Mason hadn’t wanted to come to Dr. Slade McKinney’s place, but Dawson wouldn’t take no for an answer. Which pretty much explained how Dawson had become the top lawyer in Pine Valley. He knew how to get his way.
“If Slade gets to know you, he’ll drop his grudge,” Dawson had said while Mason sat with him at the sports grill, eating barbeque sandwiches and watching the football game.
Mason hadn’t answered.
“Slade will see you aren’t out to steal his woman,” Dawson persisted, “and you can bond over chips and pigskin.”
Mason had wondered briefly what Dawson might say if Mason told him he’d already “stolen his woman.”
But now, seeing Livvy walk into Slade’s living room, Mason wondered if the joke was on him.
He couldn’t help but stare. Mostly because it was so unexpected, and also because Livvy looked like she’d seen a ghost. Well, Mason felt the same way.
The brunette next to Livvy was a mirror image to Slade, and it wasn’t a feat to discern that she was Slade’s sister. She was also a chatterbox. She introduced herself as Jessica, first to Dawson, then she crossed to Mason and stuck out her hand. “I’m so excited to meet you,” she gushed. “I’m not much of a reader, but I so respect your profession.”
“I read,” Ben said from the couch, lifting his hand and giving a little wave.
His wife smiled benignly at him. “I don’t think Sports Illustrated counts, dear.”
Ben chuckled.
Jessica once again cast her green-eyed gaze upon Mason. “So, have you met Sarah and Liv?”
Mason swallowed. He had yet to say one word.
“Of course he’s met them,” Slade said, having risen from his perch on the other end of the couch.
Mason watched as the doc moved to Livvy’s side and slipped his arm about her waist. “Liv works at the library, and she’s actually a big fan of thrillers, right, sweetheart?”
It was like a train wreck, and Mason couldn’t look away as Slade leaned down and kissed Livvy’s cheek. Her face stained red, and Mason didn’t know if she was embarrassed about the public affection, or the fact that Mason was there to witness it.
On one hand, Mason was not naïve. He’d known almost from day one that Livvy had a boyfriend. And no matter what he might or might not have assumed, she’d never actually come out and said she’d broken up with Slade.
So. Mason slipped his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Jolene. Call me ASAP.
Jessica settled on the couch next to her husband, which put her in close proximity to Mason. “We hear that you’re writing a book right now. What’s it about?”
Mason’s stomach flipped. “I, uh, don’t really discuss works in progress. One of those weird writer quirks.”
Jessica leaned closer and tapped a fake nail on his knee. “I won’t say a thing. I mean, who would I tell anyway?”
Mason wondered if it would be rude to just walk out of the room. His phone rang, and he’d never heard a better sound in his life. He pulled it out of his pocket. “It’s my agent. I’d better get this.”
He rose to his feet, feeling Jessica’s eyes on him. Livvy’s eyes. Slade’s. Dawson’s.
“Hi, Jolene,” he said into the phone as he strode toward the kitchen.
“Is everything okay?” Jolene said, worry in her voice.
“Yes, but I’ll have to find a quieter place to talk. Hang on.” He met Dawson’s gaze. “Sorry, man. I’ve got to run.” He looked to Slade, while at the same time he avoided meeting Livvy’s eyes. “Thanks for the invite. Sorry I have to ditch.”
He opened the door and walked out before the others could finish their goodbyes and good wishes. “Thank you,” he said into the phone. “I think you saved my life.”
“Mason, this isn’t funny. What’s going on?” Jolene did sound put out.
“Too complicated to explain,” Mason said. “But happy Thanksgiving to you. I’ll talk to you Friday, and I’ll have a lot of writing news to report.”
Jolene exhaled. “Fine. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. Next time don’t give me a heart attack.”
Mason chuckled. “Deal.” He hung up with Jolene and trudged through the snow to his Jeep. He was doubly glad he’d insisted on following Dawson’s truck over to the condo complex. It sure made it convenient to escape.
The snow was coming down good, and Dawson slowed his step as he passed by a red Honda. Livvy’s. Most of it was covered by snow, and his first instinct was to tell her she shouldn’t wait much longer to drive home. But he stifled that as soon as he thought it. Livvy wasn’t his business anymore. He’d been a distraction, that was it.
Besides, by the looks of things, he wouldn’t be surprised if Livvy spent the night at Slade’s. She wouldn’t have to drive at all. Surely the doctor had a fancy SUV of some sort.
Mason kicked at the pile of snow that had accumulated in front of his Jeep, then he set to swiping off the snow from the windows. The cold stung his hands, and he decided it felt good. He needed something to bite sense into him.
How had he let himself become so caught up in Livvy? How had he let his heart get away from him? Even now, he knew that if she came running out the door, he’d take her into his arms. He couldn’t allow that. Words could deceive, but his very own eyes didn’t lie.
Livvy might have been embarrassed that Mason had caught her with Slade. But Mason had seen enough in Slade’s eyes to know that the doctor had intentions for Livvy. He wasn’t going to let her get away. The stakes had been raised with Mason’s arrival in Pine Valley. And Slade was up to the task.
Okay then. Mason yanked open the driver’s door and hopped into his Jeep.
It was time to stop delaying on his book. Time to demand more from his muse and work her overtime. Time to ignore the cracking of his heart. Time to stop wallowing in the stress of the lawsuit. Mason had been found innocent, and Teddy guilty. Case closed.
Mason needed to close his heart and finish the damn book.
Once back at the cabin he decided the place was too quiet, and he flipped on lights, then synched his playlist to the Bluetooth speaker. Music and lights would be a distraction. He silences his phone and plugged it into a charger on the counter, face down so that if a certain person called or texted, he’d be oblivious. Next he grabbed his notebook, booted up his laptop at the kitchen island, and set to work.
Like he expected, the first paragraphs were painful, but then he got into a rhythm. He was typing too, not drafting by hand. Unlike in Mason’s life, Pilot’s girlfriend would stick around. She’d be the one to get him through the lowest of the lows. She’d see more in Pilot than he could see in himself. She’d stage an intervention, and she would be there every step of the way in his healing journey.
By the time Mason finished the intervention scene, his eyes were stinging with tears. He took a couple of deep breaths, saved the manuscript, then began the next scene, where the villain would begin his campaign to blackmail Pilot for everything he had. The words nearly typed themselves, and Mason had always found it ironic that when he wrote from the villain’s point of view, the scenes unfolded like an intricate map.
It was the heroes who always pushed back. And the women. But women were always a different story.
Finally Mason knew he had to stop and take a break. Use the bathroom, get a drink, stretch his aching shoulders and neck. He downed a couple of ibuprofen before he checked his cell. The first thing he noticed was that it was 1:30 a.m. The second thing, Livvy had called three times.
No texts.
He stared at the Missed Calls icon listed by her name in his call log.
She hadn’t left any messages. He hadn’t even expected her to call. Maybe a text with an apology or Can we talk?
But when all was said and done, Livvy was a good person, a decent person. And an infuriating woman.
Mason slammed the phone on the counter, then immediately checked to make sure he hadn’t cracked the screen. Apparently his cell phone was more resilient than his heart. He turned on the sound and decided if she called again, he’d answer. Might as well get the conversation over, and not that he felt like he owed her a conversation, but he knew on a psychological level closure was a good thing in the long run.
He walked to the couch in the great room, phone in hand, and sank onto the smooth leather. He let his head drop back against the cushion with a sigh. He’d known it was too good to be true, right from the beginning. Even when she’d kissed him in the library the first time, he hadn’t let himself believe that there was a future for them. That he deserved more than he already had.
Sure, other people had relationships, and many of them the proverbial Happily Ever After. But that had never been his aim in life. Pilot would get his happy ending. And all of the heroes he had yet to write about would get theirs as well. That would be enough for Mason.
He picked up the phone. Livvy hadn’t called back a fourth time. Even she had her limits, it seemed. Mason watched the time change on his phone.
1:42. 1:43.
He pressed Livvy’s contact number. It rang once, then twice.
“Mason,” she said into the phone. Her voice was thick with sleep, or had she been crying?
Mason’s heart cracked a little more. “Hi.”
“Thank you for calling me back,” she said, her voice trembling.
Mason closed his eyes.
“Do you hate me?” she asked in a soft tone.
“I don’t hate you,” Mason said. And he realized he didn’t. He couldn’t.
“You probably won’t believe me,” she said, her hesitation evident, “and I don’t deserve for you to believe me, but I went over to Slade’s tonight to break up with him. Officially. I mean, I’ve been avoiding him since, well, since we’ve been together. Last week he invited me to Thanksgiving, and I accepted, thinking that maybe I’d know by then what was really going on with you and me. So I showed up there hoping he was home and not at the hospital . . .”
She continued to explain how the door had opened before she could make her escape and how she’d been drawn into the condo, then faced with meeting Slade’s family for the first time. Mason could see it all playing out in his mind. Heck, he’d been there for some of it. And it was a pretty convincing story. True, sure. But that wasn’t the point of what this conversation was going to be about.
“He cares about you, Livvy,” Mason said in a tight tone when her words had run out. “I could see that tonight, and even though I still think he’s an idiot, you two make a good pair.”
“Is that what you really think, Mason?” The hurt was evident in her tone.
“I’m just calling it like I see it,” he said. “Besides, he’s a doctor. You know, your fantasy.” It was a low blow, and Mason regretted it the second he spoke.
“Screw you, Mason Rowe,” she said in a fierce whisper.
Her anger was good, and he was happy she was angry, because he was angry too. And it would make all this easier. “I think it’s better that we both admit this thing between us was a distraction, temporary... and agree to no hard feelings on either side.”
Livvy didn’t say anything.
“Go to Thanksgiving with his family,” Mason said. “Figure out what you want.”
“I hate this.”
Mason couldn’t agree more. “You’re a smart woman, and I wish you all the best.”
“Mason . . .”
He waited, but when she didn’t say anything more, he said, “Goodbye, Livvy Harmon,” then hung up.
It was over.