“Mason Aldrich.” She sets down her glass, turning to face me fully. “Did you just have my mother removed from this event?”
“Technically, security had her removed. I just provided moral support.”
“You didn’t have to do that alone, you know.” She reaches out, her fingers brushing the lapel of my jacket. “I can fight my own battles.”
“I know you can. But you were having a good time. You needed to focus on the event.”
“What I need,” she says, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between us, “is for you to understand something.”
I wait, more than a little curious where she is going with this.
“I don’t know if I’ll alwaysneedyou, Mason.” Her amber eyes hold mine, steady and certain. “But I will definitely alwayswantyou. Those aren’t the same thing.”
A warm pressure starts in my chest and spreads outward until I can feel it in my fingertips, my toes, every nerve ending I possess.
I cup her face in my hands, watching the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches.
“I love you.”
It might be the first time I’ve said baldly, but the words come easy because I’ve been expressing a similar enough sentiment for years.
Her mouth curves into a smug smile. “I know.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you love that about me.”
I do. I really do.
ATTICUS
Phoenix bounces through the front door like she’s mainlining pure caffeine.
I catch her halfway to the stairs, intercepting her before she can disappear into whatever late-night routine she’s developed over the past few weeks.
“Hey.” I snag her wrist gently. “Got a minute? I want to show you something.”
Mason has gone to pick Judah up from the airport. Dom is working an event in Malibu.
So Phoenix and I have the rest of the evening to ourselves and I plan to make the most of it.
Curiosity flickers across her face. “Show me what?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“You love surprises. As long as they’re good.”
She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. Her lips purse. “I guess you do have me there.”
I lead her down the hallway toward the room I’d waved off as storage when she first moved in and kept assiduously locked whenever she happened to be home. Given what I know of her personality, Phoenix has been remarkably incurious about what’s in here, which either means she trusts me not to hide anything important or she’s been too distracted to care.
Probably a little of both.
We stop in front of the plain white door and I find myself hesitating.
What if she hates it?
