“Hm,” he says, bending to pick up his Ray Bans. As he rights himself, my eyes catch his once again. He’s still burning memory holes into my brain, memories of water balloon fights, late night jam sessions under the stars, and him cheering me on from the stands, wearing my number, as I played in the Texas state softball game my senior year of high school.
“What?” I ask, forcing my eyes to look anywhere but at him.
“So that’s it? You’re going to hand me a packet to read over and then leave?” His voice lowers. “Can’t we catch up or something?” It sounds like a plea.
The blood that was beginning to boil earlier reaches maximum heat in an instance. “Really, Mason? Catch up? I’m pretty sure the way you drunk-kissed me, said the awful things you said, then left me in that diner, never contacting me again, signified that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.”
“Vroom, that was never—”
“Don’t call me that!” I shout. Several heads turn our direction, and I bring my voice back down and begin to lean over the table, the edge cutting into my ribs. “Just so we are clear, you don’t deserve to get to know how I am or what I’ve been up to or who my friends are or what degree I’m pursuing. It’s bad enough you know where I work and the town I live in. I am working on this project for my job, not to reconnect with you. Got it?”
My chest heaves as I fight to regain control of my emotions, my breaths ragged and deep.
Mason stands then leans on the table, his shades between his fingers while his hands splay on the surface, his face a littletoo close to mine. Even the daisies in the clear vase serving as the centerpiece on the table shudder at his overwhelming and intense presence. “Look, I’m sorry. I should have led with that. You heard the song. I meant every word. I’m sorry for what I did three years ago, for what I said. I didn’t mean any of it. You have to know that, Kar. I’m sorry for dropping in on you unexpectedly like this. Please, forgive me, Karoline. Please…”
His words are three years too late.
I slump back in my chair and cross my arms and legs, turning to the side so that I don’t have to look at him. “I don’t think I’m capable of forgiving you, Mason. It’s not a cut; it’s a bullet hole. The wound is too big and too deep. The best I can do, all I’ve been trying to do, is forget.”
Mason swallows, shifting his eyes to the wall behind me and then back to me. “Would it help if I told you that I was stupid for not appropriately returning your feelings? I mean, think about it, I kissed you. Yes, I was drunk. Yes, I blamed it on that. Then you took a shot at my fragile ego and I said a lot of things I regret. But really? I kissed you because I wanted to. I wanted you. After I left, I realized I’d made the most idiotic mistake of my life. Would it help if I told you something that I know is three years too late but is still true as I sit here in front of you? Karoline, I love—”
“No!” I bark, snapping around in my seat and jolting to my feet. “Stop, Mason. You’re making fun of me now, aren’t you? You didn’t humiliate me enough already? Now you have to mock my feelings? Well, news alert, Mr. Conceited, I don’t feel that way anymore, okay? I’ve moved on.”
“Yeah, sure you have,” he mumbles under his breath while crossing his arms, mirroring my posture. “I don’t believe that. I can still read you like an open book. The way your face is flushed, the way you keep avoiding eye contact, and when we make it, you avert your gaze. All the little things you used to do…”
Oh, this infuriating man! “Yeah, Ihavemoved on as a matter of fact. You just can’t accept that, can you? You just need me falling all over you like a fan girl, but guess what, you—” I stop my sentence, careful not to finish with the curses brimming on my tongue.Thank you, Lord, for holding my tongue.
He’s not worth it.
I pick up the papers from the table, stare him directly in the eyes, shove the stack into his chest, and paste a smile to my face. “Here are the marketing plans. Read over them and we will meet again on Monday to finalize. Have a nice weekend, and thank you for working with Tease Jewelry and Southern Grace Boutique and Gift Market.”
With that, I grab my tablet, my empty mug, and what’s left of my dignity and march out of the coffee shop to start heading towards the boutique. I’m pleased with my exit, until I realize I never placed the empty mug onto the dirty dishes tray on the far end of the counter.
Well, rats.
I turn around at the edge of the shop and creep back inside. With my chin held high, I gently drop the mug into the bin, bid a polite farewell to Kelsey, and exit the building once more. I sneak a peek back inside as I pass the windows, and I catch sight of Mason, with his sunglasses back in place, standing by the window with a ridiculous full grin of pretty, perfect teeth, shaking his head and watching me walk by.
That shred of dignity I had left?
It’s left in the dirty dishes bin with the mug.
As I walk back to the boutique, which is a couple of blocks down Main Street, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Do Not Call. Do Not Text. Forget He Exists:I look forward to working with you this Valentine’s Day, Vroom. Love, Peppermint.
I wasn’t aware my blood could possibly boil anymore, but alas, Mason Kane found a way to turn up the heat and make it happen. How unfortunate that he had kept my number… but I guess I had kept his, too.
Chapter Seven
Mason - Present
Wars are never wonin a day.
And getting Karoline Wright to accept my apology (and confession) could take centuries. But I don’t have centuries, so I decided to consult with the Prince of Hearts himself as I continue to stare at the opened message I sent Karoline after our meeting earlier today.
“So yeah, that’s how the meeting went,” I finish telling my roommate about my encounter with Karoline. After she surprised me when I was with him and Braxton at Books and Beans earlier in the week, I was forced to tell the guys everything as we gathered for our Meatball Monday night. All the nitty gritty details better left in the past, the ones that painted me to be the heartless monster that Karoline believes that I am, were spilled over three different types of meatballs and beer.
Well, Braxton and Finley had beer. I had orange juice as I vowed to never drink again after what happened with Karoline. They didn’t know about that vow, though, or I know they would have refrained. I have to admit, it’s nice to be around men who know how to respectfully consume alcohol instead of how I did in high school and college.
