’m busting my ass and living in a shoebox, but I’m learning from the best editors and agents in the business. People would kill for this kind of insight and the networking I do on a daily basis.”
“That’s great.” Mason smiled as he opened the other cup and handed it to Sky. “So, you’re happy?”
“Sure.” Sky shrugged. “Is anybody happy at this point in their career? I’m extremely privileged because I went to the right schools and I can afford my crappy apartment in Brooklyn without the meager salary they pay me.”
“You could afford something in Manhattan, if you wanted to be closer to work. You’ve inherited a lot of money.”
Sky’s face pinched at the thought. “My shoebox is all I need and Kayla’s more than my roommate, she’s my lesbian soulmate, and I like the neighborhood we live in.
The people there are nice and normal, for the most part.
I don’t want to pay that kind of money to live near a bunch of rich assholes, just so my commute is easier.
Besides, do you know how weird it would be for an assistant editor to live in Midtown? ”
“I guess…” Mason held up his hands cluelessly. “As long as you’re happy and taking care of yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
That was true enough and all that Mason and Sarina needed to know.
He had just ended things with a pro baseball player and had sworn off closeted masc men.
Sky was tired of sneaking around and hiding when the doorbell rang or there was a FaceTime call.
They weren’t specifically Sky’s type because he was into men of all shapes and sizes.
But Sky was beginning to wonder if it was the toxicity and the eventual disappointment that drew him to closeted, straight-presenting, muscular men.
“I work a lot and I workout a lot when I’m not working,” he summarized.
“I can tell. You look…great, Sky.” Mason’s voice dropped, growing husky as he stared at Sky’s lips.
Sky couldn’t help it, he leaned in and took a cautious sniff. Fuck, Mason still smelled perfect. Like clean boy and good aftershave, plus a hint of mint from his breath. “Do you think so?”
Mason nodded faintly, focused on Sky’s neck as he raised his hand. “I really like these.” He traced the vines and blue skyflowers and the moon under Sky’s ear. “And I like your nails.”
They had been painted dark purple but the polish was worn and chipped.
“I’m lucky, we don’t have a dress code and my bosses don’t care if I cover myself in ink or wear makeup or dye my hair ten different colors.
Self-expression is encouraged as long as we don’t ask for raises or mention unions.
” He rolled his eyes and nodded at Mason.
“I like your beard. It makes you look like a lumberjack or like you still play hockey, even though you complained about blisters every time you had to pick up an ax or a shovel.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed. “I chop wood all the time now. We go through a ton of it in the winter and it’s not always easy to get it delivered when you need it. I spend most of my time shoveling driveways and sidewalks when it snows.”
“That explains all of this.” Sky gave Mason’s bicep and his shoulder appreciative squeezes. He had always been fit but Mason had gained more mass and was filling out his black suit rather nicely. “Are you drinking shakes and slamming protein while you workout?” he babbled awkwardly.
“No.” Mason shook his head. “I just eat as sensibly as I can and try to get at least half an hour in the garage before I go to bed. I still play a little hockey and I was planning to help out with the youth league once Sam’s old enough to tag along and maybe play.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You workout in the garage?”
Mason chuckled. “We only have two vehicles and my truck is fine outside, so I use the extra space for my free weights and the treadmill. It’s not that fancy but I put a TV in there so I can watch the news or car shows while I’m running.”
“I don’t like running on treadmills. By ‘news or car shows’ I assume you mean cartoons.”
“Of course. I still think cars are boring and I get enough of politics and other people’s problems when I go into the office.” Mason grinned cheekily.