Julia
JULIA
It starts with a kiss.
Then dinners and dates.
It starts with a smile.
Your evenings run late.
It tempts and teases.
And makes you want more.
But it’s not how it starts,
When it can only end in war.
T here’s something about him tonight. Something darker that I didn’t see before. It’s the way he looks at me like I should be running from him. It both scares me and lures me in.
Lifting the glass to my lips, my one and only glass, I finish off the sweet wine.
“Did you write today?” Mason asks. We’ve made a bit of small talk and light conversation. I’m still feeling him out. I thought I wanted this thing between us but the air changed a bit ago, and the tension is something else now. Like we’re at war, although I don’t know why.
“I did, yes.” Every bit of it was about Jace, though. Something I’d rather not bring up with Mason. I pick up my glass again, finding it empty and cursing internally.
I head off whatever other questions he has for me by saying, “Why dinner tonight and not just drinks after?” My voice is low, nearly accusatory, but unlike what happened earlier, he doesn’t seem to mind.
It takes a moment for him to respond, but he does. “Because I had to eat and so did you.”
He takes another bite of his steak and then asks, “Would you rather we were just having drinks tonight?”
“Yes.” My answer is immediate. He doesn’t seem taken aback. He’s calm, unmoving and unbothered.
“Why’s that?”
I can’t look him in the eyes as my fingers nervously move up and down the silverware. I don’t know how to put it out there. “How did you know my name?” I ask him.
“From the papers,” Mason says and then quickly takes a sip of his drink.
I nod my head. That’s how everyone knows me. “The papers?” I say, hoping he’ll elaborate.
“I’ve read a few things.”
“Then you may have me at a disadvantage. The papers know far too much about me,” I joke, seemingly innocent, but I’m sure he’s aware that I’m prodding.
“That’s possible, probable even.” He smirks at me, his brilliant smile adding to his charm.
I try not to let it affect me, but I’m at his mercy whenever he looks at me like that.
I consider the facts and list out all the reasons I have to end this.
Maybe the conversation with Kat got to me more than I thought.
I’m vulnerable. Check.
I’ve never done this before. Check.
I don’t know that I’m okay with this. Check.
And a man like Mason could crush me. Check a thousand times.
“Well, all I know about you is that you’re a bit of player,” I say and dare to hold his gaze.
“I used to be, yes.”
“Used to?” There’s a tension between us. It’s hot to the touch and it makes me want to move closer to him, but I know that I need to keep my distance right now.
“Yes, used to. I mean it. I used to be … more unattached, then I met someone.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised by his confession and also by the immediate reaction I have to him meeting someone who made him want to settle down. Maybe all the thoughts and emotions are playing on my face, because Mason continues.
“She’s not in the picture anymore and it wasn’t anything serious at all.” He answers my questions before I have to ask them and I’m grateful for that. “It just changed things for me.”
I wish I could keep my expression neutral but I’ve never been very good at hiding what I’m feeling, and this mix of curiosity and even jealousy surely isn’t becoming. “So now you want someone to fuck and take to dinners?”
A deep rough chuckle vibrates up his chest and the way he smiles at me does something to me that makes me reconsider my list of reasons.
“Someone, no.” His eyes heat and he licks his bottom lip as he adds, “You, yes.”
I huff out a small breath and peer down at my nearly empty plate before looking back up to him.
“I want to take you out, bring you back home and lay you down in my bed.” He holds my gaze as he says the words so calmly.
I fight the urge to look around the room filled with families and couples to make sure no one’s heard us.
My body is on fire with the thought of him doing just that, over and over.
But the part where he talks about taking me out …
that makes this seem serious. It practically begs for drama, given my history as a socialite.
Whatever this is between us … I don’t want that out there for all the judging eyes.
“I feel …” I trail off as I realize I don’t know how I feel, and with that frustration I lay down my silverware.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t really like going out anymore.” I blurt out the confession and feel sick to my stomach.
“You don’t like going out?” He frowns.
“It just makes me anxious because of something that happened. Something that maybe you read about?” It would be a blessing if he already knew. If he could understand that privacy is an issue for me and this is something I would greatly prefer to keep private.
He stares at me for a moment, although his eyes flash with a knowing look.
I don’t want to say it out loud and I wait for him to answer, but he doesn’t.
“It’s just,” I say as my voice gets tight and I choke on the words, but only for a moment, “my husband passed away and it’s hard for me to deal with moving on with someone else.” I stumble over my next words for a moment when I say, “Because people …”
“Will read about it in the papers?”
“Yes. It’s hard going out and not being with him. That’s difficult for me.” It feels like a massive weight off my chest to just say it out loud. “I don’t know how to handle everyone’s expectations. It could go over very poorly.”
Mason’s next words come out hard, a command if I’ve ever heard one. “Fuck their expectations.”
I’m shocked by how blunt Mason is. I don’t think he understands. “I just don’t want to be judged?—”
“Fuck. Them.”
I stare back in disbelief, thinking he can’t be serious but he is.
His eyes hold an intensity and his hard, muscular arms are corded.
He clenches his stubbled jaw and then seems to relax slightly, but I’m still caught off guard.
Mostly because I want to obey him. I want to eat up every word he’s saying as if it’s law and bow down to him.
“You’re entitled to feel and do whatever you want. It’s no one else’s business. Their perception of you is their responsibility. Not yours.”
I take a deep breath, hating that he doesn’t understand.
“Maybe I’m just shallow.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but I did.
My breath leaves me and I pick up the empty glass again.
Before I have the chance to let out the exasperated sigh begging to choke me, the waiter comes to my rescue, the bottle of chardonnay in his hand.
“Thank you,” I say gratefully.
The second the waiter leaves, taking both our plates with him, Mason says, “We can play this however you’d like.”
“I don’t really want to go out yet. I’m just not ready.” I realize he has a point but he doesn’t understand that I welcomed these people into my life, and shutting them out now would be like a slap in the face.
“Is it because you loved him?” Mason asks, his forehead wrinkled and his brow furrowed. He can’t even look me in the eye. “You loved him and they think you can’t move on? Or that you shouldn’t?”
“I loved my husband, but that’s not why.” I take a sip of wine and staring at the glass I answer, “I just don’t know how to not feel guilty about being okay and I’m worried because I don’t know how it will be taken.”
The words came out easier than I thought they would.
“So you’re all right?” Mason asks me and he’s so genuine with his concern that I could practically cry.
“Some days are better than others, but it’s hard because I wasn’t much without him.”
Mason takes my hand in his at my comment, squeezing it and opening his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I’m surprised at how deep our conversation has gotten.
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head and pulling my hand away. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“Stop apologizing,” he tells me in a tone that makes all my worries vanish. “I asked you, remember?”
I nod my head and utter a small response, although I don’t remember how the conversation started.
“Tell me something that will make me smile,” he says.
A grin plays on my lips at the thought of him smiling and I say, “You’re a very handsome man. Very charming. Obviously successful.” I lean in slightly and let the tips of my fingers play along his large knuckles as I add, “and I really, really liked last night.”
I accomplish my task and sit back in my seat, staring at his handsome face.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He keeps his eyes on me as we both sip our drinks. “I would have liked to have had you this morning as well.”
I almost choke on my wine but luckily I save myself, swallowing it down and taking a moment to get myself together.
“About that …”
“I imagine you’ll make up for it tomorrow morning.” He says it like it’s a statement but I hear the question.
Another night with Mason Thatcher.
“I did say I was just along for the ride,” I say, reminding him and myself.