by Megan Green
As I drove, I imagined myself throwing open the front door, my declaration of love bursting from my lips and ringing through the house because I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
But if Mason has company …
Guess I’ll have to be patient.
Today is turning out to be a never-ending exercise in testing my patience.
I pull my car up next to the curb in front of Mason’s house, popping the hunk of junk into park before climbing out. I briefly debate on interrupting whatever it is that might be going on inside. It might be someone from the station, and do I really want to walk in and bother Mason when he’s talking business?
But I shake it off almost as soon as I think it. That’s the old Maddy talking, the girl who’s afraid to be seen or cause even the slightest inconvenience. Besides, if Mason found out that I sat in my car in front of the house while he finished with whoever was inside, he’d be furious. He’s asked me repeatedly to treat his house as my own, always frowning whenever I knock on the front door.
“My home is your home, Mads. Don’t ever feel like you’re not welcome here.”
He’s told me those words, or some variation of them, at least a hundred times over the last few months. But it’s never felt right to me, just opening his door and strolling inside like I own the place. I don’t live here, so I don’t want to act like I do.
Mason still isn’t aware of the fact that I am living in my office. Every time he’s brought up the subject of dropping by my place, I’ve always deflected, telling him it is so much more convenient to go to his house. It is easy to do, considering he has a five-year-old daughter who always likes being near her things. And while I haven’t come right out and lied to him about my living arrangements, if there’s one thing this whole experience has taught me, it’s that lying by omission is no different than straight-up lying to his face.
Add that to the list of things we need to discuss later tonight after his guest leaves.
I don’t want Mason’s pity, and I know as soon as he finds out I’ve been sleeping on the fold-out sofa in my office, he’ll insist I stay here with them. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. And I don’t want Mason to feel obligated to care for me.
But it is time I stop considering myself a burden to everyone around me and let Mason make his own decisions.
I’ll be sure to make it clear I don’t expect to be invited to stay here. I am just sick of all the secrets.
I quickly stride across the yard, suddenly anxious to see him. My hand comes up to knock on the front door when I reach it, just like it always does. But before it can land the first blow, I pause.
It’s time to put my money where my mouth is.
If I want to show Mason I’m serious about things changing between us, about finally letting him in completely, then I need to start with honoring his requests.
Mason has told me to just walk in whenever I get here.
So, that’s what I do.
Pushing open the front door, a swell of happiness builds in my chest as I cross the threshold. Deciding to take the whole thing a step further—no matter how cheesy it might be—I lift my face and suck in a deep breath.
“Honey, I’m hom—” My words fall short, my eyes landing on Mason as he sits on the sofa next to a woman.
There’s at least three feet of space separating them, so it’s not like I’ve caught him in a compromising situation. No, the thing that has my pulse buzzing in my ears and my tongue swelling to three times its normal size isn’t the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with another woman.
It’s who this woman is.
My mouth falls open as I stare at the two of them in shock, my eyes blinking rapidly as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Mason’s face pales when he sees me, his eyes going wide and round as he realizes the scene I’ve walked in on. His mouth opens as if to speak, but not a single word comes out.
Stephanie Harris sits perched on the sofa between us. Even if I could force my feet to move, to go to Mason, to ask him to explain, I’d have to pass her in order to do so.
Her eyes flick up to me when I announce my arrival, her lips pulling back in a sneer at the unwanted interruption. Her gaze travels up my body, her eyes flashing with amusement when she finally gets to my face.
“Oh, this is just too good,” she says with a laugh, her eyes moving over to Mason before coming back to me. “You know, when Joe Robbins sent me a message on Facebook and told me he’d seen the two of you together, I couldn’t believe it. My husband … out on a date with another woman. The thought was almost too ridiculous to imagine. But then, when he told me it was you—that Mason Cooper was on a date with Fatty Maddy … well, I knew he must’ve been mistaken. Still, I had to come back and see for myself. Had to make sure Mason was still upholding those vows he’d sworn to me all those years ago.”
I wince at the sound of the nickname, but it’s short-lived as the reality of what she said hits me. My gaze darts to Mason, tears welling in my eyes as I plead with him to tell me what she said isn’t true.
At the sight of my crumpled face, Mason finally seems to find his voice. “Maddy, I can explain.”
He makes a move to stand, but Stephanie slides next to him, pushing him back down against the cushions.
“What’s to explain, sweetheart? You’re a married man. Your wife is home now, so it’s time to stop toying with this girl. I mean,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder before lifting her eyes back to me, “I’m all for a good joke. But enough is enough. It’s time to let her get on with her life.”
Stephanie lifts her hand, bringing it up to rub up and down Mason’s bicep. And there, on her left fourth finger, sits a diamond ring.
All the air rushes from my lungs when I see it, my fight-or-flight instinct kicking in and settling firmly on the flight option.
I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t be here. Not with her. Not with him. Not with … them.
I take a few steps back, trying to get my bearings. Once I’m certain my feet aren’t going to give way beneath me, I turn, a sob breaking free from my lungs as I rush to the door. I bring a hand up to cover my lips.
I refuse to give this bitch the satisfaction of seeing me cry yet again.
“Maddy, wait!” Mason shouts as I fly out the door.
But it only makes my feet move faster.
I hear as Stephanie tries to get him to stay, hear the sound of the coffee table sliding across the floor, no doubt bumped in the shuffle as Mason tries to follow me and Stephanie blocks his progress.
I’m almost to my car, my vision blurring through all my unshed tears, when I hear Mason tear out of the house behind me. He crosses the distance between us in only a second, his hand closing around my arm, spinning me to face him.
I struggle against his hold, but I don’t have the strength to resist for long. He pulls me to his chest, his hand coming up to caress my hair as I sob against his shirt.
And just for a moment, I allow myself to have him. I allow myself one last memory of his embrace, something to hold on to after what I know is about to happen.
Every part of my body rebels when I do, but somehow, I summon enough willpower to pull away from him. He lets me go, no doubt thinking I’m done running.
I look up at him, imprinting his beautiful face in my mind one final time. He gives me a delicate smile, and I’m grateful. Grateful that this is the last image I’ll have of him. Not one of shock or hurt. Not one of deceit and lies.
Dropping my gaze from his face, I take a step back.
“Maddy, what are you—” Mason starts, reaching to pull me back to him.
“Is it true?” I ask, proud of the steadiness of my voice when I feel anything but.
I don’t lift my eyes to look at him, don’t want to see the way his face falls and his lips twist into a frown.
“Are you still married to her, Mason?” I say again, this time leaving no doubt as to what I’m asking.
“Well, techni
cally—”
I whirl around, rushing to the driver’s side of my car.
“Maddy, wait. You don’t under—”
“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand, Mason Cooper,” I say, keeping my eyes on the lock of my door as I fumble with my keys. “I understand perfectly. You have a wife. A wife that you failed to mention you were still. Married. To!” I shout the last three words, unable to hold in my emotion any longer.
“Maddy, I didn’t have—”
I hold up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I can understand the mix-up of you not telling me who she was. That could have been an honest mistake. But this? God, Mason, this?” I say, my voice breaking on the last word.
A key finally slides into the lock on my door, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Opening the door, I pause before slipping inside. Keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the ground, still unwilling to look at him and risk tarnishing my final memory of his face, I speak, “This isn’t even about Stephanie Harris, Mason. You lied to me. You’re a married man.”
Mason stands there, completely silent, except for the sound of his muted cries, and every part of me is dying to go to him. Even after everything that’s happened, every part of me wants to run to him. To comfort him. To tell him it’s all going to be okay.
Every part, except one.
So, instead of giving in to the urgings of my heart, I follow my brain, setting my lips in a hard line. Nodding once, I turn my eyes to the street in front of me.
“I hope you two are very happy,” I say, climbing into my car and slamming the door behind me.
And somehow, by some miracle, I manage to make it around the block before breaking down.
21
Mason
I watch as Maddy’s car pulls away from the curb, my body still refusing to cooperate.
Move, you idiot. Go after her. Tell her this isn’t what it seems.
Except … it is.
I lied to her.
I left out the biggest detail of my past because I was too scared of what it might do to us.
If Maddy had known I was still married to Stephanie, she never would’ve allowed herself to be with me. Never would have allowed what happened between us to happen.
She never would have loved me.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it from her forever. That there would come a day when I would have to sit her down and explain the steps I needed to take before we could truly start the rest of our lives together. There was only one path I saw our relationship taking, and in order for it to do so, I knew I’d have to track down Stephanie and initiate the divorce process.
I’d looked for Stephanie after she left me, but she’d deactivated all her social media accounts the day she walked out. None of her friends would tell me where she was, and truthfully, I was so overwhelmed with the loss of my marriage and the responsibility of taking care of a newborn that I gave up more quickly than I probably should have. Once the shock of it all wore off and I settled into my role as a single dad, I told myself I’d get to it. I’d eventually find Stephanie and set myself free.
It was always something I would do later. Something that I didn’t really see as all that important, considering I had no intention of ever making the same mistake again. After a few years, I had honestly stopped thinking about it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d tried searching her name on Facebook or Instagram.
But then Maddy Woods walked back into my life, taking everything I’d thought I wanted and turning it on its axis.
Of course, by the time I realized I’d fallen for her, it was too late to come clean about Stephanie. At that point, I felt our relationship was still too new, too fragile—especially seeing how just finding a picture of Stephanie upset her—that I didn’t dare even broach the subject.
I just need more time. I need to make sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that she realizes how much I love her. That Stephanie means nothing to me. That this whole marriage thing is just a minor technicality. It means nothing to me.
I repeated the same excuses to myself over and over whenever the guilt over not being completely honest with Maddy started eating at me. I told myself that I was doing it for her own benefit.
But it was a lie.
Not telling Maddy didn’t benefit anybody. No, it only served to make my life a little simpler at the time. I thought I’d be able to fix a major gash in our relationship by slapping a flimsy Band-Aid over it. I should’ve known that, sooner or later, the truth would seep out.
I watch as Maddy’s car turns off my street, my knees nearly giving out on the sidewalk as it does so.
I’m not sure how long I stand here, staring desperately down to the end of the street, as if hope alone could will her back. Maybe if I wished for it hard enough, Maddy’s car would somehow turn around, driving her back to me and into my arms. I’d run to her, and she’d fling herself at me, both of us repeating over and over how nothing else even mattered. Just the two of us.
But Maddy’s car doesn’t come back into sight, and it’s as if my heart can feel the farther away she gets, the ache growing larger and larger with every passing second she’s gone.
Somehow, I manage to slog across my yard, my feet moving on autopilot as I ascend my porch steps. Hope barks when I push open the door, and I look up to see Stephanie bent over, gently patting her on the head.
“You know,” she says, her eyes lifting from Hope to me, “I’m not really much of a dog person. But this one is sort of cute. If it’ll make you and the baby happy, it can stay.”
I’m not sure if it’s the sight of her touching my dog or the way she refers to our five-year-old daughter as the baby, as if the last few years hadn’t even happened, but suddenly, I can no longer control the fury I felt when she waltzed past my front door and into my home.
“You need to leave,” I seethe, my jaw clenched tight as I spit the words through my teeth.
Stephanie’s hand stills, and I see her face pinch in anger as she stands. “What did you say?”
“Get out, Stephanie,” I repeat, rage burning in my gut. “Get the fuck out.”
Stephanie’s shoulders square off, her chest puffing out and her chin lifting haughtily. It’s a move I’ve seen her make countless times before. Stephanie Harris’s power stance.
“You can’t kick me out of my own house, Mason,” she snaps.
A laugh barks out past my lips. “Your house? This hasn’t been your house in over five years, Stephanie.”
“My name is on the mortgage.”
I shake my head, a proud smile spreading across my face. I might have made a lot of mistakes as far as the ending of my relationship with Stephanie is concerned. But there is one thing I had the foresight to do.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I refinanced the loan a few years ago. You no longer have any stake in this house.”
Her eyes flash. “You can’t do that!”
“I already did,” I say with a shrug. “Now, get the fuck off my property before I call the police.”
Seeing that her leverage has been lost, Stephanie decides to deploy a different tactic. Her body relaxes, her lips pouting out into a plump pucker. She starts toward me, her hips swaying sensually with every movement.
“Mason, baby, let’s not fight. I’m home now. We can be a family again. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she says, trailing a finger down my chest when she reaches me.
Back when we were together, the movement never failed to send a shiver down my spine, my hand always coming up to grab hers as my other arm snaked around her waist and yanked her against me.
Now …
Now, all I want is to get her filthy hands off of me before they taint the memory of Maddy’s.
I reach up and roughly grab her hand, and she grins as I do.
“I see some things never change,” she says as she takes a step into me.
Only this time, instead of pulling her against me, I shove her away, sending her stumbling backward on her ridiculous heels
.
“You’re right. Some things never change. Like you being a completely self-absorbed bitch. So, let me say this in a way that might get through all that hair. I. Do. Not. Want. You,” I say, punctuating each word, my tone growing louder and louder until I’m shouting the final syllable.
“But, Mason—” she starts, but I throw up a hand.
“I’m not going to tell you again.”
Stephanie’s face screws up into a pissed off sneer. She reaches down to grab the purse she dropped next to the sofa when she invaded my home, storming off toward the door.
She flings it open, spinning around and glaring at me. “This isn’t over, Mason. I have the right to see my daughter.”
The mere mention of Hannah has me flying across the room, my face coming to a halt only inches from hers.
“If you even think for a second that I’m going to let you anywhere near her, you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”
“You can’t keep me from her,” she retorts, but there’s less conviction in her tone now that I’m right next to her and not across the room. “I’ll get a lawyer.”
I shake my head, taking a step back and pulling the door from her grasp. “I’d like to see you try. You forget, sweetie,” I say, acid pouring from my voice at the term of endearment, “you were gone for over five years. You walked away from your infant daughter without so much as a backward glance. Meanwhile, I’ve been here, raising Hannah to be a happy and well-adjusted little girl. And I have dozens of people who can attest to that. Tell me, how many character witnesses do you have who would have anything to say other than you’re a heinous bitch?”
Stephanie gapes up at me, and I can see from the look in her eyes that she knows she’s lost. I start to close the door with her still in its path, the movement forcing her to step outside. Right before I slam it shut, I give her one final look.
“I feel sorry for you, Stephanie. It must be miserable, living such a loveless life.”
I swing the door shut, but my hand reaches out to stop it when one more thought occurs to me.
“Oh, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer by the end of the week. I suggest you stick around long enough to sign those divorce papers. You won’t be happy if I have to track your ass down.”