Truths
like, Mason knew her well enough to know how many cups of coffee she needed
before she could function. He paid close enough attention to know their
favorite Chinese place by heart. He understood little remarks other men, who’d
spent twice as long with their partners, would miss. When it mattered, Mason
didn’t roll over and quit—he fought for what he wanted.
Unlike
Lisa’s husband, who wasn’t so in love with her he took her everywhere. Tom was
a puppet, too weak to stand on his own, content to let his wife lead him around
by the nose. And Don and Marie—while Kirstin enjoyed them immensely, they
didn’t have the happy marriage Lisa alluded to. Marie was in it for the money.
Don stayed because she made the perfect trophy wife.
Kirstin’s
heart beat faster as the depths of her wrongs surfaced. Mason hadn’t changed.
He hadn’t done one damn thing wrong.
She
had. His failing to come to bed
with her happened every time she burned the midnight oil on a project. He’d
done the same thing when she was taking classes. The same. Damn. Thing. So she
could sleep. Because he wouldn’t wake her up if she was out, and Mason couldn’t
ignore the fact she slept in the nude.
Oh,
God. Her throat cinched tight.
After
failing to appear for his presentation tonight, she didn’t think she could
disappoint him further. And yet, she had. Even if he didn’t know it, she’d been
disappointing him for the last year. Looking for faults that didn’t exist.
Blowing them up with her imagination.
Expecting
him to be something he wasn’t, when she’d fallen in love with the way he was.
Yes, he should have told her about Lisa’s proposition. But that was Mason. See
a problem, fix it. No need to dwell, no need for drama. Solution found, move
on.
And
the leaving her to herself at events…well… yeah…that he pretty much sucked at.
But she wasn’t as miserable as Lisa convinced her she ought to be. Even if she
didn’t have many people to talk to, the pride she felt over Mason’s success
overruled all her discomfort. Two, maybe three nights a year, she had to fend
for herself in an uncomfortable situation. Big damn deal.
Tears
rolled down her cheeks, the reality of how unfair she’d been to him hitting her
square in the belly. How did she make up for that kind of wrong? How did she
confess her screw-ups without hurting him more?
All
he’d wanted was an explanation. No wonder he didn’t understand. She’d held him
to a different standard than the one they’d agreed on when they went on their
first date and she’d made love to him in that perfectly horrible chair.
While
she’d been condemning him, he’d been planning to propose.
A sob
wrenched free, and Kirstin huddled into the arm of the leather recliner. She
didn’t know how to apologize for this degree of betrayal. Mason should have
walked out on her, not the other way around.
****
Mason
opened his eyes to find the pillow beside him empty. He inched onto one elbow,
and glanced around the dark bedroom. When he didn’t spy light seeping beneath
the master bathroom door, he felt the sheets beside him. The cool cloth sent
his pulse into staccato rhythm.
She
couldn’t have left.
Though
he longed to believe Kirstin wouldn’t run away in the middle of the night, the
gut-deep fear that he’d lost her refused to let him. She’d been on the verge of
walking out the door when desperation drove him to kiss her. Passion and
mind-numbing orgasms didn’t necessarily change anything. Their problems had
never been in the bedroom.
Dreading
the emptiness he knew he’d find, he slid out of bed to explore the house. Maybe
she’d gone for a glass of water. Was rummaging now for something to eat.
He
yanked on a pair of clean boxers and flipped the light on in the hallway.
Silence descended around him, not the sound of running water, closing
cupboards, or the general rustle of someone milling through the kitchen. He
took a deep breath, ground his teeth together. If she’d left in the middle of
the night, without so much as a goodbye, first thing tomorrow morning he’d drag
her out of Sam’s basement and tell her how to find the quickest road to hell.
Yeah,
right. Like he’d be capable of that.
Grimacing,
Mason trudged toward the lighted living room with a silent prayer that he’d
find her sitting at the table immersed in a bowl of cereal.
Halfway
to his destination, the soft sounds of crying wafted to his ears. He winced,
the pitiful sobs like daggers to his heart. Did she regret making love to him
that much? He’d thought when she agreed to go to the bedroom, they were finally
on the right track. Finally making progress.
Maybe
he’d been wrong. Maybe tonight had been Kirstin’s way of saying a final
goodbye.
He
really didn’t want to know. Half of his mind ordered him to turn around, go
back to bed, and see if he woke up alone in the morning. The other half
demanded he round that corner and confront those damning tears.
He
couldn’t run. If things were over, he’d rather deal with the pain of loss now,
not put off the inevitable.
Swallowing
down his building apprehension, he took a step forward into the light. The soft
sobs came from his left, and as he turned, his gaze fell on Kirstin. Curled up
in a ball, her shoulders shook beneath his tuxedo jacket. Her dark hair fell
around her shoulders, hiding her face. Unable to witness her grief, he went to
her and knelt in front of the leather chair. He covered her ankle with his hand.
“Baby? What’s the matter?”
She
shook her head, choked out another sob.
His
gut cinched into a tight knot. He hadn’t seen her this upset since her mother’s
death. Mason ran his hand over her calf, offering what consolation he could.
When that failed to uncurl her, he leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her
slight form, and pulled her into his lap. She tucked into his embrace, balled
fists resting against his chest.
“Kirstin,”
he whispered against her hair. “Talk to me.”
Chapter
Fifteen
As if
their roles had suddenly reversed, Kirstin wanted to tell him, but words
wouldn’t come. It was the same locked-mind syndrome that she knew tied him in
knots when he tried to express his feelings. The reason
I love you
,
coming from Mason, meant so very much.
With
her mother’s ring clutched in one hand, she curled her other into his bare
chest. His embrace tightened, lending her strength she had no right to accept.
She’d been a fool. A pitiful, whining, fool who didn’t possess the good sense
to realize what was right in front of her nose.
All
the mixed up conversations they’d had over the last year cycled through her
mind, compounding her guilt. She needed to apologize. Which meant she needed to
explain. But the idea of explaining how a client had mixed her up so badly made
her feel worse.
Mason
stroked her hair with surprising patience. As a rule, when she teared up, he
didn’t deal well with it. He tried—she couldn’t deny he made an effort. But his
own inability to find words frustrated him, and he quickly gave up. This time,
however, he seemed content to wait until she pulled herself together.
She
sniffled, trying to do just that. No matter how she wanted it to, the mess
wouldn’t resolve through silence. Sifting through the nonsensical chatter in
her head, she picked the first thought that screamed the loudest. “I heard your
speech,” she whispered.
Mason
stiffened. The hand in her hair stilled. “You did? I didn’t…see you.”
With
another sniff, Kirstin shook her head and pushed herself into a sitting
position. Using his jacket sleeves, she wiped her cheeks. “I didn’t hear all of
it. Just the end.”
“Oh,”
he answered with a faint smile.
“I’m
sorry, Mason, that I wasn’t there. I didn’t set out to hurt you or deliberately
bail on your presentation.”
To
her surprise, Mason chuckled. His smile took on more life, and he tucked a hank
of her hair behind her shoulder. “It’s okay. It sucked. I survived. You heard
the most important part.”
A
whole new set of fresh tears welled in her eyes. “What you said in front of
everyone—I don’t deserve it.”
“Of
course you do.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. In the soft
light, his expression took on more sincerity. “I didn’t say those things to
keep you from leaving. I added them to my speech, knowing you might walk away,
because they’re the truth.”
He
paused, and when he spoke next, hesitation filled his voice. “After our fight
yesterday, I realized I don’t tell you often enough how much you mean to me.
You know how hard it is for me, but that doesn’t make it okay to not try. When
I started talking…that was the one part of my speech I didn’t stumble over,
baby.”
Lord
above, knowing how much effort it took for him to spit that out sent buckets of
guilt pouring onto her shoulders. Here he sat, accepting the things she’d accused
him of, taking blame where none existed, and she had to tell him his confession
wasn’t necessary. The gathered tears spilled down her cheeks.
Mason
shifted position, adjusting her to better fit into his protective embrace. His
gaze caught hers, held it for several drawn-out heartbeats. Ever-so-slightly,
the hand at her waist tensed. “Are you upset…because of…because you want out,
and you’re afraid you’ll hurt me?”
“No.”
Though she whispered, the word rushed out.
As he
exhaled, his body relaxed, but in his next sharp draw of air, his arms
tightened so fiercely she feared her ribs might crack. She pushed on his chest
to gain breathing room. When he yielded, Kirstin spit out the embarrassing
truth. “You might want out though.”
He
gave her a look of such bewilderment, she almost laughed.
“Really?
After tonight?” He tapped the tip of her nose. “Wrong answer.”
His
humor was impossible to resist, but she ignored the tickle of laughter in her
throat and shook her head. “I’ve been so wrong. Blaming you for things that
weren’t true… Believing thoughts other people put in my head.”
Mason’s
smile faded, and a faint frown settled into his brow. “What do you mean?”
Sniffling
again, Kirstin dabbed at her eyes to stop the salty flow. It didn’t help. Her
tears fell harder, threatening to drag her into that nonsensical place where
all she could do was sob. She summoned courage, clung to it for dear life.
“Lisa said some things—”
“I
know.” His frown deepened. “I don’t know what, but I know she said something to
you.”
“She
was trying to get to you. Trying to break me down and push me away so she could
have you.” Kirstin did sob then, the humility of it all overwhelming. But she
sucked in a short breath and cut the next cry off. She’d make it through this,
spill it all. Then, when he shoved her out of his lap, she could fall apart
again.
“She
nitpicked your faults. I didn’t believe her at first, but after a while, I
started to see the things she said. That you stayed in your office too late,
that you didn’t take me out in public, that you were more attached to money and
appearances.”
Mason’s
sharp inhale cut through her brave façade. He was pissed. Seriously so. She
braced for a cutting remark.
“Kirstin.”
Low,
firm, and harsh, his voice bruised. Strong fingers settled beneath her chin,
none-too-gentle pressure forcing her to look at him. She instinctively winced.
“I
don’t give a damn about money and appearances. That—”
“I
know you don’t, she just—”
“That
bitch doesn’t have room to talk. She’s so wrapped up—”
“I
couldn’t help—” Kirstin stopped. Talking over each other wouldn’t get them
anywhere. She could defend herself when he finished.
“In
her money, she’s indecent. If I could find a way to make her body turn up on a
distant shore without going to jail for it, I would.” He took a breath,
tempering his rush of words. “I don’t need to know what she said to you. I know
you, and I know your vulnerabilities. It doesn’t entirely surprise me that she
could poison you.”
Kirstin
squeezed her eyes shut tight to block out his earnest stare. “Mason, I believed
her
over you.
I let her sway me. For God’s sake, I’ve been with you for
five years. I should be stronger than that. Doesn’t that bother you? What if it
happens again?”
****
Acknowledging
the discomfort that her questions aroused, Mason fell silent. Did it bother
him? Hell yeah. Kirstin was absolutely right in the fact she should have known
better. For that matter, she should have done the very thing she’d ripped into
him about—told him the minute Lisa spewed her first bits of venom. It damn well
could happen again, and they might end up right back here once more.
But
pounding her with more guilt wouldn’t accomplish anything. Her confession cut,
but not deeply enough he bled. Still, he wouldn’t disguise the truth of his
feelings. Not anymore. Kirstin wanted the good confessions, she had to accept
the bad as well.