by Candy Gray
“Watch it,” I said. “Even best friends have lines.”
“Do best friends fuck their friend’s brothers?” she asked.
“Sometimes, yes,” I said, grinning.
“Seriously? You’re cracking jokes right now?”
“What the hell am I supposed to do? You’re angry beyond belief, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Don’t lie anymore, Sarah. That’s what you do about it.”
“Fine! Then what do you want to know?” I asked.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me the two of you started seeing one another again? You told me shit didn’t work out and then what? Were those phone calls all throughout that dinner him?”
“Yes,” I said.
“So, he just kept fucking pestering you like a petulant toddler?”
“A petulant toddler?” I asked, grinning.
“Sarah, not only did you lie about seeing him, you lied about meeting him. Wednesday was a fucking game for you both. I have every reason to be angry over that. At both of you.”
“Yes. Yes you do,” I said. “But I technically didn’t lie about the whole ‘we stopped seeing each other’ thing. It just never came back up in conversation that we were seeing one another again.”
“Are you actually gonna split hairs on this thing? You’re at fault. You both are. End of story.”
“Well if you didn’t try to control who I dated, then maybe I would’ve told you sooner,” I said.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“It was your fucking idea for me to date Ryan! He was a blind date you set me up on because you thought we would be so perfect together,” I said.
“It’s not my fault he was sucking face with your co-host or whatever,” she said.
“And the blind date before that, what was his name? Eric? Yeah, the guy I dated for, like, three weeks before I saw him out with that fun little busty blonde in the middle of downtown Dallas. Thank fuck I hadn’t gone public with that one yet.”
“All I did was set you up on those dates. They seemed like decent enough men—”
“Every time we talk about my dating life, you make it sound like I’ve picked these guys. And sure, I picked the one in high school, and he was a real fucking piece of shit work. I got it. But you’ve set me up on five blind dates. One of them came out of the closet shortly after, two still lived with their parents, and the other two I dated fucking cheated on me.”
“Well, maybe there isn’t something wrong with my choices. Maybe there’s just something wrong with you!”
I sat there for a long while simply staring at my best friend. I allowed the words to soak into my head as I watched her face drop. It was like I’d been sucked into a vacuum. All I could hear was the whirring of her air conditioning kick on as her lips moved. There were no words. No sounds. Just me, my thoughts, and the words that had flown from her mouth.
Maybe there’s just something wrong with you.
“Sarah, I didn’t mean that,” she said.
I got up from the couch. I felt my face paling with every step I took toward the door. I felt the walls closing in as tears rose to my eyes, and all I wanted to do was get back to the safety of my apartment.
“Sarah, please. Please don’t leave,” she said.
I felt her grab my hand, and I yanked it out with a fury. I whipped around, my watery gaze connecting with hers as tears promptly flowed down her cheeks. I knew she had a right to be angry with me. Angry at both of us. I knew she had a right to dodge our phone calls, so she could have time to process everything. I knew she needed space to breathe and digest everything that was going on around her.
But she sure as hell didn’t have the right to say that.
“I’m sorry. Sarah, don’t go. Sarah please!”
I walked out the door and found my way to my car. I don’t know how I got home, I don’t know how in the world I fucking operated my car, but I didn’t come out of my shocked reverie until I was pushing my apartment door open into the only space in my life I felt was really, truly mine.
Then, I dropped to my knees and sobbed.
Chapter 28
Mason
All day and all night I had my eyes glued to the media. They kept replaying my press conference over and over again like it was some grand piece of art. Emma still wasn’t taking my calls, but now neither was Sarah. She sent me a text message saying she went to speak with Emma, but that was it.
At least she hadn’t written me out altogether.
The media was completely divided. Some were happy for me and saying we had a real relationship going on, which was false. I rolled my eyes and groaned, thinking about how easy it was to trick people into thinking two individuals were going hot and heavy or some bullshit. Sarah and I weren’t in a relationship. Not even close. I just wanted them to stop fucking calling her some bullshit word like hypocrite. She wasn’t a hypocrite. She was an attractive, successful, independent, rich, virile woman.
What the fuck was wrong with that?
They kept chirping on about how cute we looked and how happy she seemed. They praised me for bringing her out of her shell ever since the debacle with her ex. They kept fucking flashing pictures of her ex sucking face with her co-host, and all I could do was groan and hope to fuck Sarah wasn’t watching the news. She’d be so pissed they were dredging up all this stuff while trying to praise a relationship she wasn’t in.
The other half of the media was correct that we weren’t in a real relationship. But they were calling me a pig for it. A pig! Why the fuck am I the pig because I want to spoil and bang the hottest woman in Dallas? It’s not like she didn’t agree to it. It’s not like she wasn’t having fun. They were saying things like ‘I’m just taking her along for a ride’ and ‘she’ll end up like my other conquests.’ What was that supposed to mean, ‘my other conquests’? My other hookups went on to find the men of their dreams. All the women I dated once or twice would hook up with men who married their asses after me.
I fucking bolstered them into their long-term relationships. I was a professional stepping stone who set the bar for those women in their lives. After me, they knew what they deserved and how they should be treated, and it formed foundations that found them what they really wanted.
Forever love and all that shit.
Report after report after report came coming in. Some media outlets were dissecting my relationships while others were dissecting hers. It was disgusting if you asked me, and I was worried about Sarah. Sure, we weren’t in a real relationship or whatever. But I knew this was hurting her and her best friend.
My sister.
I needed to try and call Emma again now that we’d all had a chance to sleep on things.
But even when I cut off the television, Tony kept texting me headlines for all sorts of bullshit and asking me if I’d talked with Sarah. He wouldn’t fucking leave me alone, and it was like he knew I’d cut off my only source of news. There were a couple of press mongers still hanging around my house, but they left once they realized I wasn’t coming out anytime soon. I shut the blinds and raked my hand through my hair, feeling stressed all the way to my bones.
I needed to get away, and I wanted her to come with me.
I picked up my phone and dialed Sarah’s number immediately. The phone rang and rang, and I almost hung up and called right back. But just before her answering machine took over, I heard a click on the other end of the line.
A click, and then a sniffle.
Shit. Sarah wasn’t doing well, and that tugged at something deep within my chest.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Do you want to get away with me?”
“What?” she asked.
“No questions asked. Just one day of getting away from all this bullshit and all the press and all the media and just existing? Just one day?”
There was silence, and I was hanging onto her every breath. I could hear her thinking, if there was ever such a thing. My h
ands were shaking and everything inside of me screamed for her to say yes. I wanted her to come away with me desperately. I wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes. I wanted to put a smile on her face and clear her mind if only for a little while.
I wanted to lose myself in her more desperately than I had realized, and I honestly wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Okay,” she finally said.
“Okay? So… you’ll come? With me?”
“Yes. But I don’t know how to get to you. The press is all lined up outside of my complex,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. I’m going to come for you in my black convertible. The windows are completely tinted. Put yourself in a costume, pack a large purse with a change of clothes and a few of your toiletries, and go out the back of your complex. Walk down one block to that colorful coffee shop, and I’ll pick you up out back in thirty minutes. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll go get changed now,” she said.
I packed a change of clothes in a small bag and tossed my toiletries in. I hopped into my car and rolled up the windows before I put my sunglasses on. I cruised into town, searching in my rearview mirror for any signs that someone was following me. I circled downtown twice, driving the speed limit and doing everything I needed to before I pulled into the back of the coffee shop.
I didn’t even recognize her until she dropped down into the seat and closed the door.
She was wearing a pair of black leggings and a brown oversized sweater. She had on sunglasses, a broadly-brimmed hat that hid her face in the shadows, and a cream-colored purse stuffed full of clothes.
“Just in case you want to make it two days,” she said, sighing.
I buzzed out of the coffee shop, and we used the backroads until we hit the highway. We drove and we drove until the city was thirty minutes behind us, then finally Sarah unwound herself from her clothes. She tossed her hat into the back and rolled up her sleeves, and the moment she took off her sunglasses, I saw how reddened her eyes were.
I reached over automatically and took her hand, drawing faint circles on top of her skin as she sighed heavily.
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to ask her about going and seeing Emma, but something told me that was a sore topic that wasn’t meant for now. I promised her we would get away, and that meant not talking about anything that was happening back in Dallas.
So, I did the only thing I knew would make her happy.
I rolled down the windows and the top of the convertible and let her jet-black hair roam freely.
A smile slowly crossed her face as she closed her eyes. She laid back in my seat, breathing in the warm country air as I cruised down the road. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her as I tried to dart them between the road and her face. For the first time since we started this whole thing between us, she actually looked relaxed.
It warmed my chest in a way I’d never felt in my entire life.
We drove for over four hours until we finally pulled into the small town of Fredericksburg. I knew this place was known for their wines and vineyards, and something told me we would be consuming a great deal of it. I pulled us into a place called the Hoffman Haus, a quaint bed and breakfast that boasted of a day spa. I parked my car and rolled up the windows and roof, watching Sarah as she reluctantly peeled herself from the seat.
She did love those top-down rides, and I was so glad I could give them to her.
“Hello and welcome to Hoffman Haus. My name is Betsy, and I’m your front desk attendant. Do y’all need one room or two?” she asked.
“One room and extreme discretion,” I said as I slid her two hundred dollars.
“Why, I don’t know what in the world y’all are talkin’ about,” she said as she slid the money back to me. “Y’all just out of towners, ain’tcha?”
I smiled gratefully at the woman as she plucked a pair of keys and put them in my hand.
“How many nights ya need, darlin’?” she asked.
“One, but the potential for two,” I said.
“I got just the room for y’all. Follow me.”
She led us up the stairs and took a hard left. We walked all the way down the hallway where she threw open a massive door, and it led into a beautiful room with a king-sized bed. There was an en suite bathroom with a jet tub and a walk-in shower, and I heard Sarah sigh with relief as she dropped her purse into the corner.
“This is beautiful,” she said. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”
“‘Round here, you won’t get nothin’ but. Lots of people come here to get away from everythin’. We hope you enjoy your stay. We got a day spa that’s open from eight to five, so make yourselves comfortable. Wanna book up any sessions while I’m here?” she asked.
“Could we have two masseuses come to the room for us?” I asked.
“I can arrange that. Give ‘em thirty minutes, and they’ll be up here.”
“Thank you so much,” I said.
“A massage?” Sarah asked.
“Yep. And that’s just the start.”
The massages were fantastic. Sarah moaned and groaned through her entire one, and it was all I could do to keep my erection at bay. The two-hours massages were fantastic, and by the time they were done, I didn’t want to move. They let us lay there for a few minutes and bask in our relaxation, and I made sure to tip them well and thank them for coming up here to us.
“Oh, fuck. That was perfect,” she said.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You getting hungry? It’s a little after dinner time around here, so places won’t be too crowded.”
“Can there be wine involved?” she asked.
“Isn’t there always?” I asked.
The two of us got changed and made our way into the city. The bed and breakfast we found was right on the outskirts of Fredericksburg, a short three-block walk into the heart of the small town. Sarah held my hand tightly as we walked down the sidewalk, earning lazy nods from the locals as we searched for a place to eat. There were plenty of hot dog and barbecue places along with wine and cigar bars, but the moment we came across a wine bar with a menu, we dove on in.
The place barely had anyone in it, and we sat in the back, so we could keep an eye on the front of the building.
Our waiter gave us a wine menu with a fabulous selection I didn’t expect to find in a small town. Most of them were made right here in the city, but a few were imported. Sarah joked that she wanted a bottle all to herself after all the shit that went down, and I strongly suspected she was partially serious. So, when she ordered her glass of wine, I told the waiter to bring the bottle over.
“Mason, that isn’t necessary,” she said.
“Yes, it is. And I’ll have the bottle that goes along with mine as well,” I said.
“Right away, y’all. Take your time ordering. If ya need suggestions, the barbecued duck is real good. Chef’s specialty.”
“Then I think I’ll have that,” Sarah said.
“With what two sides?” the waiter asked.
“Whatever the chef likes best. I’m not in a picking mood right now.”
“I’ll do the eight-ounce steak, rare. I still want it mooing at me a bit,” I said.
“I hear ya on that one,” the waiter said, smiling. “What two sides?”
“The double-baked mashed potatoes and roasted lemon vegetables,” I said.
“Comin’ right up, I’ll put those orders in and bring it out when it’s ready. Make sure to save room for dessert, though. The chef freshly prepares a mean peach cobbler and german chocolate cake.”
The hum that came from Sarah’s lips twitched my cock as I smiled at her.
“Feeling any better?” I asked.
“Much, now that I have this wine,” she said.
“It’s nice to be in a place where no one knows who we are,” I said.
“Or at least acts like they don’t. Can we stay here forever? I’d live in that bed and breakfast and hire that man to be my personal masseuse.”
<
br /> “I could give you massages anytime you wanted,” I said.
“That might be better. Yours come with happy endings,” she said, winking.
“You’re damn right they do. But seriously, how are you feeling?”
I took her hand from across the table and watched as she sipped on her wine. Her eyes rose to meet mine, and for the first time, I saw a very scared Sarah. I wasn’t sure what had frightened her so badly, but the mere fact that she felt comfortable showing it to me warmed my soul.