Page 58 of A Little More Hope

He laughed at me, literally laughed. “Well, all I’ll say to that is ditto buddy.” Okay, yeah, he had me there. “And also, why not? The guy’s cute and what he can do with his tongue—”

“Stop,” I squealed holding up my hands, “For goodness’ sake, stop.”

“You did ask,” he replied airily as he walked up the stairs. “I need a shower. Damn, paint dust and wood shavings get everywhere.”

I shooed him away in disgust. “I need to go bleach my brain.”

His laughter followed him upstairs, leaving me alone with the latest update on his sexual shenanigans. He definitely wouldn’t be the first to fall into my friend’s bed by any stretch of the imagination. The way Flynn carried on, he’d soon need a revolving door on his apartment, or a decent appointment calendar to keep track of everyone. How he ever remembered their names or what they looked like anymore I had no clue.

Grabbing my phone, I padded back into the living area at the same time Mason returned, laptop in his hand.

Staring at the offending item, the urge to talk to him about the email was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. Instead, I asked, “You found it okay?” He nodded at me, but rather than pull out a stool at the bar top and do whatever he needed to, he simply placed the laptop on the counter, making me frown in confusion. “I thought you needed to do something.”

“I did what I wanted over there,” he said and tilted his head toward my house.

“Was it stuff for work?” I fished, hoping he’d give me the response I wanted to calm my unease.

He gave a small shake of his head. “I’m not working or answering work emails.” He came up beside me and kissed my forehead. “And what I wanted to do was nothing important, and quick, so now it’s done. I can forget about it,” he said closing the topic for further discussion. He headed into the kitchen. “Drink?”

I agreed absently, analyzing what his comments might mean. Was he being honest when he told me he’d not checked any work-related emails or reports? He’s a partner in a huge construction company. Surely, he had to check in occasionally, didn’t he? Had the email come in anyway and he’d not seen it? If what he’d done hadn't been important why did he need his laptop in the first place? And if it isn’t work, why didn’t he use his phone to do what he needed to do? Isn’t that what I and most everybody else did, after all?

I rubbed at my temple, trying to calm the headache beginning to form.

“Did someone say beer?” Gabe asked, coming into the kitchen and making me grind my teeth in frustration. With him around, there’d be no way to question Mason further.

“Hey, stranger,” Mason replied. “Beer coming right up.”

We sat outside on the deck, them on the lounges, and me out of place in the deck chair off to the side, feeling oddly like they were the ones dating, and I’d come for a visit. For the first time since we’d met, I wasn't the sole focus of Mason’s attention, and I found the feeling of being sidelined disconcerting. Christ, when did I become so clingy?

Before him, I relied on nobody but myself and had managed pretty well, if you don’t include the times I slept in a hostel or had no food. But even including those low moments, I’d eventually found a way out of my predicament, coming back stronger. So why the compulsion to act like a bear with a sore head for the simple reason Gabe held Mason’s attention for five minutes instead of me?

Needing some time alone, I stood and walked to the top of the stairs leading down to the beach. “I’m gonna get some air,” I called to them, and not waiting for a response, headed down the steps and out of their view, relaxing my shoulders once I had some space away from them both.

As I walked down to the beach, there was no deep thinking going on, merely the simple enjoyment gained from the peace and quiet of the late afternoon. My one regret, not putting on some footwear. My feet protested every time I stepped on detritus from the flowers and grasses growing on the side of the hill on the way down.

There’d been more tourists about in the last couple of days, and a few remained at the farthest end of the beach closest to town, leaving this stretch of sand solely to me. The breeze gently ruffled my hair as I headed straight for the shore, the distinctive smell of sea and salt reminding me of being on my surfboard in the deep ocean.

Now I had some money I could afford to buy a new one so I could lose track of time for a few hours—just me, my board, and the waves.

How long I stood there staring out to sea, I’d no idea, but I had no problem sensing Mason behind me, off to my right. Not too close, he waited patiently for me to acknowledge his presence.

“Hi,” I greeted him, pivoting around until we were face-to-face. “What are you doing down here? Did you come down here with Gabe?” I searched for him; but no, he was alone. A huge surge of pride welled up inside me because he’d managed to walk all this way by himself.

“Hi,” he replied instead. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He grimaced. “Though I guess I am.”

Closing the five or so feet between us, I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You’re not.”

He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “I don’t seem to be able to stay away from you.”

His words filled all the cold places inside me with glowing warmth. Between us, we had a fair way to go, but talking was a perfect place to start. Calming down, I finally worked up the courage to ask him the question bugging me all day. “You got an email this morning.” He didn’t respond, only stared intently at me. “I promise I didn’t read anything,” I stressed, wanting him to be clear that’s not something I’d ever do. “It popped up while I worked on my spreadsheet, but I saw the title.” I let what I’d said settle, wondering what he’d say. When I got no response, I asked the question I most needed the answer to. “Are you leaving soon and going back to work?”

He sighed and pulled me into his arms. “I didn’t want to say,” he replied, “but I am, and I’m not.”

I froze. “What do you mean? Are you leaving or not?”

“Not,” he confirmed. “For a while anyway. I’m going to take on more responsibility at the beginning of next month, so I have a couple more weeks. Until then, I’m not working and don’t intend to.

Two weeks is all I have left of his company each day. Two short weeks!

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