“I’m not saying I’m innocent.” He takes another step closer. “I’m saying I was weak. I was stupid, and I hurt you in the worst possible way. But I’ve changed. I’ve been going to therapy. I quit drinking. I?—”
“How did you know I was here?”
The question stops him. “What?”
“How did you know I’d be here, on this street, at this exact time?”
He hesitates, just for a second. But it’s enough.
“You’ve been following me,” I say. “Tracking my credit cards or something.”
“I just wanted to see you. To know you were okay.”
“That’s called stalking, Mason.”
“I wasn’t stalking you. I was?—”
“We’re done here.” Alexi pulls out his phone. “I’m calling security. You need to leave. Now.”
“I’m not leaving until Savannah hears me out.” Mason’s desperation is starting to show. His voice gets louder. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. What we had was real, and I know you felt it too.”
“What we had is over.”
“Because of him?” Mason’s eyes flick to Alexi, then back to me. “Because you married some rich guy? You think money is going to make you happy? Look at you, you got pregnant pretty fast. So it must be all about the money.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation. We’re done talking here.”
“Savannah, please.” Mason moves closer, and Alexi immediately steps between us. “I’m begging you. Give me another chance. Let me prove I’ve changed.”
“Security is on the way,” Alexi says calmly. “You have about three minutes to leave before this gets ugly.”
“I don’t care about your security.” Mason tries to move around Alexi, but he blocks him. “Savannah, just listen to me for fiveminutes. That’s all I’m asking. Five minutes, and if you still want me to leave, I’ll go. I promise.”
“She doesn’t owe you five seconds,” Alexi says. “Back up.”
“I’m not talking to you.” Mason’s getting agitated now. “Savannah, tell him to move. Let me talk to you.”
“No.”
“Please. I just need—” He reaches past Alexi, trying to grab my arm.
It happens fast.
Alexi catches Mason’s wrist mid-reach and twists. Hard. There’s a sickening pop, and Mason screams.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Alexi says quietly.
Mason tries to pull away, but Alexi’s grip doesn’t loosen. “Let go. You’re breaking my arm.”
“I’ll break a lot more than that if you don’t back up right now.”
“Alexi,” I say. “Let him go.”
He releases Mason’s wrist, and Mason stumbles backward, cradling his arm. His face is twisted in pain and rage.
“You broke my wrist,” he gasps. “You fucking broke my wrist.”
“Should’ve kept your hands to yourself.”
