Page 76 of I Heart Mason Cartwright
“Is everything okay?” Cassandra asks.
“We’re good.” I pull out AshLynn’s chair for her and return to my seat.
“I was speaking to AshLynn,” Cassandra says.
“We’re good,” AshLynn parrots.
I scoff in response to my thoughts and take a sip of my whiskey. The first one went down nice. This one should just be the icing on the cake.
“Well, shall we continue our wedding-planning conversation?” Jonathan asks.
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, AshLynn and I have decided to table that discussion for a bit.”
“Whatever does that mean?” my dad asks.
“How long is a bit?” Cassandra asks.
I look back and forth between the two, wondering who to answer first. “Jonathan, in answer to your question, it means we aren’t getting married in two weeks. And, Cassandra, in answer to your question, I’m not sure how long. At least until we figure a few things out.” I look to AshLynn for confirmation, but she’s looking down at her lap.
The table is quiet. I look down and take a sip of my drink.
Of course AshLynn stays quiet. She only speaks up when it benefits her.
I look up. Everyone is staring at me. I catch AshLynn’s eye, she makes anI don’t knowface back at me.
“I’m sorry, my mind must have drifted. What did I miss?” I ask.
Cassandra rolls her eyes.
Literally.
A grown woman rolls her eyes when I ask a question.Seriously, lady?
Willow leans toward me. “They asked about the wedding expenses if you aren’t getting married in two weeks,” she whispers.
“What wedding expenses?” I ask.
“There’s the deposit on the venue, the deposit for the caterer, the cost of the invitations, and the house lot down payment.”
“Excuse me?”
“We only had two weeks,” Cassandra says. As if that answers the question.
I sigh. “Okay, so, what exactly is it that you are saying?”
“If you and AshLynn aretabling thingsand not getting married in two weeks, then we’d like to know how you plan to reimburse us.” Cassandra’s tone is matter of fact. Like this is an everyday occurrence. I look at AshLynn, she averts her eyes.
“I didn’t . . .” I start. “AshLynn, you want to take this one?”
She remains silent and does not look up at me. Don’t know why I thought she’d actually say something.
“I’m asking you, Mason,” Cassandra says.
Reimburse them for a pretend wedding after a fake engagement. Jesus Christ.
“How much are we talking about?”
“Twenty-seven thousand three hundred forty-two dollars,” she says coolly.
