Page 80 of The Night We Met

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.I repeat to myself over and over again.

With one last deep breath I step up to the desk and clear my throat.

“Hi. I’m here for Mason Brooks,” I announce to the concierge when I finally find my words. I could haveeasily texted him but my nerves have taken over and any inkling of thought I possessed is gone.

“Name?” The woman typing on her computer asks without looking up at me.

“Kamryn Rawlins.” I reply back to her.

She finally glances up with her mouth slightly open and shocked at hearing my name. I don’t get that reaction a lot so it brings a small smile to my face.

The concierge clears her throat a few times before calling up to Mason’s room. “He’ll be down in a minute. But may I just say that I’m a HUGE fan of your line. I buy a couple pieces from each collection and I’m super eager for this next line.” She rambles off to me.

I get a little flustered and blush at her compliment. “Thank you so much. That means a lot. I promise you’re going to love this new line.” I hear the elevator ping and turn to see Mason walk out and my heart does that pitter-patter skip a beat thing it always does when I see him. “Well it was nice meeting you.” I tell her as I wave and walk away.

My smile gets even bigger as I walk toward Mason, as if that’s even possible, and I let out a squeal when he picks me up and spins me around the lobby. “Ugh I’ve missed you Kam.” Mason says.

He puts me down and I get lost in his hazel eyes before sputtering out, “Yeah I- I’ve missed you too.”

Pull it together Kamryn!

He puts his arm around my shoulder to pull me out of the hotel and kisses the top of my head. “Let’s go eat some food, beautiful.”

“So how have you really been? I see football is treating you well.” I say the last statement offhandedly.

“You’ve been checking me out I see.” His cheeks lift as he tries to hold back his laughter.

My own cheeks heat after having been caught. “Look, yes! Okay! You’re hot. And your body is insane. Football and time has been fantastic to you.”

“Not to sound like a dog, time has been wonderful to you as well.”

No more hiding the blush that spreads over my body as his gaze roams over my face. Lingering on my exposed chest as my body continues to heat up all over the place.

I take a sip of water because it is seriously hot in here!

“Enough body talk. I wanna know how you’ve been.”

The waitress bringing over our wine halts Mason from responding. She also takes our appetizer and entree orders, before heading back to her station.

“Exhausted. I’m pretty much on the go from July to February only slightly lightening my load during the off-season. I’ve been an obsessive routine follower that hasn’t made much time for a life outside of the game. When I was in Carolina, it was easier to see my family. And it made disconnecting from the game easier. But now being here…I’m still trying to figure out those logistics.”

No life outside of football is a very interesting take from Mason. “So no life outside of football. What about painting? Did you ever finish your degree? I know how important that was to you.”

“I know what you’re getting at Kam. I wasn’t a total monk so no need to beat around the bush.”

My cheeks burn at having evaded what I really wanted to ask. Truthfully, I have no reason to question his dating life when I was with Liam.

“No serious relationship then?” I beat the bullet and just ask him.

“No. It didn’t seem fair of me to get in a relationship when my time was so focused on football. I decided that whomever I was with deserved a full-time guy. That couldn’t be me when I’m occupied for half of the year.”

I let him by with that. Not wanting to get my hopes up that the reason he hadn’t been with anyone long term had been because of me. I moved on and he had that right to do so as well. Professional football players date all of the time. I’ve even made bridesmaids dresses for some of them that got married. So, I refuse to take his answer about not having time. But this dinner is not the place to ask that.

“Well what about painting?” I repeat one of the questions. His talents were unmatched, whether with a paintbrush or his fingers. Maybe I’m biased but his awards weren’t pity awards.

“I paint about once a year. The urge to paint was never strong after I got drafted. I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed it.” I sense sadness in his admission.

Maybe I was wrong that our heartbreak was one-sided. He loved painting more than football. To hear he’s barely picked up a paintbrush or gotten his hands messy with paints and oils in the eight years we’ve been apart hurts my heart.

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