Chapter Seventeen
Cassidy woke up on Lexie’s bed. There was a blanket over her, which meant that Mason must have come in and found her there. She sat up, troubled and disappointed. It felt as though she’d arrived at a decision while she slept. Something she wasn’t quite aware of yet.
The alarm clock on the dresser said 6:32 AM. Lexie lay asleep on the pillow, the room full of the sound of her soft breathing.
Then the horror of the day before came back to Cassidy, and she got up from the bed.
In slow motion, she replayed the paparazzi crowding around her and Lexie, clicking and shouting, all those black impersonal camera lenses pointing down at them. She felt Lexie collapsing all over again and heard her frightened sobs.
A crushing sense of loss came over her. Grief clenched her stomach like a fist. She ran to the bathroom and hung her face over the toilet. Nothing came up. But in that moment of violent heaving, she knew. There was only one way to protect Lexie. She had to leave. Now. Before Mason woke up and talked her out of it.
She sprang into action, grabbing Lexie’s things and shoving them into the carry-on. The quieter she tried to be, the more noise she made and the more she fumbled. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She had no idea how to get back to Cuervo. Changing tickets cost money.
Her stomach gave another lurch, but she kept going. All that mattered was getting out of here before Mason woke up. If she saw him, her resolve would fall apart. She would fall apart. Then she wouldn’t be of use to anybody, not even herself.
The enormity of what she was doing hit her hard. She sank onto the bed, sick and trembling. If she left, Mason would never forgive her. That would be it between them. But she had to do the right thing by her daughter. She had to go now while she still had the strength.
Conscience pulled at her. It wasn’t right to just run away like this without apologizing. She should leave a note. Something explaining how much she loved him but how it would never work. She and Lexie weren’t cut out to be famous, not even by association.
Rummaging through Lexie’s backpack, she found a piece of notebook paper and a marker. She wrote everything down as it came to her, but the letters were shaky and the words bled all over the page.
Before she could change her mind, she slid the note across the table and then anchored it with her phone. The phone that didn’t belong to her. Her last link to Mason. For a second she hesitated, stroking the black glass, her chest aching with unshed tears. She understood that she would never love anyone like this again. Not like she loved Mason. Some women were just built that way. They loved one man with every cell in their bodies, and that was it. There was nothing left after that.
She would raise Lexie alone as she always had. Grow old alone. Eventually, she would turn into Mrs. Felps from across the street, rattling around in a house that was too big for her, haunted by the memories and the ghosts.
The breath had gone out of what once was beautiful. Yet being a mom meant doing what was right for her daughter, not for herself. She had to keep telling herself that or she wouldn’t have the courage. She had to keep moving or she would start crying and never stop.
Cassidy waited until a numbness settled into her bones. Then she turned to wake her sleeping daughter.
* * * *
The house was eerily quiet.
Mason rubbed his eyes and focused them on the alarm clock. 7:16 AM. Judging by the tucked sheets on the other side of the bed, Cassidy had never made it to his room last night. He shoved aside a twinge of worry. It didn’t mean anything. She’d fallen asleep with Lexie and decided to stay with her. So what? He would shower and shave and maybe surprise them with breakfast. That would give him something to do until they woke up. Maybe he wouldn’t spend the whole time pushing against this persistent sense of dread.
But it continued to gnaw at him, the idea that the house just seemed empty, as if its heart and lungs had stopped working. He showered, ran the electric razor over his face, threw on some clothes and then walked softly down the hall. No point in waking them just yet. After the disaster of yesterday, it made sense that Cassidy and Lexie might want to sleep.
He went to the kitchen and looked around. It had been a long time since he’d cooked anything in here. Saturdays were Keiko’s day off. Hell, he didn’t even know where she kept the pots and pans.
Gently, he opened and closed cupboards and drawers until he found what he was looking for. After a few minutes, the big Tuscan-inspired kitchen was full of the mouthwatering smells of bacon, eggs and toast—the extent of his domestic abilities, but he took pride in them. Still no Cassidy. It puzzled him because smells like these would normally wake the dead.
He found a tray, stuffed two strips of crisp bacon in his mouth and then arranged six more on a plate with the eggs. He’d never served anyone breakfast in bed before. He took the tray down the hall and knocked. After a few seconds, he knocked again. No sounds came from inside the room, and all of a sudden, like a roaring in his ears, the silence of the house just deafened him.
He opened the door. Cassidy and Lexie were gone. The bed had been made as though they’d never been there at all. He saw a note and her phone on the table, but didn’t have to read the note to know what it said: It’s over. I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.
Mason went back to the kitchen. He set the tray down. It felt like his chest was split open. His hands were cold, but he rubbed his chest anyway, trying to get the pain to stop. Instead of a heart, it felt like he had razor wire there now.
He sat heavily on a bar stool, the life sucked out of him, and wondered how far they’d managed to get. Would Cassidy have gone to the airport and tried to change her ticket? It was hard to think when you couldn’t breathe and your stomach churned like a rat wheel. What had happened wasn’t fair. It was bullshit. She wouldn’t have left if it weren’t for the goddamn paparazzi. Why didn’t she at least talk to him about it? Why up and fucking leave?
Fury surged through him, sending shock waves through his skin, his nerves, his muscles. With a bellow of rage, he picked up the tray and hurled it across the room. Glass shattered. Food dripped down the wall. He grabbed a wooden bar stool and pounded it on the marble countertop. One leg snapped off and went flying. He swept everything off the kitchen island and sent it crashing to the floor. Every cup, very plate, every piece of furniture became a stand-in for what he wanted to do to the paparazzi. All those greedy fucking faces. All those fucking cameras and stupid questions. They’d taken everything that mattered to him. They’d ruined his life. They’d broken his goddamn heart.
He lifted a metal kitchen chair over his head, ready to crack it to pieces.
The door opened. Ruth stood gaping at the destruction.
She said, “Have you lost your damn mind?”
* * * *
In the light of late afternoon, Cuervo looked tired and a little forlorn. Cassidy pressed her burning forehead against the window of Darlene’s car and watched landmarks flash by that had been familiar to her since birth—the sun glinting through the old Methodist church belfry. The split-log fence. Giant hay bales sitting in the middle of lonely fields. It felt as though she were watching a movie screen, one showing a life she’d left behind and wasn’t meant to return to yet. Not with Lexie sitting in the backseat and Darlene driving and no one saying a word.
It had cost her fifty dollars per ticket to change their flight and another twelve in buses and airport shuttles to get here. When she’d called Darlene from Victoria Regional, asking if she could pick them up, she could barely get the words out. Darlene didn’t ask for details. She just came and got them, hoisted their bags into the trunk and brought them home.
Everything inside Cassidy had turned to stone. She could feel the coldness stealing over her, claiming her one organ at a time. Only her brain had any life left as it sifted feverishly through the million things she could have done better, different, never. Every time she thought about Mason finding her note and realizing what a disgusting coward she was, the bottom fell out of her stomach all over again
When Darlene pulled her Buick up the back driveway instead of parking it in front, Cassidy was conscious of some relief. The fewer people who knew she’d come back early, the better. Lexie got out, took the keys, and went straight up to the house. Muffins mewed plaintively from inside.
Cassidy’s limbs didn’t feel like they were hers anymore, but she dragged the backpack, the carry-on and her purse out of the trunk and then slammed the lid. Darlene stood beside her and watched.
“Whenever—if ever—you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here,” Darlene said. She gave Cassidy a hug, got in her car, and backed out of the driveway.
Cassidy bore the full weight of her aloneness now. She looked up, praying that she would make it. A flock of geese formed a dark, winged V against an orange-red sky. Cuervo was settling into winter, but no matter what the weather was, this awful, bone-deep coldness would still be inside of her.
At first, she thought maybe the numbness was there to help. But now Cassidy knew it for what it was: a price. She had to pay the price or her ability to function after the amputation of all that was real and warm and human inside her would vanish. If she wanted the strength to walk up those steps, this was what she had to do to get there.
She fed Muffins the rest of the wet food that April had left and then cooked supper. Lexie sat listlessly in front of the television. They ate, and because Cassidy could feel one of her headaches coming on, she went and lay down in the den. After about an hour, Lexie came in to be with her. She sat at the end of the couch by her feet.
“Does your head hurt?” Lexie asked. “Do you want me to get the aspirin bottle?”
“No, I’m all right,” Cassidy told her.
“Can I ask you something?”
Cassidy waited. The sound of a television commercial drilled mercilessly into her from the next room.
In a small voice, Lexie said, “Are you and Mr. Mason breaking up?”
Cassidy didn’t know how to respond to that. How did you explain these things to a child? “Yes,” she said finally. “We broke up.”
Lexie went quiet. She traced the pattern of the couch fabric with one finger. “Is it because of me? Because of what happened?”
Of all the questions Lexie might have asked, that was the question Cassidy felt the least prepared to answer. She didn’t know how to tell Lexie the truth without making it seem that the breakup was her fault.
Cassidy sat up and took Lexie’s hand. “As your mom, it’s my job to protect you. What happened in Dallas… I can’t let that happen to you again. And I feel guilty for ever letting it happen in the first place.”
“But I really liked Mr. Mason.”
“I liked him, too.” The words nearly choked her. Her temples throbbed. “But sometimes just liking a person isn’t enough.”
“So we can’t go to Dallas anymore, can we?” Lexie asked. “I never got to swim in his pool.”
Cassidy stroked her daughter’s soft hand, feeling its smallness. How did you explain to a nine-year-old child about the love between a man and a woman? The terrible hurt people sometimes inflicted without even meaning to? “I don’t want you growing up under a spotlight,” she said. “I don’t want a camera in our faces every time we go to the store. It’s not healthy.”
“But won’t Mr. Mason be lonely without us?”
For a few seconds, it felt as though her heart had stopped. It had never occurred to her that someone as handsome and charming and loved as Mason could be lonely. What if being trapped inside the bright, unblinking light of fame did that to you? What was she saying by abandoning him—that she loved him only so much and no more? That if only his life were normal, he might be an acceptable partner? A hot wave of guilt surged through her.
“Honey, don’t you remember what happened when the press people found us? Don’t you remember how upset you were?”
Lexie gave a tiny shrug. “I hated them. I wanted to run away.”
“Exactly.”
“But I’m confused.”
Cassidy put her arm around her daughter and pulled her close. “What about?”
“I want to run away from school sometimes. Does that mean that school is bad and I shouldn’t go anymore?”
Now Cassidy was the one who felt confused. Worse, she was beginning to think that maybe she and Lexie didn’t see things the same way. It alarmed her greatly. More than she would have imagined. What if she’d made this huge sacrifice, all in the name of doing the right thing by Lexie, only to find out her own daughter thought less of her for it?
Lexie glanced up at her. “It’s like with my reading. You’re always telling me that even though it’s hard, I shouldn’t quit. That quitting’s wrong.”
“It is wrong.”
The frown on Lexie’s face gave Cassidy a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Then how come you quit on Mr. Mason?”
* * * *
“Mr. Mason! Mr. Mason! Watch me—I’m gonna do a cannonball!”
Mason tore his gaze away from the soda bottle he kept twisting mindlessly in his hand and tried focusing on Terrence instead. His attention kept going in and out, and it was starting to bug him. He just couldn’t control his thoughts. Here he was surrounded by kids and chaperones and a few adults he’d been introduced to but whose names he’d forgotten already. All he could think about was how Cassidy and Lexie should have been here. He’d hosted this event for Terrence, but he’d also hosted it for them. And now they were gone.
What had started out as a lunchtime swim party with pizza delivery was stretching into a late afternoon swim party with more pizza delivery. Now the sun was going down. Mason had never seen so many kids play for so many hours without dropping. They didn’t even care that the water was cold and the temperature outside was in the sixties.
There were about thirty of them, all proudly bearing swim school certificates, and they were everywhere at once. Even Ruth was laughing and having a good time when she wasn’t throwing curious glances his way. Guess she’d never seen him this much of a mess before.
Terrence jumped, tucked, and cannonballed, splashing cold water all over Mason in the deck chair. That started the other kids on a rampage of copycat cannonballs. The pool area was soaked. Several broken pool noodles drifted aimlessly on the water. Every time a kid flew down the rock slide, an avalanche of water blasted everyone within a twenty-foot radius.
Mason knew if he hadn’t been such a self-pitying asshole, he would have loved every minute of it. What could be more fun than watching a bunch of kids enjoy his pool?
For the hundredth time since this morning, he wondered what he might have done to keep Cassidy from leaving. He couldn’t drag his thoughts away from the empty room, the carefully made bed, the folded towels. He should have done a better job of preparing her for the paparazzi. Shown her how to behave when the cameras were rolling. What to say to Lexie. But would that have been enough to make a difference?
The truth was, he was angry at Cassidy. Instead of staying and working things out together, she’d just bailed. He couldn’t get over it. How could a woman say she loved you and then just go and fucking do that?
“Mr. Mason, didja see my cannonball?” Terrence got out of the pool, grabbed a towel, and then sat next to him, dripping.
“Best cannonball of the day,” Mason said. “I’m pretty sure you watered the front lawn.”
“I got a business now,” Terrence confided to him, man-to-man. “Gonna make a lot of money. Just like you.”
“Yeah?”
“Halloween candy. Gotta bunch of it this year. So instead of eating the candy myself, I sell it. Two dollars for Reese’s Pieces. Three dollars for Skittles. Fifty cents for candy corn.”
Mason pictured Terrence working the lunch tables at school, pockets bulging. “Why only fifty cents?”
“Nobody likes candy corn, man. You know that. Hey, this one girl offered me five dollars for a full-sized Snicker’s. I’m saving up to buy me a house, just like this one.”
They sat looking at the other kids. When the pool lights switched on, everyone cheered. “So Ms. Mankie told you about me, right?” Terrence knuckled water out of one eye. His fingers were pruned. Droplets clung to his hair.
Mason made an effort to remember who Ms. Mankie was. It felt like his brain was made of sawdust. Ms. Mankie was the one with the lipstick and the glasses, right?
“I had to take swim class twice,” Terrence told him.
“What do you mean, twice?”
“First time around, no way I was getting in that pool. Water’s scary. My friend Dwight said sharks can come up through the drain hole at the bottom.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much. Sharks don’t like chlorine.”
“See, that’s what’s cool about your pool. It kind of goes all around and there’s no deep end except that part under the slide.”
Mason leaned back in his deck chair. He unscrewed the top of his soda, took a slug, and then capped it again. “They call it a lazy river.”
“I don’t know about lazy, on account of me having to work real hard to get my swim license.”
Swim license. How cute was this kid? “You should think about becoming a sports agent, Terrence. They make tons of money.”
Yet for some reason, Mason couldn’t get it out of his head, the idea of little Terrence with his round face and solemn brown eyes overcoming a fear of water. Mason knew he wasn’t an expert on child psychology, but to a kid, real and imaginary were pretty much the same thing, weren’t they? If Terrence thought there were sharks, there were sharks.
But if Terrence could conquer his fear of water, why couldn’t a girl like Lexie learn to manage a pack of loser paparazzi?
Mason rubbed the dull ache in his chest where his heart used to be. Of course, there was no way to find out now that Cassidy had just said to hell with it, fuck you, Mason, and run home.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, the kids were finally tapped out. Bodies were everywhere. The entire backyard looked like a Civil War reenactment.
Before Terrence got on the bus going home, he shook Mason’s hand. “I’m going to have my birthday party here. You’re invited,” he said.
Mason couldn’t hold back a grin. “Thanks. I accept your invitation.”
“We’re cool then.” Terrence climbed the bus stairs that looked half as tall as he was, followed by a trail of soggy kids. Their chaperone, whose name Mason still couldn’t remember, shook his hand, then Ruth’s, and then his again. “We just can’t thank you enough,” she said.
Mason stood beside Ruth and waved goodbye as the bus drove away. The place seemed depressingly quiet again. Whatever ground he’d gained during Terrence’s visit suddenly evaporated, and now he was left with all his hurt, angry feelings.
Ruth turned to him with her usual brisk efficiency. “Ready to tackle the kitchen?”
“No, you go on. I’ll do it.”
He started toward the house, but she blocked him, her pink cardigan drawn tightly around her shoulders like a shield. “Stop,” she said. “Just stop.”
Annoyed, Mason said, “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know you anymore.”
He marched around her and then into the kitchen. “Goddammit, Ruth. I’m in no mood for games.”
“Then why are you playing them?” She stalked after him. “You’ve been sulking all day, feeling sorry for yourself. This isn’t the Mason I know.”
Mason found a trash can under the sink and started chucking shards of ceramic plate into it. “Is that right? Well, there’s a lot you don’t know.”
“Cassidy left you, didn’t she?”
He paused long enough to glare at her.
Ruth sighed. She grabbed a broom, jabbed it in a glass-filled corner, and then swept the glass into a pile. “It’s none of my business, of course, but may I ask why you’re not going after her?”
“She left me, remember? I dunno—are you supposed to go after someone who leaves you?”
Ruth stopped sweeping. “Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you fight for the woman you love?”
Mason stood looking at her, and for the first time since Cassidy had left, he thought maybe he wasn’t completely in the right on this.
“That little girl is her world, Mason. You know that. Cassidy did what she had to do. She did what was best for her daughter. She didn’t leave you. She protected her child.”
Mason crossed his arms. Ruth was making a lot of sense, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it yet. “How do you know?”
“About what? Her feelings for you?” Ruth rolled her eyes and started sweeping again. “A blind man could see what you two have. Most people would kill for it.”
“I don’t even know if I can trust her anymore,” he muttered darkly.
“Trust her? Okay, now I know you’ve lost your damn mind. Look how many times that woman had to swallow her pride and trust you, you big galoot!” Scowling, Ruth herded half a plate in his direction with the broom. “Men. I swear. You should hear yourselves talk sometimes. You’re like a bunch of lunatics on day pass.”
Mason seized the broken plate and threw it in the trash. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. I can’t make Cassidy change her mind about bringing her daughter here.”
“Why not?” Ruth said fiercely. “The Mason I know would never have given up in the first quarter of the game. He would have fought for what he wanted. He would have fought until the whole field was covered in blood.”
Mason winced. His heart felt like someone had shot it full of lead. “Yeah, well, that Mason is a dumbass.”
If looks could kill, the one Ruth launched at him from across the kitchen would melt the skin off his bones. “I gotta tell you,” she said, “I liked that Mason a whole lot better than the pathetic whiner right in front of me.”
He lifted the trash bag out of the can, spun it and then knotted it closed. I need time, he thought resentfully. With enough time and distance, maybe someday I can see this clearly.