Page 95 of Fun and Games
My mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
"You can't deny it, can you?" Mason asked.
"But—" Tears filled my burning eyes. "I love yo—"
"I don't want to hear it," Mason cut me off.
I snapped my jaw shut to keep it from trembling.
He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a sigh through his nose.
"It's fine," he continued, his voice monotone. "This was all just for fun, anyway, right?"
"That's not all this is," I replied, my voice thin and thready.
"That's all it can be," he said, his expression stony. "You told me upfront you didn't want anything serious. I should have remembered that."
"Things have changed," I insisted.
"Have they?" Mason's voice was flat. "You keep your dead fiancé's wedding ring on your nightstand."
God, it sounded so bad, didn't it? I swiped at a single tear as it fell down my cheek.
"It was a table near the foot of the bed," I tried to explain in a small voice.
"I was just a distraction for you, wasn't I?" Mason asked.
His blank, unreadable eyes had turned dark and ominous, like those storm clouds rolling through our picnic. Things had been going so well back then. How could it have all turned out like this?
"This whole time, all I'd been was a guy to keep your bed warm," he continued.
"That's not it at all!" I cried.
The misery churning inside me began to twinge with ire. Mason was purposely trying to twist things around, to make things sound worse than they were.
"Maybe that's all we were in the beginning," I continued, "but it was the same for you, too. You didn't want anything serious, either, remember? But things are different now."
"I don't know that they are." Mason's expression was as cold as arctic ice. "I'm done with this conversation." He whirled on his heel, turning his face from me and stalking off.
"Mason!" I pleaded. "Don't just walk away."
He halted, halfway through the doors to the back room. Mason tossed me a look full of hurt, fury and betrayal, spitting out his last words like a bullet to my chest.
"I'm not going to be the guy you fuck as a replacement for your dead ex."
Thirty-Six
The gritof crumbling cinderblocks bit into my hands as I leaned against the stony exterior of Sin and Tonic. I'd stumbled out of the bar, vision blurry with tears, and had only made it around the corner. I found myself clinging to the brick facade in the dark alleyway of the bar.
My feet wouldn't carry me any longer, as if lead weights were attached to my ankles. Sobs tore out of my throat, echoing down the alley, bouncing off the dark, shadowed buildings, amplifying my grief.
How had things gone so wrong so fast?
I blinked unseeing eyes, trying to clear the wet, salty tears obscuring my sight. I forced my throat to close with a whimper, silencing the wracking sobs.
I'd fucked up. I'd fucked up so royally. I'd ruined everything.
All because Icouldn'tfucking move on.
