“I’m sorry,” he said and looked down to where he held my hand. “I act before I think and usually regret it afterward. I thought you were engaged while we were together and playing me. But I have never regretted anything as much as my actions after I saw you up on that stage, kissing that asshole.”
“You should have let me explain.” I tried to step out of his reach to clear my head but he didn’t let me go but pulled me closer instead.
“I know.” He looked at our intertwined hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you talk and instead fired you. And for what it’s worth I didn’t mean anything I said to you. Not a word.”
He lifted his head and our eyes met. His apology meant more to me than I could ever tell him. But I also knew that we could never be together again.
“Friends?” I asked, the word tasting foul on my tongue.
“Fuck no,” he answered and my heart dropped. Fuck me, but his rejection hurt. And even though he’d already pushed me away once, this time it seemed to cause even more pain. He didn’t even think about his answer.
He dropped my hand and I pulled it back, debating whether it would be worth the damage it would cause to my hand to punch him. Hurting him wouldn’t help with the sense of loss I felt, but it would certainly make me feel better.
Before I had a chance to decide whether I wanted to go down the path of insanity, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. As soon as he made contact, my arms wound around his neck and my body stepped closer. His kiss felt like ecstasy, his hands roaming my body making me sigh in pleasure. I savored every stroke of his tongue, every touch of his lips.
I pulled him closer, thinking the whole time that this was what happy felt like.
He eventually broke the kiss and buried his nose in my neck. “Stella, tell me this isn’t over between us.”
“I’m engaged.”
“Then get unengaged. You don’t have to marry him. I can take care of you.”
I stepped back, getting the distance I needed to think clearly.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Mason, I can’t break this engagement. It’s too late.”
“Nothing is too late. You aren’t married yet. Is it because you don’t want us to happen?”
“I want this so much. I think about you every second of every day. It hurts to be away from you. I want to be able to touch you whenever I want. Kiss you when the mood strikes. But I can’t.”
He looked angry again, his short temper flaring.
“That’s bullshit. Just break off your contract.”
“It’s not that easy.”
He stepped back, already retreating. The physical distance he put between us hurt. “It is exactly that easy. Looks to me like you just don’t want to.”
He turned his back to me and left, not giving me a chance to say anything else. God, his temper was going to get him slapped one of these days.
Seemed like I was just as impulsive as he was, because instead of leaving it alone I stormed out after him.
“Don’t you run away from me, you coward,” I yelled at his retreating back. He stopped, his posture rigid, his head hanging low.
“It’s pretty clear who the coward in this scenario is,” he responded, not turning around but also not running away.
All noise stopped and three sets of eyes were watching me stomp my way over to where Mason stood. I didn’t make nearly as much noise as I wanted to, my sneakers silent on the polished concrete floor, only making the occasional squeak.
Once I got close enough to him I pushed him in the back, a weak attempt to get his attention but one that had the desired effect. He turned around and acknowledged me.
“What do you want from me?” he roared, uncaring of our audience.
“I only want you, you big fat jerkface.”
