“Want me to come with you?” he asks.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just be a couple of hours.”
“Dad know you’re going out?”
“He’s in meetings all day. I’ll text him.”
Once I hear Ledger on a phone call, I grab my purse and slip out through the service entrance that the cleaning staff uses. The guards are stationed at the main elevator and front door—nobody’s watching the back stairs.
I take the stairs down three flights to the parking garage, then call a car service from there. By the time anyone realizes I’m gone, I’ll already be at the restaurant and back.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
The restaurant is busy when I arrive—families, business lunches, tourists. Safe.
Mason is already there in a booth near the back. He looks terrible. Thinner, clothes hanging loose, face gaunt. He’s lost at least fifteen pounds.
He stands when he sees me. “Savannah. Thank you for coming.”
“Thirty minutes. That’s it.”
“That’s all I need.” He gestures to the booth. “Please.”
I slide in across from him, keeping my purse close. A waitress appears.
“Water for me,” I say.
“Same,” Mason adds.
We sit in awkward silence. His wrist is in a cast.
“How’s your wrist?” I ask.
“Healing. Your stepson has a mean right hook.” He looks at the cast. “But I deserved it.”
“You did.”
“Savannah, I need to tell you something. About that day. About how everything really happened with Lizzy.” He leans forward. “Because you deserve to know the truth.”
“I already know the truth. You cheated on me for three months, and it wasn’t the first time you did it.”
“But you don’t know how it started. How it really went down.” He takes a drink of water, his hands shaking slightly. “It wasn’t what you thought. I didn’t just decide one day to betray you.”
“Then what was it?”
“It was right after your mom’s funeral. You remember that week? How bad it was?”
I don’t want to remember. Those days are a blur of grief and pain I’ve tried to forget.
“You were in bed for days,” he continues. “Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t talk. I tried everything to help you, but you shut me out completely. And I get it—you were grieving. But I felt useless. Like I couldn’t do anything right.”
“So you slept with my best friend.”
“No. Not right away.” He shakes his head. “Lizzy came over that first week. Brought food, tried to get you to eat. You wouldn’t even look at her. So she sat with me in the living room while you stayed locked in the bedroom.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“You need to hear it. Because what happened wasn’t just my fault.” He meets my eyes. “Lizzy told me she understood what I was going through. That watching someone you love fall apart isits own kind of hell. And for the first time in weeks, someone was actually seeing me. Not just focusing on you and your pain.”
