“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmur into her hair.
We sit there for a long while, quiet, her sniffling every so often, my thumb tracing small circles on her back.
“Mason?” she whispers after a few minutes.
“Yeah?”
“Can you love me how you used to? Before everything got so serious?”
My chest tightens in the best way. I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, my thumb brushing her cheek.
“Yeah, baby,” I say softly.
She moves closer, sliding her hand over my shoulder, and when our mouths meet, it’s slow, gentle, like we’re rediscovering something we almost forgot.
She shifts into my lap and my hands find her hips, pulling her in. The kiss deepens. She threads her fingers into my hair, and her body presses closer. I feel her relax, melting into me.
I slide my palms up her back, guiding her gently until she eases down against the cushions, pulling me with her. The couch shifts under our weight.
“You wanna stay here?”
She hums a yes, her quiet laugh mingling between our lips. I settle my body closer as her hands slide under my shirt, slow and teasing, and the night settles around us as we lose ourselves in each other again.
Chapter 31
Megan
I could smell the barbecue from our place, and when Mason and I pull up to the big house, the sound of music and laughter drifts through the open windows and carries across the yard.
We walk around the house toward the backyard. I’ve got a pan of brownies in one hand, still warm from the oven. Mason helped me make them. He likes baking more than he lets on, I think, because anytime he sees me making something, he jumps in to help. And I think it’s sweet.
Leonard’s manning the grill, flipping burgers and wearing that ridiculous apron Maureen got him for Christmas that saysMr. Good Looking is Cooking. Maureen’s got Weston snuggled against her chest, rocking him gently in one of the patio chairs while she chats with the girls.
Across the yard, Wesley and Jesse are standing guard by the swing set, watching the kids play. Jesse’s making sure no one falls off the platform, while Wesley pushes Emma on the swing. She’s squealing with joy. Further down, Cody’s trailing behind Gage, who’s still in that wobbly, unsteady-walking phase, toddling through the grass with a ball in one hand and a stick in the other.
The second we’re spotted, Cora comes running, blond hair flying, pink sundress bouncing with every step. “Guess what I did!” she yells, vibrating with excitement.
“Tell me!” Mason crouches down, grinning like he’s about to hear the secret of the century.
“I helped Grandma pour the lemonade all by myself and only spilled a little bit!”
“No way!” Mason gasps, overly dramatic.
“Wow!” I laugh. “That’s amazing!”
She beams, proud as can be, and darts off again.
We make our way to the patio table, greeted with the usual round of warm hellos. The table’s set with mismatched paper plates and disposable silverware, everything spread over a red-checked tablecloth. The air smells like grilled corn, barbecue sauce, and Maureen’s sweet tea.
* * *
By the time lunch is over, the kids have scattered. Cora and Emma are blowing bubbles for the younger ones to chase, and Mason’s determined to teach them how to make the “really big ones.”
After we clean up, us girls hang out at the table, sipping tea and swatting gnats. Mason is tossing a football back and forth with Jesse and Wes. Meanwhile, Cody and Leonard are on kid duty at the swing set. It’s quite comical.
“Alright.” Jesse claps his hands, voice carrying across the yard. “Me and Wes against Mason and Cody. Two-hand touch, five-yard passes.”
Cody scoffs. “Two-hand touch? You scared you’ll break a nail?”
