He snorted. “Yeah, you were. Know how I know?”
I nodded. Chase had done everything he could to talk himself out of a relationship with Lee when things had first gotten real between them. We had a lot of messed-up stuff in our past that meant we were both pretty blind about what a healthy relationship looked like. Luckily we had good role models surrounding us now, but a whole army of them wouldn’t be enough to undo all of the fuckery we’d internalized as kids. We were works in progress, Chase and me, but we were both trying.
A couple of women in yoga pants, with mats rolled up under their arms, walked past us and into the bakery.
Chase stood up. “I should get back. Wait here a second, okay?”
He hurried inside.
I stood and looped Dog’s leash around my wrist. He sniffed very carefully at the end of the bench, so I moved him away so he didn’t piss on it. Chase darted back outside and shoved a bigger bag into my arms.
“If you need me, call me,” he said with a glower. “And send more kitten photos.”
“Okay.”
He flipped me the bird, which was his way of waving goodbye, and Dog and I headed back to Mason’s, the smell of fresh bread, warm cookies, and sugary pastries wafting from the bag.
When I got backto Mason’s place, I fed the kittens and made a pot of coffee. When Mason finally came downstairs, he found me in the kitchen holding up the bag of pastries. A warm smile lit up his expression. His hair was still tangled from sleep and he had a crease up the side of his face, and the soft, rumpled look suited him.
“Have you already been out?” He checked his wrist for a watch he wasn’t wearing. “Shit. What time is it?”
“It’s not even eight yet,” I said. “And you’re allowed to sleep in.”
He pointed at me. “Careful. If you keep saying stuff like that, I might never let you leave.”
I snorted, ignoring the stupid, hopeful flutter in my chest, and passed him the bag. “Dog and I went and saw Chase.”
He pulled out a cookie and bit into it. “Holy shit, that’s so good.”
“Lee’s a great baker,” I said. “Um, he sometimes makes dessert for spaghetti night. That’s when we all get together and have spaghetti.”
Mason’s mouth twitched. “I figured.”
My face felt hot. “Yeah. Anyway, it’s tonight, if you wanted to come.” And now my face was even hotter, but I remembered about asking for what I wanted. “I’d like you to come.”
I felt a moment of triumph at getting all the words out before it turned to panic that maybe I was crossing a line somehow. Just because we’d gone to bed a couple of times, that didn’t mean Mason wanted to come to dinner with a bunch of strangers.
But before I could second-guess myself, Mason said, “Really?”
And there was enough uncertainty in his voice to remind me that maybe I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing. Maybe Mason was trying to figure it out as he went as well. Maybe everyone in the world was.
If that was true, it didn’t seem as scary anymore. Or at least it didn’t mean I was alone.
“I’d like you to come,” I repeated. “And the guys want to meet you. Like, in different circumstances than when you’re about to cost us hundreds of dollars, I mean.”
Mason laughed softly. “Yeah, I bet.”
“So you’ll come?” I pulled my own cookie out of the bag just to have something to do with my hands while I waited for his answer.
“I’d really like that, yeah,” he said. “I don’t know many people in town—I mean, apart from my clients.”
He looked kind of thoughtful for a second, almost regretful, and I remembered how lonely it was moving to a new place. Except when Chase and I had arrived in Goose Run, we’d fallen headfirst into a family, and of course we’d had each other. Whodid Mason have? I should have taken him to meet the guys way before spaghetti night.
“It’ll be fun,” I said, and then rethought that. “It’ll beloud. But they’re good guys.”
Mason took another bite of his cookie. “Tell me about them?”
Not that long ago, someone asking me to tell them something would have closed up my throat faster than an allergic reaction. But I took a breath and nodded and said, “Okay.”
