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They’re “lucky to have you.”
It was going to take more than a bachelorette party fortune teller to convince me that was true.
I settled into the cushy corner of the sectional, all curled up with one of Sarah’s many luxuriously soft blankets, and checked my phone. The last I’d heard from Mason, the guys were about to leave Indianapolis. It had been almost two hours now.
A foot from my head, Sarah stirred on the chaise lounge. “Kendall,” she whispered. I lifted my head to glimpse Sarah’s face, lit up from the glow of her phone’s screen. “I haven’t heard from Owen in a long time. Do you think they’re okay?”
“Of course,” I said, avoiding sharing the extent to which I’d been texting Mason throughout the night. Getting updates on the status of Owen’s wild night was one thing—that was mostly for Sarah’s enjoyment. I couldn’t let on that Mason and I kept up the conversation. “I bet they’re on their way back.”
She twisted her hair in her fingers, thinking this over. And just when I contemplated shooting Mason an ETA text, we both heard the unmistakable sound of car doors closing. We sat up at the same time, listening. Frozen. Was it just a neighbor?
“Easy there, boss.” My stomach somersaulted at the sound of Mason’s voice coming from the porch, and Sarah flew to the front door. Someone was fumbling with keys on the other side, but Sarah beat them to the punch, yanking the door wide open. Owen, wearing a sleepy smile, lunged forward to hug his fiancée—or, more accurately, fall into her—pushing her backwards a few steps until she found her footing and held him up.
Mason stepped inside the foyer, giving me a quick glance before shaking his head at the other two. He was trying not to smile. “You told me to bring your groom back in one piece, and well…”
Owen, still burying his face against Sarah’s neck, murmured something that sounded like, “I tasted Larry Bird.”
“There he is,” Mason finished.
The other women were all sitting up on the couch now. “And that’s my future brother-in-law,” Samantha said with a giggle.
I stood up from the couch and caught Mason’s eye. “How was the drive back?”
“Eventful.” He was smiling from one side of his mouth, watching Sarah stand on her tiptoes to hold Owen’s face in her hands. The sound of loud, sloppy kisses erupted from them, much to everyone else’s disgust.
As though he didn’t have an audience, Owen’s hands drifted down Sarah’s backside. Somehow, he managed to scoop her up in his arms to carry her up the stairs. Sarah shrieked, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. “I’ll be back down in thirty minutes, girls,” she called out between laughs.
“No she won’t,” Owen hollered over his shoulder. The two of them tumbled up the steps, making it about three-fourths of the way up before they dropped, deciding to make out where they landed. “I could take you right here on these stairs,” Owen not-so-quietly told her.
“Um, please don’t,” Samantha insisted.
Mason covered his eyes. As for me, my hands went to my ears, but I could still hear Sarah’s shrieking laughter as Owen scooped her up again, carrying her the rest of the way to their bedroom.
“That man is going to be asleep in five minutes,” Mason said, pointing at the staircase. The other women laughed. I was still awkwardly standing between the couch and the coffee table, unable to remember why I’d leapt to my feet in the first place.
Mason reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a set of keys before carefully placing them on the console table beside him. “My work here is done,” he said, the sound of a thump above our heads pulling his eyes upward for a second. “Goodnight, ladies,” he said, holding his hand to his forehead in a salute.
I resisted the urge to walk over to him, my eyes flickering toward the other women, who were all still sitting up on the couch. Mason’s gaze lingered on my face, and I tugged at the bottom of my cotton shirt, trying to appear nonchalant. “Um—say hi to Finley for me,” I blurted.
Mason ran his fingers through his hair, opening the front door with his other hand. “She’d better sleep in for me tomorrow,” he said with a chuckle.
“How old is your daughter?” Jenny asked.
“Five—she’s in Kendall’s class,’ Mason answered, nodding toward me.
“Oh!” Jenny said, giving me a sly look, like it was all clicking for her. I was blushing, but Mason didn’t seem to pick up on any of the awkwardness.
“Yeah, she’s a stinker,” he said. With one final, lasting stare in my direction, he said goodbye another time before pulling the front door shut behind him. I lowered myself back to the couch, a pang of sadness striking my heart. It was always going to be like this—pretending Mason was nothing more than the father of one of my students. It would be a long time before we became that couple making out on the stairs, wouldn’t it?
The other women got settled again, and I tried to get comfortable on the couch. I couldn’t push thoughts of Mason from my mind, however—it had been too long since I’d touched him or held him close.
You’ll see him tomorrow, I told myself.
But that wasn’t soon enough.
Before I was even fully aware of what I was doing, I rose to my feet and headed toward the foyer. “I need to get something out of my car,” I quietly announced, just before slipping out the front door. Much to my relief, Mason’s Jeep was still parked near the end of the driveway with his headlights on. My heart leapt to my throat as I took off into a run, pulling open his passenger door and climbing inside.
He grinned like he was expecting me. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Get over here.” Mason grabbed me by the hips and pulled me onto his lap. It wasn’t easy to find a place for my knees on either side of him on that narrow seat, but we made it work. With a hand on the back of my head, he gazed into my eyes with a tired expression and said, “I knew you were going to run out here. That’s why I took my time.”
