“Shit. Mason, you startled me! And yes, it’s been a long few days of traveling.”
He laughs, flashing me a wide smile. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Do you want a glass?”
“Sure, but you sit down. I’ll get it,” he says, taking the bottle from my hands.
“Thanks.”
We remain silent for a short time as he pours two glasses before I decide to speak. “I’m here a lot without Luca, but it always feels so lonely when he’s gone.”
Mason’s shoulders sink. “I’m sure a lot of parents feel that way when they’re away from their kids.”
“You never thought of yourself having children?” I ask, feeling bold and taking a seat on the other side of the counter.
Mason pauses and clears his throat before answering. “No. My mom left when I was only three years old. I think that has made me fearful of having my own kids. I doubt myself. There’s a part of me that believes I’d never be a good parent because my mother left me. So, it’s just been easier to tell myself it’s not in the cards.”
I wince. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I guess I just assumed that they were divorced.”
“They were so young when they had me. When I got older and started asking more questions, my dad explained that she had some alcohol problems and eventually ended up living on the other side of the country with some guy she met. He thinks being a mom was just too much for her—that she had other priorities.”
My mind quickly gets trapped in a loop of confusion, trying to imagine other priorities besides your own child.How could she have just walked away from her family?“Have you everthought about trying to contact her?” My voice comes out shaky, and I’m worried my questions have become too personal.
Mason’s eyes lower, reflecting his apprehension, but he speaks anyway. “No, not at this point in my life.”
I sigh. “Was that hard, growing up without your mom?”
Mason reaches over the counter, handing me a glass. “Yes and no. I grew up in a very happy home. My dad and Terri loved me, they supported me and were always present anytime I needed them. Even though Terri was the best mother anyone could ever ask for”—he pauses—“and she is my mom. But there was, and still is, a small piece of me hidden beneath layers of happiness that still has to live every day knowing that my own mother abandoned me as a child. The day she left is still so vivid in my mind. I can still remember screaming and crying in the car that day as she stood on that curb watching me as she stepped out of my life.”
My stomach aches as a lump forms in my throat. I can’t even bring myself to tell him that I understand because I would never fully comprehend the impact that must have had on him as a little boy. Thinking about my Luca, my eyes fill with tears. They start to fall even though I try my best to control them. “Oh god, Mason. I had no idea.”
He leans back against the counter with his hands shoved into his pockets. “You wouldn’t. It’s really not something that I share with people. It’s too personal.”
I set my glass down, hop off the high chair, and take a few steps toward him. “I have no words. I’m so sorry. Having a child was the last thing on my mind at twenty-two years old but then Luca came. And he has been the best gift.”
Mason pushes off the counter and closes the gap between us. His body is now almost flush with mine. He reaches out and brushes loose hair away from where it’s fallen onto my face. “Butyou’re an incredible mom, and Luca is such a good kid. He’s fun, kind, and way cooler than any of us will ever be.”
My eyes begin to swell, and my first instinct is to hold them back. “I don’t always feel like a good mom. I hate myself sometimes for taking away his only dad. I’ve kept them separated.”
Instead of dropping his hand when my hair is safely removed, he lets it glide down to my cheek, cupping my face in what feels like a warm, sensual hug. Mason’s eyes bore into mine, a soft seriousness to them. “No, he has kept himself separated from Luca.”
My eyebrows furrow with confusion when he comes to my defense with such conviction in his voice. It surprises me.
“I know, but it doesn’t always feel like that,” I say.
Having such an intimate and personal conversation with him should feel strange or even uncomfortable. But it doesn’t. Mason is complex and filled with deep emotional scars that I can relate to.
The silence around us has rapidly become deafening.
I find myself craving to learn more about him and wanting our conversation to continue. “When did your dad meet Terri?” I ask, crossing my arms at my chest.
His expression lightens at the mention of his stepmom. He lets his hand slowly fall, then walks around the counter to take the seat I just occupied. A chill moves across my skin now that he’s left me.
“He met Terri through work. They were both in sales at the time and traveled a lot. I was around five when they started dating and coming around.” Mason grabs the wine bottle and starts refilling both of our glasses. “We’ve always had an incredible relationship. They tried to have kids early on, but it never happened. She always told me that I was her son and that I was enough if she never had any more kids.”
“She loved you right away, didn’t she?”
“Yes, I believe so. She didn’t have to, but she chose me.”
