Page 129 of Masks and Mishaps

We’re leaving when a voice calls out, “Wait, Cavendish.”

Dalton and I turn around and see Weston crossing the lobby with his perfect black hair flowing as he jogs.

He stops in front of us. “My father,” he begins before swallowing audibly. “My father has impressed upon me the likelihood that Claudia Villatoro walks without you two. Hestrongly encouragedI apologize and ask you both to…” He inhales like it’s physically painful. “…to come back.”

Dalton snickers. “Let me guess. He threatened your pathetic, cuck existence if you didn’t come and grovel.”

“Dalton,” I hiss, nudging his arm with my elbow before facing Weston again. “But he did, didn’t he?”

Weston keeps his expression flat while he nods.

Dalton looks at me. “Your call.”

“Well,” I begin, “I can lend my talents to a bank where everyone knows I’m a camgirl. I’ll have to work alongside a sniveling nepo baby who sent me thirty-seven dick pics over the last two months, thinking I’d be impressed.Or, I can leave him to drown in the cesspool of his father’s dying bank.”

“I’m so hot for you right now,” Dalton murmurs.

I weave my arm around his waist before turning my attention back to Weston. “Pass.”

His eyes slip to daggers. “Whatever. Good luck with your mask videos, you weirdos.”

Without hesitation, Dalton throws the most vicious punch I’ve ever seen, sending Weston sailing until he’s sprawled a few feet away on the lobby’s tiled floor.

“Huh.” He shakes out his fist and flexes his fingers. “I thought I’d enjoy that more. Can you post his info on the dark web? I feel like that would help my mood.”

“Yeah, maybe later,” I agree, watching as Weston groans and clutches his face on the tiles.

“Great. Let’s go. I think I have Wheat Thins in my car.”

***

Dalton breaks countless traffic laws on the fast drive to Boston, and it doesn’t have anything to do with rushing—it’s just how he drives.

Still, when we get to the hospital where Christian is recovering, he’s well through the worst of it.

“I had my EpiPen. I’m fine,” is the first thing he says when I practically run into his hospital room while Dalton is parking.

“How?” I question, rushing over to put a hand on his forehead.

“I got careless. I’m fine,” he insists, swatting away my hand. “Tell her,” he says to Luis and Tommy, who are lounging in chairs next to his bed.

“He’s doing great. This hospital is amazing,” my father says from behind me, startling me and making me freeze.

When I turn around, he’s seated on a couch partially obscured by the door. His expression is somber but familiar, handsome but older every time I see him. This time, he looks exhausted.

“You and I are both listed as Christian’s emergency contacts, so they called me too,” he explains before I can ask why the hell he’s here. “They were having trouble getting in touch with you.”

“I had a thing at work,” I reply, frowning. “Why are you still here?”

Before my dad can respond, Dalton enters the room. “There you are,” he says before he wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead. “You leapt out of my car like I kidnapped you. Don’t do that again, sweetheart.” He bobs his chin at Christian. “What took you out?”

“Eggs,” Christian says, but he’s focused on our father, whose eyes are saucers.

“What the fuck?” Dalton remarks, finally noticing him too. “Did you guys know Porter was here?”

“I have a right to be here. I’m his father,” Dad replies.

Dalton’s body tenses in my arms. He almost moves forward, but I stop him.

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