Page 9 of I Choose You

“Only for you, your highness.” He bows slightly, pretending to tip an imaginary hat, and returns to his chair, though a tiny part of me wishes it weren’t on the other side of the table.

“Let’s talk about something a little more serious for a second,” I say. “You’re on the verge of looking like a zombie.”

Running a hand through his dark brown hair, longer than normal layers flitter through his fingers. While the sides are still somewhat faded, the top is the longest it has been in a while.

I lower my brows and settle back into my seat. “Seriously. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

He brushes off my comment as if I’m going to let it slide. “Do I hear a compliment coming next?”

“You wish. You need sleep, Mase.”

He reaches for his glass of water, the condensation smearing across his palm. “I’ll get it soon enough.”

“Will you? You’ve been going strong for how long? Two, three, seven months?”

He sighs in exasperation, though I don’t think he does it to upset me, and leans forward to change the subject. If he didn’t love what he did, he would have quit forever ago. And while it’s reassuring that he loves his job, his lack of time off is as worrisome as the somersaults my belly performs whenever he’s around.

“You know what I love about you?” he asks, refusing to let the exhaustion—and my incessant nagging on the subject—consume him.

I stare at him blankly and point my finger at him. “No changing the subject.”

“How much you care,” he says, narrowing his all-knowing eyes. “I like how you put your whole heart into our friendship,” the corner of his mouth tips up, his expression morphing into a telling smirk. “A tiny part of me likes it when you get on my case.”

If it came down to it, I would jump into a line of fire for him. Luke, too. They’re my family. I would do anything for them. Aside from my mom, they’re the only ones lucky enough to reap the rewards of a lifetime of my love. The pitch of my voice changes, emotion fluttering through when I say, “I’ll always care.”

He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I know, but I’m telling you…I’m okay.”

Even with his assurance, it’s difficult to push away the concern brimming below the surface. I wish I could help him see reason, but I know how devoted he is when it comes to his job. Being a hard worker was embedded into him when he was young. That to reach your dreams, you must work endlessly—work your life away—until you get them. And besides, he’s a grown ass man; at the end of the day, he can take care of himself. No matter how I feel about it.

“Screw it,” I say. “Let’s just not go back to work. Jessie’s can live without me, and your boss can cover the rest of whatever details still need ironing out on your current projects.”

He grins, taking another sip of water before pushing his glass to the center of the table. He combs a hand through his hair again. “Believe me, if we could leave the daily hustle and hide out somewhere, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

My chest warms at the thought of Mason and me playing hooky and spending days together without a worry in the world.

“What are we waiting for? We should do it.” I shrug off the importance of our responsibilities. “Life is too short.”

“I wouldn’t have a job to come back to,” he says, twisting his wrist to check his watch for the time. “While it sounds tempting as hell to get away, not having a job to come back to would be devastating. In more ways than one.” He leans toward the edge of his chair and peers around me. “Where the hell are Luke and Layla? If they’re not here soon, we’re going to be waiting forever for our food.”

“Who are you kidding? Your boss would miss the income and try to lure you back in the blink of an eye.” I glance over my shoulder to see if I can spot the periwinkle scrubs Layla practically lives in—which I guess is what happens when you’re a nurse at the only hospital in a twenty-mile radius—or Luke’s sizable figure. I don’t catch sight of either. “You weren’t afraid to jump from your roof onto the trampoline when we were thirteen, but you’re worried about playing a little hooky?” I swallow down a sip of water and focus on his response as chatter around the restaurant increases.

He smirks at the memory. “That was badass, huh?”

My brow lifts as I mull it over. “You did it for the wrong reasons.”

Thirteen-year-old Mason only jumped from the second-story roof to show off to Teresa Clemens. He had the biggest crush on her and would do anything to prove how cool he was. Little did he know, he was already cool enough, but try telling that to a teenager going through puberty whose goal is to impress his first crush.

“It was dumb,” I tell him. “You could have broken a toe, your neck, died.”

Resting his lean forearms on the table, he leans closer with that handsome smirk of his. I want to wipe the smugness from his face, but it’d mean I’d miss out on having it aimed at me, and that’s not something I’m willing to sacrifice. Not when it makes my heart—and stomach—leap into the air like a gymnast doing a scissors leap.

“I seem to remember you being there for the show, too.” His smirk grows into a teasing grin, and he stays locked on me. So long that perspiration starts presenting itself at the back of my neck. It helps that my blouse is airy, but my throat seizes from his stare. It takes everything I have to gulp through the jackhammering of my heart—and the fact that I should not be paying a lick of attention to it—and take a mouthful of water.

It’s just what I need to cool down. My hands splay out on the table, and I lean forward with my own lively smile. “Only to make sure you survived the landing.”

He chuckles, lifting an arm off the table to lean back in his chair. “Luke wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

“He’s part of the reason you were up there!” I whisper-yell, though I still snag the attention of a pair of guys sitting next to us. “He’s the one who dared you!”

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