Page 76 of The Night We Met

It’s been thirty days where I’ve put my head down and worked. Before my self-imposed focus period, I sent a text to Mason and let him know when I’d be in touch. His resistance was expected. I can’t imagine having your life dictated by others. Me holding back from him was just another facet of his life being controlled.

As I’m leaning over my design desk trying to work on some new sketches I get a knock at my door. “Come in!” I yell without looking up. The bodice on this corset is giving me the most trouble. It’s intricate but also delicate. Yet my pencil strokes on this sketch are anything but delicate.

Most designers have moved onto technology to do their work for them. Choosing iPads over sketchbooks to make every detail precise. I won’t lie and say I don’t use technology for my sketches and I do, but for the less complex pieces. But my bread and butter comes from a sketchpad and a pencil. Well, usually. Today not so much. So this delivery is a welcome interruption to my not so successful drawings.

“I have a delivery for Ms. Rawlins.” A young man calls.

I huff at my work and I look up with confusion coating my tone. “That’s me.”

He walks over to my desk and places an arrangement of orange lilies down.

“Do I need to sign?” I ask him.

“No ma’am, they’re already taken care of. Have a nice day.” And with that he leaves.

I walk over to the flowers and take in their beauty. “Who are those from?” My assistant Olivia asks me as she pokes her head into my office.

I pluck the card from the flowers. “I was just about to check who they were from nosey lady.”

Kamryn,

I can’t get you out of my mind.

Come to a home game soon

Let me know which one and I’ll leave tickets.

XOXO, Mason.

I read over the card three times with a smile on my face.

“Oooo! Those are pretty. Who are those from?” Jax asks when she walks in my office. I show her the card and she gives me her best I-don’t-know face.

“What is that face for?” I ask my sister.

She looks at me like I’m insane. “You haven’t shown a man any inkling of interest since Liam. And now all of a sudden you’re all doe-eye for Mason again?”

“I’m not doe-eyed for anyone.” The beginnings of a panic attack make my fingers tingle. I knew no matter who I started talking to I’d get this type of reaction.

Jax cocks her brow at me. “Okay. Well what happened with Brett? I thought for sure something would brew between you two.”

“Brett was a chauvinistic pig who said it was ‘cute’ that I designed clothes. I told him it was ‘cute’ that he was still working a part-time job at thirty-five. Needlessto say the guy you thought I would hit it off with was a total bust. Let me have this little slice of happiness Jax. And if it’s with Mason, you have to respect that. If it’s not with Mason, then you also have to respect that.”

“Okay,” she concedes. But I know it’s not that easy with her. “I’m just confused why all of a sudden.”

“It’s not sudden. At least not on my end.” A strange feel of exhaustion takes over as I have the need to defend myself. “Jax, I have been working on myself for years. You know this. Letting Mason back into my life, it’s not an easy decision. When I saw him that night at Mike’s club I was caught off guard. And even he knows that one night isn’t enough to take away the pain of the way he left me. So if Mason and I ever make it to an ‘us’ again, I won’t take your negativity.”

Jax holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay. You and Mason were good together. I know that. But I just don’t want you to get your heart broken again.”

“I know you don’t. Thank you for looking out for me. I’m sure we’ll hit the bumps that every relationship does, but I’ll be fine. One big mess up and I’m done.” I pull my sister in for a hug.

I don’t want to get my hopes up. Or even jump past the obstacles I know will be in our way. We’re both older with so much time lost between us. But time we can gladly make up for. I want to get to know Mason now. I want to get to know the thirty-year old version of him. I want to get to know the thirty-year old that has succeeded beyond all expectations in a sport he only picked up as a hobby. I want to get to know Mason again. Eventually, when the time comes, I hope to fall in love with Mason again.

Because once upon a time, he made loving him as easy as breathing. We were effortless. Nothing with our relationship was forced. He had the uncanny ability to read mymind. He read my moods like they were a playbook depicting every one of them with accuracy. Can loving him again be as easy as breathing?

I’m sitting at home later that day with a glass of wine, when my phone pings with a text from Mason. I slide to open the message.

Mason: Hey beautiful. Did you get my flowers?

---