11. Callie #2
“Actually, I’m working for Mason now.” I almost miss the way his eyes flare as they shift to Mason.
“Callie’s your new assistant?”
Mason leans back in his chair as he assesses us. “How do you know Callie?”
“She worked with Lee before the end of her pregnancy.” Tristan’s attention turns back to me, realisation alight in his eyes. “How did that all go?”
“Great. One healthy baby girl, so I’m very lucky.” The uptick in my tone slowly falls as I take in the silent conversation Tristan and Mason are having. Do they think I can’t see them? The dancing eyebrows, big eyes, and occasional head tilts in my direction–real subtle.
I look at Beth in question, but she rolls her eyes and simply mouths to me, “Men.”
Jason returns with our drinks, sliding Beth’s martini across to her, then places a cocktail each in front of Mason and me. Baby pink liquid fills the glass, along with thin slices of lemon and deep pink rose buds floating on top.
“You’re drinking a cocktail?” Tristan arches an eyebrow at Mason.
I watch them both over the rim of my glass as I take a sip. The drink fizzes on my tongue as the fresh, zesty lemon collides with a creamy rose.
Mason brings the drink to his lips with a challenging glare. “Real men drink cocktails,” he says before taking a sip.
“The same one as their assistant?” Tristan retorts, making Mason sputter into his glass.
Liquid drips down his chin, and he wipes it away slowly while Tristan continues to smile in amusement. “All you’re missing is an umbrella.”
“I’m low-key mad I don’t have one,” Mason mutters.
“That’s because this place is classy.” Beth takes the olive from her drink and drags it off the pick.
“Sorry, Princess.” Tristan watches as she slowly slides the pick through her teeth. “Didn’t mean to offend you with my tackiness.”
Beth’s jaw clenches. “I am not a princess.”
“You’re drinking your martini with a straw,” Tristan fires back.
Her face is inches from his. “I don’t want to mess up my lipstick.”
Tristan leans in further, so close their noses almost touch. “Princess.”
“Are they exes or something?” I ask Mason.
He’s staring at them, confused, as he tears up a napkin, twisting the end between his fingers. “No.” Mason shakes his head. “I’m both confused and disturbed by whatever this is.”
We watch as Beth’s face goes so red it rivals a strawberry, before she sticks a finger in her mouth and swirls it in Tristan’s drink, stirring it around like a straw. She sucks her finger with an exulting smirk.
Tristan remains emotionless, not even a twitch in his eyes, as he locks Beth in his gaze and takes a sip from his drink.
“Dude,” Mason says. “This is, like, beyond eye-fucking. I don’t know what it is, but I’d prefer not to witness it when it’s with my sister.”
“Ugh.” Beth grimaces. “There’s not enough protection in the world from his ego. As if I’d trust his dick.”
Tristan winks at her. “But you’ve thought about it?”
Beth’s glare could turn men to stone. “Come on, Callie. I want to introduce you to my friend, Tenley, before I choke on the testosterone here.”
Mason slides out of the booth to let me out, offering me his hand when I shuffle to the edge. The napkin he was twisting is now fashioned in a single rose stem. “Thank you.”
I smooth out my dress as I wait for Beth, who’s still sitting in place, blocked from the exit by Tristan. “Do you mind?” She seethes.
He leans back, pressing into the seat rest. “Not at all.”
Beth looks at the open gap between the table and Tristan—which isn’t much at all—and with a slow blink, swings her leg over his lap and slides across him.
“Mason, I’d prefer if you didn’t bring your dog to nice places, since he clearly can’t be trained.” Beth tosses back her martini, slamming the empty glass on the table.
“I only respond well to female owners.” Tristan grins.
I pull Beth away before she explodes, leading her to the bar for another drink. “Holy shit!”
“I know, what an arsehole!” Beth flicks her dead-straight hair over her shoulder.
“Every other time I’ve met Tristan, he’s been so nice. Something about you seems to bring out a different side to him.”
“The completely arrogant side? He also implied I’m a spoiled brat.”
“Who said you’re a spoiled brat?” A woman with strawberry blonde hair joins us just before we reach the bar.
“Ugh, Mason’s friend Tristan.” Beth scoffs. “Callie, this is Tenley. Tenley, Callie.”
“Hey, Callie.” Tenley smiles. “And what are you talking about? Tristan’s a sweetheart. And those tattoos.” Tenley fans her face as she blows out a breath.
“Oh, so that’s all for me? I’ll try not to take that personally. Anyway, fuck him, girls rule.”
I hold my glass up to Tenley, who’s holding a champagne in her hand. “Girls rule.”
She clinks it to mine, and I spend the rest of the night glued to their sides. Maevyn and Claire find us not long after, bringing Beth and Mason’s sisters-in-law, Isabelle and Lex, with them.
I’m glad I always keep a few bags of expressed milk in my freezer for emergencies, because I definitely didn’t plan to drink as much as I did tonight.
Navie stayed asleep the whole way home, where Westley transferred her from her car seat to her cot, later helping me stumble to my bed.
He made sure the baby monitor was turned up, and a glass of water was on my bedside before locking the door behind him, but once I slipped under the sheets, I couldn’t fall asleep.
I was thankful for the distraction of strong and determined women, considering the night started with finding out about my dad’s betrayal.
Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I pull up the text thread with my mum.
ME:
Muuuuuum. Fucck him. U were always to good for hin. I love youuuuou.
I squint from the brightness of my phone and drag my finger against the screen to adjust it. At the same time, a notification from Two Hearts Homes pops up. I sigh when my phone flicks over to their social media page instead. I hate when it does that.
My finger hovers over the navigation bar, meaning to click out so I can try to sleep off whatever chance of a hangover I’m destined for before Navie wakes up, when I see the new collection of photos just posted.
Behind-the-scenes photos of Beth on site at Smoke and Barrel, working over a table covered in sample materials, another laughing with Isabelle.
Beth’s personal page is tagged, so I click it, knowing full well it’s my gateway to seeing something of Mason. In my inebriated state, I’ve decided that though he’s my boss, I’m still allowed to appreciate his hotness.
Sure enough, the first photo in Beth’s feed is the two of them. They’re both wearing the clothes they had on tonight, so they must have got ready together. That’s so cute—he gets ready with his sister.
Some of the photos are in black and white, which only serve to amplify Beth’s striking good looks.
She was in a black pantsuit tonight, a single button of her blazer fastened in the middle with a black lace bralette underneath, the only pop of colour coming from her smoky taupe lipstick and the red bottoms of her heels.
There’s a photo of Mason midway through buttoning up his shirt, and fuck. Me.
My limbs turn to jelly as the next photo in the carousel is of him looking directly into the mirror as Beth snaps a photo from behind him. His shirt is still open, revealing his pecs and the beginning of what looks like abs, and a long chain resting against his muscled chest.
His personal page is tagged, so I click over to that.
I shouldn’t. Drunk-me says I absolutely should.
There’s a pinned photo at the top that not only has me gasping for air, but squeezing my thighs together.
A close-up of his face, the lock of hair that always falls in front of his blue eye, and his chain held between his teeth.
I swipe against the photo, wanting to see more, and my phone slips from my hand, dropping straight onto my face.
“Ow.” I groan as I pick it up again and then stare, horrified, at the illuminated red heart at the bottom of the post.
A string of garbled and pained syllables is all I can offer as I quickly unlike the post. Shit.
Okay, it’ll be fine. I’m sure he gets so many notifications in a day that he won’t even notice.
Probably doesn’t even read the handles of who’s interacting.
I really wish I were more creative with mine than @itscallie.
My panic starts to fade away as I notice the 131 thousand likes already on the post. Yep, he totally won’t notice one like from little ol’ me.
I guess it won’t hurt to snoop a little longer.
A lovely delusion I get to live in for all of ten seconds until another notification drops down on my screen.
@i.heart.mason started following you.