Chapter Two
VICTORIA
The clinking of crystal washes over the group of tables on the beachside patio. With the hugest smile on his face, my brother stands and nods to everyone surrounding him.
“I’m afraid it’s that time of the night where you have to listen to me speak. And you all know how much I love the sound of my own voice.” I shake my head at my brother’s joke, laughing with the rest of the group.
“I firstly want to thank all of you for joining us today.” He looks over at a beaming Bryn.
“Every day since I met Bryn has been the best day of my life—I’m a truly lucky man—but today has been something magical.
A day that I will not be able to put into words for a very long time and a memory I will cherish until my last breath.
All of you, dear friends, have added to the magic of the day, so I thank you for travelling here and supporting us. Cheers to you.”
I raise my Shirley Temple drink in his direction, toasting to his gratitude. His next words have me freezing in place.
“I also want to acknowledge those who couldn’t be here today.
As some of you know, recently, my grandmother passed away.
She raised me and Tori. She was our rock, a force to be reckoned with, and a woman who loved with her whole heart.
Grandma Angie left us too soon and too suddenly, but I know she’s looking down at us today. Blessing us.”
Slowly, I place my glass on the table. My hands begin to tremble, tightness building in my chest. I stare at my brother, trying to breathe through my growing panic, until my sight goes watery.
Tears start to pool in my eyes, and I know I only have a matter of minutes before I really lose control and make a fool of myself.
“And lastly, but most importantly,” I hear Henrik continue, “to my bride, my one true love, my queen. I love you. Thank you for trusting me with your heart and your future. I promise not to fuck it up.” There’s a pause, and then applause and laughter break out.
He must have kissed her. I can’t see through my tears to really know. “Now, let’s party!”
More applause and cheers break out. I take that as my chance. Standing abruptly from the table, I rush out the curtained doors, not knowing or caring where I’m going. I just need to get away. Far away.
There’s a burning in my chest. A tightness that is so uncomfortable but so familiar. I’m on the verge of a panic attack.
Stumbling around, I spot through my watery vision a garden path off to the side. As quick as I can make my body move, I head in that direction, hoping to hide in the tall hedges.
I don’t know how long I turn and twist down the path, but eventually, I come to a small water feature. The splashing of the water is soothing, and I fall onto a nearby bench. My breath is coming too rapidly, my hands shaking too hard. I can’t get control of myself.
My mind starts to imagine worst-case scenarios, the “what-ifs” of me passing out here alone. Henrik won’t notice I’m missing—he’s starting his own family now.
And the one person I could always rely on is…gone.
I’m all alone.
The world around me begins to spin at that thought.
That’s when a calm voice reaches me.
“Hey. You’re okay. You’re not alone.”
I can’t see the figure clearly, and the voice doesn’t sound familiar to my panic-ridden mind, but still, I reach out. His cool hand lightly clasps mine, then squeezes. That squeeze helps ground me.
“You’re okay,” he repeats. His voice is strong and steady.
I can feel and hear him doing something beside me, but he never lets go of my hand.
“I’m with you,” he tells me with another squeeze, “but I’m going to wet something and put it on your cheeks.
Okay? Am I okay to do that? It will help calm your breathing. ”
I nod, not caring what he wants to do as long as it helps me catch my breath. My lungs are on fire as I heave in and out.
“Oh!” I wheeze out when dripping fabric is pulled up to my face. The water is freezing and shocks my system.
“Okay, now take as big of a breath as you can and hold it. Focus on the cold. The sensation of the water on your cheeks.”
I have no idea why I’m not questioning or fighting this unknown person. There’s just something trustworthy about his voice, the calming aura of his presence beside me.
My lungs shudder as I take as big a breath as I can and then hold it. The burn is almost too much. What if I hold my breath and then am never able to catch it again? What if—
“Focus on the cold,” he repeats. The man must have felt my panic rising.
Focus on the cold. Focus on the cold.
It takes a second, but I fight through and do as he says.
The cold on my cheeks…it feels…good.
The skin is starting to prickle a little, the cold temperature seeping in. I can feel drips hitting my collarbone, sending surprising shocks to my system. Goosebumps break out across my arms.
With my mind focused elsewhere, my heart rate begins to even out. When I take my first real breath again, I fill my lungs. Noticing only a minimal uncomfortable burn, I take another and another. As I blink, the world comes back into focus.
And so does the man kneeling to the side of me.
Holy mother of God.
I must be hallucinating. Because there’s no way this man is real.
Had I stumbled upon an enchanted water fountain, and this was the Nymph King sent to save me? Was this good deed part of his mission to save his kingdom?
Oh Jesus. I bring a hand up to my temple. I have been reading way too much fantasy if this is the first logical explanation that came to my addled brain.
“Feeling better?” he asks, doing that damn hand squeeze again that brings me back into the moment with him.
I’m sure I must look like a drowned rat at this point, soaked, shaking, and apparently mute as I nod at him. Where the hell is my voice?
“Good.” He smiles.
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, holding hands like we’ve known each other for decades, our breaths in sync as I slowly come down from my episode.
“Thank you,” I finally croak out. “I—” I open my mouth to tell him I have no idea where that came from or what happened but stop. It would be a lie. And for some unknown reason, the last thing I want to do to this man is lie.
“You’re welcome,” he replies when my sentence falls flat. “Just glad I saw you when I did. I’d hate to think of you here alone.”
I swallow and nod. I’ve gone through a couple of panic attacks on my own, and it had been scary. They lasted a lot longer too.
“How did you know that water trick? I’ve never heard or read about that before.”
“It’s a focusing tactic. My younger sister used to have panic attacks when she was younger, and this was a technique her therapist taught her. The cold stimulates the nervous system and makes your brain focus on the outward sensation instead of internal dread.”
I turn my head toward him, my lips tipping up ever so slightly in a grin.
“Are you a therapist? Sounds like you know a lot about this stuff.”
His blue eyes widen a bit at my comment. I’m not sure why. The look is gone before I can even question it, and my curiosity turns to something new when he chuckles. The sound is deep and rich. It makes my chest burn, but for all the right reasons.
He smiles. “No, I’m not a therapist. I just pay attention.”
“Oh” is all I’m able to say, still captivated by his lips.
“I’m Mason.”
“Oh. Umm. Tori.” I fumble my words. “Victoria, actually, but most everyone calls me Tori.”
“Very nice to meet you, Victoria.” Mason lifts our already clasped hands and shakes them up and down.
That gets a real laugh out of me. This is so ridiculous. Him using my full name has tingles dancing down my spine.
We sit there, again in silence, but this time gazing at each other with stupid grins on our faces. The spell is only broken by the high-pitched yell of a child in the distance.
Shit. I needed to get back to the wedding.
I try not to focus on the pit of disappointment that forms in my stomach at the thought of leaving Mason.
“I need to get back. I literally ran from my brother’s wedding. Didn’t want to ruin his big day with my drama.”
“Victoria.” Mason’s tone tells me he doesn’t appreciate my self-deprecating humor. “A panic attack is not drama. It’s serious.”
He’s right. I know he’s right, but I can’t get into all the details and all the reasons why others may not see it like that. I know he understands…but he would be in the minority.
Not wanting to leave him with a bad impression of me—even if we’re not ever going to see each other again—I nod and begin to stand. As soon as I’m on my feet, a wave of dizziness washes over me, and I lose my balance.
I teeter to the side, knowing I’m headed for a face plant in the fountain, when strong arms wrap around my waist. My arms instinctually circle Mason’s neck as he holds me up, pressing his chest hard into mine.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
His chest rises and falls against mine, steady and strong, and it takes everything in me not to just melt into him.
My fingers are curled around the back of his neck, and I can feel the heat of his skin under my palms. He smells like cedarwood and the ocean breeze, and I swear I forget how to breathe again—but not from panic this time.
From him.
“I’ve got you,” he says quietly, his voice rumbling against my temple.
“I noticed,” I whisper back.
My heart is pounding, but it’s not fear anymore. It’s something much more dangerous.
If I were anyone else, if it was any other time in my life, I would be bold and ask this man to spend the night with me. It would be an absolute pleasure to lose myself to him for a brief moment in time. A sizzling night that I would hold dear on cold, lonely nights.
But I can’t. When I made the decision to leave the rock band I was in with my brother, Stolen Sundays, and make the move to country, I knew there would be sacrifices.
One of them being that I had to uphold a cleaner, more wholesome image.
To a point though. A girl has to break free every now and then.
It’s ridiculous, I know, and I still had fun, but I’d never been tempted to have a one-night stand with a stranger.
Until now.
It’s not my style…but for one night, I could pretend.
His hands stay firm around my waist, not rushing to let go. There’s a possibility that maybe he feels it too—that invisible pull. Like we’ve both just stepped out of time, and the only thing that exists is the air between us.
I tilt my head back to look up at him. Bad idea. His eyes—those impossibly clear blue eyes—are already watching me, searching my face for something I’m not sure I even know how to interpret.
His gaze dips to my lips.
Oh boy.
My breath hitches. He notices.
Then, slowly, reluctantly, he steps back, lowering his arms. I drop mine too, immediately feeling colder.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, brushing my damp hands down my dress like that’ll smooth out the last five minutes. “Still a little wobbly.”
“You’re fine,” he says, though his voice is a bit rougher now. “I just didn’t want to let you fall.”
“You didn’t,” I say, meeting his eyes again. “You caught me.”
His lips tip into a crooked smile. “I tend to do that.”
I want to say something else. I want to ask if he’s staying at the resort, if he’s part of another wedding or just passing through. If maybe—just maybe—he’d want to see me again. But I don’t.
Because I know better.
This moment—this unexpected, beautiful moment—was exactly what I needed. But that doesn’t mean it’s meant to last.
My world is too full right now. Too messy. I’m still finding my feet after losing Grandma, and I need more time to work through my feelings.
“I should go,” I say again, softer this time.
He nods like he gets it. He knows we’ve reached the end of whatever this was.
“Take care of yourself, Victoria.”
The way he says my name—low, deliberate—it makes me shiver.
“You too, Mason.”
We both hesitate, like maybe the other one will cave and say something more. But neither of us does.
I turn and start walking back toward the path, my steps still a little shaky, more from emotion than dizziness now. I don’t look back.
But I feel him watching me.
And as I reach the edge of the hedges, the sound of the party floats back to me—laughter, music, the soft clink of plates and glasses. The world moves on.
I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders.
Mason was a moment. A beautiful, grounding moment. I can appreciate it for what it was, knowing I’ll probably never see him again.
But somehow…I think that’s okay.
Maybe not everything is meant to last forever. Some things are just meant to remind you that you’re not as alone as you think.