I shake my head. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make it messier.”
“Well,” he says. “Mission accomplished.”
I half-laugh, but it comes out wrong. “It was one night. The wedding night. All three of us.”
Mason squints. “Wait—Chris, too?”
I nod.
“Damn,” he mutters. “I thought that tension at breakfast was just ‘oops, Wyatt banged Nina.’“
“It was more than that,” I say. “And less.”
He waits.
“It wasn’t just sex,” I add. “For any of us.”
Mason adjusts Zoey on his lap, sobering. “You think he regrets it?”
“I think he doesn’t know what to do with it.”
He nods once. “Was that it?”
I shake my head. “About a week later he showed up on Nina’s doorstep.”
I pause, trying to find the right way to say it. The right amount to say.
“I was packing up her things, but she was already gone. Headed to LA. He didn’t know that.”
The image is still sharp. Chris in the doorway, shoulders tense, eyes bloodshot. He didn’t look surprised to see me. Just disappointed it wasn’t her.
“He looked like hell. Maybe he thought he could stop her. Talk her out of it. But it was just me.”
Mason stays quiet, letting me work through it. His Zavala op may have ended, but our policy of brutal honesty seems to have stuck. Except now I feel like he’s the one handling me.
“We talked. Not for long. Mostly he asked questions. About her. About how she was while he was gone.”
I swallow.
“He didn’t say much about himself, but I could see it. He was coming apart.”
I remember the way Chris stood too still, like his skin didn’t fit. The way his voice caught when he said her name. The way he looked at me, like he was daring me not to understand.
“And then he kissed me.”
I shake my head, half at myself. “It wasn’t impulsive. Not really. It felt... deliberate.”
“Didn’t end well I take it?” Mason asks gently.
I shrug. “He stayed the night. Then left before sunrise. No note. We haven’t spoken since.”
Mason sighs. “Christ.”
“Yeah.”
“Nina’s been quiet,” he says, shifting Zoey again. “Callie mentioned it during our trip. Said she’s usually quicker to respond to texts.”
Guilt tightens my chest. I’ve been giving her space. Maybe too much.
