Page 119 of Please Open Me
Mason’s teeth sank into her lower lip, and she shook her head before looking away from me.
“Get out.” She pointed toward the door.
She didn’t raise her voice. Or call me names or even sound mean. She sounded final, like her mind was beyond made up, and I couldn’t change that. My stomach flipped, and I tried to put a hand on her shoulder to start to apologize, but she slapped me away.
“Get. Out.” She jabbed her finger harder toward the door, jaw trembling even as she tried to look unshaken. “Before I say something I can’t take back.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. For the first time all night, I didn’t know what to argue. I’d crossed a line, one I couldn’t uncross.
In the distance, I heard the unmistakable sound of Rosie whimpering. If I knew my baby girl—which I did—she’d just woken up from a nap. She needed her twenty minutes of snuggles while she woke up.
Mason turned on her heels to go get her, not looking back at me.
“Mae, Leona said you need to rest. I haven’t seen Rosie, let me–”
The loose hair framing Mason’s face swished around as she turned to look at me with the angriest expression I’d ever seen on her.
“Don’t you dare usemydaughter as an excuse to stay.”
Her words landed like a slap, sharper than her hand on mine a moment ago. She wasn’t shaking anymore. No wobble in her voice, no hesitation in her eyes, just the pure, unadulterated desire to do what was best for the kids. And I loved it, I loved her, but I didn’t want her to grow her backbone now.
“She’s mine too,” I shot back, though it came out weaker than I meant. “Please don’t take my baby, you know how much she means to me.”
“I know, and doing this kills me.” Mason stepped closer, fists at her sides. “But unlike you, and Sophia, and Lucian, and Sebastian, I willalwayspick the kids first. Because I know what it’s like growing up, dying to be chosen by someone you love. Lucian chose drugs; you’re choosing murderers.”
“Thosemurderersloved you when you were at your lowest.” They’d done the same for me, too.
“And that’s why I haven’t called the cops.” She stepped back as she took a breath. “I don’t know what to do, Cameron. I just know that these children are my top priority. And I thought we’d be yours too.”
Her anger gave way to barely masked pain.
My lungs burned as if I’d just sprinted up a hill.
“Mae.” Her name came out warbled. “I don’t know how to do this without you and the kids.”
She slowly shook her head.
“It doesn’t have to be forever; we just need time. Cam, I don’t know what's right or wrong anymore.”
Once again, she hugged herself, arms wrapped defensively around her stomach.
“I’ve got a photoshoot later this week in L.A., then a day in the studio, and two days of press, and my agent mentioned something about an impromptu show. I’ll be gone for almost a week. Maybe… After that, after the noise quiets down a little, we can talk again.Tryagain.” Her words were slow and exhausted, the kind of words you use when you don’t have anything left to give but aren’t fully committed to ending this chapter of your life.
My throat tightened, because she wasn’t sayingnever. She wasn’t saying it was over. But she was saying we’d lost her for now.
“You taking the kids with you?” I asked, voice hoarse with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.
Mason shook her head. “Leona’s keeping them here. I’ll be flying back and forth as much as I can.”
“You’re supposed to be resting. Leona said the doctor–”
“And I was hoping I’d have help. But I’m okay doing it on my own, because I don’t have another choice.”
I froze, unsure what to do, and Mason walked closer before growing to her tiptoes. Instinctually, I leaned down, and her lips met mine, just as they’d done every day for the last year. Her thumb brushed the scruff of my beard, and I wanted to pull her close and apologize for everything while demanding this all ended.
But before my mouth could catch up with my mind, she pulled away.
“I will always love you, and Lucian, and Sophia, and Sebastian. But love isn’t always enough. Not when there are kids involved.” She sounded sure and sad.
