I findMason waiting for me outside the room, and my heart breaks when I see him.
He takes in my tear-stained face and immediately wraps his arms around me. Of course, that only makes the tears start anew.
“It’s over now,” he murmurs, still holding me close.
I look up and study his face, trying to commit the small things to memory, the things that don’t show in pictures—like the way he smells like regular, everyday drugstore shampoo.
He has a few stray strands of silver at his temples that I’ve never noticed before. He’s going to be one of those men whose hair changes at a young age, but it won’t detract from his looks. If anything, it might enhance them.
Mason narrows his eyes as I run my finger along the strands. For a minute, I try to imagine that he’s a regular guy—someone I might have a future with. Someone who would get a regular job and be home for dinner every night by six. We’d take yearly vacations and have two-point-five children.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” he says quietly.
“I’m trying to figure out how to say goodbye.”
He scrunches his forehead and narrows his eyes. “Harper, don’t.”
“You know this won’t work. I’ve turned your career upside down with bad publicity. Your manager hates me.”
His scowl turns into a wry smile. “Any publicity is good publicity, and I’ll fire Clark if you’d like.”
I smile despite myself and press a kiss to his lips. “Take care of yourself, Mason.”
When I try to step out of his arms, he holds me tight. “I object.”
“You object?” I ask, incredulous.
“We’ve been together less than twenty-four hours. You can’t break up with me yet.”
I shake my head, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry. “Why can’t you make this easy?”
“Because easy means you leave and I never see you again.”
“Then let me go because you care for me. I can’t keep up this pace—I can’t live in a glass bowl, with everyone in the world watching my every move. I’m tired, Mason. I don’t want this life.”
His expression flickers with pain, and I know he wants to argue. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. “All right.”
We stay like this for several minutes, and then I pull out of his arms. Before he lets me go, he kisses me.
It’s a quick kiss, not sweet like our first or searing like our second. It’s final, a goodbye. A signature at the end of a contract.
We’re done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Don’t get me wrong;I’m not complaining, but don’t you think you’ve made enough cupcakes?” Riley asks from the kitchen stool.
She’s been sitting there, watching me for almost an hour. A few minutes ago, I pulled my sixth batch of cupcakes out of the oven.
I have cooling racks everywhere—and when I ran out of cooling racks, I started putting the tiny chocolate cakes on dinner plates. In fact, I have so many cupcakes, there is not an ounce of counter space left. I look around with the last tin still in my oven mitt-covered hand and search for a spot to place it.
“How about the microwave?” Riley offers helpfully, even though I’ve been ignoring her.
Not a bad idea.
I open the door and slide the tray in.
Riley comes around the counter to stand in front of me. “No more cupcakes.”
