Page 46 of The Real Mason
I look down at my plate. “I want it to be with you.”
“I know you do. And I hope it is.”
I need him to understand, to know how very significant last night was to me. “That was the best night of my life,” I whisper. “I never knew…”
“I’m glad.” There’s no happiness in his tone. “I feel the same way.”
The words clog in my throat, but I force them free. He deserves at least that much from me. “As wonderful as it was, I don’t know if I can live like that all the time.”
He nods. “I understand. It’s a lot to process.”
I can feel tension in my neck as I swallow. Part of me wishes he’d yell at me. Fight. Do anything but be understanding and accepting.
“You have no idea how badly I want to stay right now.”
He smiles, a sad, bittersweet twist of his lips. “Of course I do. In the past fourteen hours, I’ve learned just how much you want to please me.”
I wrap my arms around my chest. “How do you know it wasn’t just the heat of the moment?”
He stands and walks over to me. My heart squeezes as I stare at his beautiful face, those deep, soulful eyes. He trails his finger down the curve of my neck.
I shiver at the hint of possession in the gesture.
“Once maybe, but over and over again seems improbable, don’t you think?”
I avert my gaze, ignoring the truth. “I don’t know.”
“It’s only a matter of whether the heart accepts. And that’s something you’ll need to decide on your own.” He crooks a finger under my chin. “You need to go now.”
Fear chills me.Is this the end?I nod. “Okay.”
He looks at me for a long, long time, as though he’s memorizing every nuance and feature of my face. He tucks a stray curl behind my ear. “Be careful out there.”
My heart feels like it’s breaking. I want to snatch it all back, but it’s too late for that. I need to figure this out, and I need to do it alone.
I stand and take the steps I need to take. “Goodbye, Mason.”
10
Anna
I’m in hell.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The damage is too great to fix. All the makeup skills in the world can’t paint on a happy face, so I’ll have to teach my first graders looking as if I’ve been hit by a truck.
Deep, purple circles shadow my eyes, making them too big for my face. After two days of barely eating, my cheeks have hollowed and the grayish cast to my complexion makes me appear fragile, as tragic and empty as I feel.
The last thing I want to do is go to work. How can I do something so mundane when my whole world is collapsing? I’d call in sick, but I’m not sure I could bear the endless hours stretched out before me without something to occupy my mind.
These have been some of the worst days of my life. I’ve roamed through my house like a lost soul, desperate to talk to Mason, to call him, to rush back to his house and say leaving was a big mistake. But I haven’t done any of that. Instead I’ve paced and cried.
Wallowed in my own misery.
Why can’t I call? I love him, and he loves me. It’s easy. I’m making it hard. But still, something stops me.
Fear.
But what exactly am I afraid of? That I’ll have to spend the rest of my life having multiple screaming orgasms? No, that’s not it. I just don’t know if I can live with the conditions that come with them.
