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He shook his head. “No. No on
e was going to stop me.”
“Then what did it? Why did you change your mind?”
“Don’t get me wrong. They tried. I do have to give them some credit, especially Renee. But I realized my hurt wasn’t Grey’s hurt. And I was no better than Dad if I destroyed the Palm. It would have been selfish like him. As much as I wanted a high-rise here, I found a way to compromise. Something I seldom do.” He pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes, and for the first time since he started talking I realized he was trying to lighten the conversation.
I took his hand, brushing the sand off his skin. “I didn’t know you last year when all of that happened, but I’m glad. I’m glad you didn’t destroy the Palm. And I’m glad you found a way to be friends with Grey.”
“I am too. He’s a good guy.” He stood, stretching his arms above him. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
“Never.” I shook my head.
“Want to swim? It’s hot out here.”
“I wondered how long it would take you before you were restless.”
“Me restless? No. I just want to see how that bikini looks wet.”
I slapped at his chest. “I’ll race you.”
Before he had a chance to realize I had taken off I started running towards the waves. Mason caught up in seconds, grabbing me around the waist and spinning me in the surf.
I realized how we must have looked. Like one of those couples. Like Marin and Pick at the bonfire. Like two people at the end of a movie when the credits are about to roll. The couple you know you should stop watching, but you can’t help it. He set me back on my feet. The minnows swam around our ankles, nibbling at our legs.
I threw my arms around his neck. I didn’t care if every single person saw what happened next. I pulled Mason’s mouth toward me and kissed him. I kissed him with saltwater on our skin, and the sun melting into our shoulders. I kissed him with every breath I had. I couldn’t change what had happened to him—I couldn’t make the things right that his father had done, but I could be here now. As long as he would let now last.
17
Mason
Sydney had a way of making me forget I had other priorities. I had a multi-million dollar business to run. Saturdays weren’t days off. They were days other people took off. Me? I worked seven days a week.
I watched her lying in the sun next to me. The sun glistening off her wet skin. The straps of her bikini tossed on either side of neck. I thought she might have fallen asleep.
But here I was. Skipping work. Playing on the beach. Acting like my time was free.
I pulled my chair toward the shade under the umbrella. It had moved since we set up camp this morning. I tossed a chip at the same seagull who had been stalking us all day.
“Get out of here!”
He gobbled the chip and flapped his wings until he was only a dot in the sky. He flew behind us over the Palm.
I had expected Sydney to grill me about the lawsuit and about Dad, but she had only listened. Maybe it was because she had her own share of family pain.
There were things I still hadn’t told her. But I didn’t want to rush it. It felt like there was time. We would talk more. I’d ask about Hailey. And she’d ask about my parents. I dug my heels deep in the sand.
I closed my eyes, ignoring the urge to check my phone. Emails could wait. Lachlan Corporation could make it a day if I took a nap on the beach with a pretty girl.
The next day we sat on the balcony.
“When was the last time you took an entire weekend off?” Sydney asked.
There was an open bottle of wine between us. I looked over at her on the chaise. The colors of the Sunday sunset reflected shades of pink off the glass door behind us.
I pretended to search my memory bank. “Uhh. Does my Italy trip count?”
“No, since you told me you went there to scout an olive farm.”
