“Are we still having the previously planned Meatball Monday night at the cabin?” Braxton asks, though mid-way through his sentence, he yawns, distorting the last few words.
“It seems as if someone had a long night.” Finley smirks and I raise my eyebrows at Braxton. He returned home from his honeymoon in North Carolina with his long-term best friend and now wife, Hadley, yesterday.
He doesn’t even try to hide his wide, toothy grin. He tilts his chin up as he says, “Of course I had a long night. I’ve had long nights for two weeks. Jealous much?”
“Long nights talking about her work.” Finley laughs and I join in, but when Braxton utters something to the effect of “let me tell you about how non-verbal we were,” I interrupt.
“Fair enough.” I throw my hands up to steer conversation away from his night-time activities with his wife. “How is Michael coming along with drafting the plans for the vacation home?”
Braxton pushes the sleeves of his flannel shirt up and rests his forearms on the table, folding his hands. “We’ve hit a snag in the design,” he begins, and while I listen to the issues they’re having and Finley stares at his phone with a wrinkle forming in the middle of his brows—I’ll ask him about that later—I vaguely hear the bells ring above the doorway.
Stopping mid-sentence, Braxton waves to someone behind me and says a simple greeting.
“Hey, Braxton. How are you?”
That voice. It sounds familiar, like thick honey and daisies bending under a spring breeze.
“Doing good, Karoline. And yourself? Hadley’s not working you too hard now that she’s back, is she?”
Oh, no.
The two continue to talk, but I slide a few levels lower into my seat, pressing my sunglasses to my face and tucking my head down. Finley’s smirking as if he’s watching me simply trying to hide from a fan, but that’s not it at all. If the way Karoline peeled out of the parking lot slinging rocks at my face a couple nights ago at the sight of me is any indication as to her opinions towards me, I’m in boiling hot water right now. I’ve got to continue to keep a low profile until I figure out a rational way to approach—
“Have you met Mason and Finley?” Braxton asks, and I curse under my breath. That’s what I get for not sharing vital, personal information with the two guys I can actually chat with in this town as of right now—information that would have stopped Braxton from introducing me at this moment.
He leans over and says, “Don’t worry. She’s trustworthy. You’ll see her around as she works alongside my wife.” As if that’s my biggest concern right now.
No, my concern is that Karoline Renee Wright, my childhood next-door neighbor and best friend is standing behind me. I’m concerned not only because of her reaction to me the other night but also because I broke her heart three years ago when she confessed to me, and I did and said unspeakable things in return.
I broke Karoline that night, and though I’m delusional enough to believe she may hear me out and give me a chance, the truth of the matter is that it’s a lost cause. Not after what I did and the way I left. But I never touched alcohol again and started to take my faith seriously, adopting it as my own instead of what the church, Dad, and my step-mom told me to believe. So I guess something good came from all the nasty, right?
I’m sure Karoline has moved on, anyhow. Though I religiously lurk her socials and there’s been no sign of a man, she could just be the type to keep her love life on the down-low.
“I believe I met you at the wedding, Finley,” Karoline says. I can feel when her eyes land on the back of my head. “Mason? Hm. You’ve got an unfortunate name. It’s one name I can’t stand.”
She has to know it’s me by the way a seething hiss underlies her words. She wouldn’t address a stranger that way. She wouldn’t address anyone in that tone…
Except me. Her personal villain.
Braxton and Finley laugh, and I shrink further into my seat. The water I’m in is getting hotter and hotter. If I was an egg, I’d be splitting cracks right about now.
“Careful, Karoline.” Braxton chuckles then waves a hand towards me. “You’re talking to a famous country singer.” I keep my eyes glued to the tabletop as footsteps move from behind me and make their way to the only empty seat at the table—the chair directly in front of me.
“Mason Kane?” she inflects. Her voice, though a more mature sound than at eighteen, is still sweet as honey, but I can hear the poison tones underneath that are reserved just for me.
“Don’t act like a stuck-up superstar, Mason. Use your manners and say hello to the lady.” Finley shoves my arm. Slowly, I sit up straight in my chair and brace myself for whatever danger awaits me.
I reach for my sunglasses, trying to muster as much of an “I’m an idiot, please forgive me” style apologetic expression as I can.
Blue eyes that mirror violent tidepools burn holes into me. Karoline crosses her arms in front of her and leans towards me across the table, her arms resting on the surface. For all the angry-girl energy she’s radiating, and rightfully so, she’s stunning. Her light brown hair falls in wavy locks down hershoulders, landing at the edge of the table, and I’m delightfully surprised to see she has bangs. I didn’t notice that while rocks ingrained themselves in my skin the other night.
Mercy. Bangs suit her heart-shaped face nicely.
“Oh my goodness! Mason Kane. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan. I really love ‘Midnight Mistakes.’ It’s my favorite song of yours,” she finally says, a bit too loudly for my liking, sarcasm leaking through a gritted smile.
The table falls silent as Karoline and I engage in the scariest battle of don’t blink I’ve ever had the displeasure of being a part of. It’s not a game as much as I’m simply too scared to blink in case she launches herself at me. I’m positive her lack of blinking is out of pure spite and serves to make her look like a frightening goddess about to smite me down.
If she really heard ‘Midnight Mistakes,’ then shouldn’t she understand just how sorry I am for what I did to her? The lyrics were a very painful, very public apology that only she would get.
