“A Jack and Coke for me,” he says.
“You got it.” The bartender turns away to make our order.
Mason adjusts his body to face me fully, resting his elbows on top of the bar. “A Cosmo?”
“What? That’s a good drink.”
“Doesn’t it have cranberry juice in it?”
I rest my chin in the palm of my hand. “Yes, so?”
“Disgusting.”
When our drinks arrive, Mason holds his glass in the air in front of us. “Cheers to being friends.”
I lift my martini into the air, pausing before it meets his glass. “I wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself there. I still think you’re a self-centered fuck boy.” I caution before bringing my glass to his.
“That’s fine; I’ll take it.” He smiles.
It’s interesting to me that he doesn’t correct my comment or even try to defend himself.
“How long will you be in Burbank on this trip?” I ask, setting down my martini.
“I have to fly back Friday. It’s my dad and my stepmom’s anniversary. I’m taking them to dinner.”
A surprised expression sweeps across my face. “Wow. That’s really nice.”
His eyebrows snap together. “Why do you look and sound so surprised?”
“I just am, that’s all.” My eyes fall to my fingers, which are currently playing with the napkin under my glass.
“You really think that low of me that you’re surprised by me taking my parents out to dinner for their anniversary?” he asks.
Scratching my head, I have to think about how to answer his question because, based on his reaction, I’m now ashamed for thinking that way. “Yes, actually.”
He turns away from me, taking another sip of his whiskey. “I have a lot of work to do with you, don’t I?”
Chewing on the side of my cheek, I decide not to answer him. But I’m sure my silence speaks louder than my words would.
“When do you head home?”
“I have two more legs, then I’ll be home. I head to San Francisco in the morning, then my last leg is from San Francisco to Phoenix. I can’t wait to get home. I miss Luca,” I say, frowning.
When the bartender walks over, we both order another drink.
Mason’s face softens. “I bet you do. I’m sure it’s difficult being a single mom.” He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a small sip. “Do you mind me asking where Luca’s dad is? Harry told me he was into drugs. I’m sorry to hear that.”
I’m hit with a punch in the gut every time someone asks about Luca’s father. I usually try to avoid the topic because I can’t just casually say he’s a heroin addict. Then I try to revert to a canned answer like,he’s not in the picture. The scenario plays like a bad rerun that always ends with what most people think is giving me sympathy, but in reality, it’s just pity. I hate it.
I swallow my pride, nervously bite my lip, and just come out with it. “Yes, he was.” I let out a long exhale before continuing. “It was the hardest time of my life. We were only together for a little less than two years before I witnessed him overdose. At that point, I knew I’d had enough. That was the same week I found out that I was pregnant with Luca.”
“Damn, I’m so sorry.”
His sincerity catches me off guard, causing a warmth within me. “By the time Luca was born, Tyler was knee-deep in legal battles for drug charges and completely immersed in the drug world that he didn’t care about the fact that I had gotten pregnant.” My shoulders fall, and my cheeks slightly redden, verbalizing the embarrassment of the rejection—and not just for me but for my little Luca as well.
Mason lets out an audible sigh. “I just don’t understand how anyone could just walk away from their child like that.”
“I know.”
