Page 79 of Shattered Promise

By the time I make it back to Mason’s, the sun is fully up. It warms the air, the grass already drying. A bird sings somewhere overhead. Everything smells like summer is almost here.

There’s a hum beneath my skin I can’t quite name. Like something new is blooming in my chest and I’m afraid to look at it too closely in case it disappears.

The screen door creaks softly as I let myself in.

The living room is still a chaos of baby toys and discarded blankets. The baby monitor crackles softly from the kitchen counter, and Mason’s standing at the stove, shirtless again, sweatpants slung low, hair damp like he just ran a hand through it and forgot about the rest.

He turns when I walk in, and his mouth curves slightly. Still sleep-rumpled. Still not real.

His eyes drift to the Post-it on the coffee pot. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be back.”

“I’ll always come back.”

He tilts his head. “You sure?”

I don’t answer that—not directly. Just step into the kitchen and slide the grocery list I started onto the counter. “I was thinking I might run into Maple Grove tomorrow,” I say, lightly. “Take Theo and grab a few things from the grocery store. But I might need to borrow your car.”

He blinks at me. That subtle shift in his jaw, like he’s trying to understand what I just said and what it might mean. “What about your flight tonight?”

I don’t let myself hesitate. “I moved it.”

His brows lift. “You moved it?”

“I have a meeting with my boss on Friday,” I say, breezy like it’s no big deal. Like I didn’t write and delete that email six times before I hit send.

Mason’s gaze sharpens, his whole body suddenly alert. “A meeting?”

I look down at the list I’ve half-scribbled: yogurt melts, teething toys, sweet potato packets. My fingers curl around the edge of the counter. “I thought I owed it to her to quit in person.”

I slide my thumb over the countertop, pressing the cool laminate, feeling my pulse in the tip of my finger. It’s not a statement I meant to drop so casually, but now that it’s out there, I can’t take it back. I don’t want to. I want him to know—I want to know—what happens when I put my life here, on the table, beside his.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Just stares at me, still as a photograph, like he’s waiting for the punchline.

“I’m not going back, Mase.” I say it softly, but it’s the surest thing I’ve ever said. “Not for good, anyway. Just long enough to pack up my apartment and say goodbye to the office. I want to stay here.”With you and Theo.

My words dangle in the kitchen, fragile and shining like a soap bubble. One move and it could burst, but it’s the most beautiful thing in the world while it lasts.

Mason’s face is unreadable for half a second, then he blinks once, twice, and I see the hope flicker behind his eyes. Like he’s almost afraid to believe it, like some part of him thinks I’ll take it back if he breathes too loud.

“You’re resigning.”

I lift my chin and meet his eyes. “I’m staying.”

The air shifts. Nothing loud or dramatic—just something subtle pulling tight between us, like a thread finally tying off.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just presses his palm to the counter and exhales slowly through his nose. There’s something wild and wanting in the look he gives me, but he reins it in. Tucks it away. Like he’s afraid to name it out loud.

Instead, he nods. Just one deep, deliberate nod like it costs him something to do it.

And I don’t know why that hits me so hard, but it does.

“I’ll make a grocery run this afternoon,” he says eventually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

I smile. “Perfect.”

“Coffee?” he asks, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“I’m good, thanks. I had something when I ran home.”

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