Page 109 of Gin and Lava

“Mason may be crude,” I say, swallowing down the sharpness and the guilt. “But he’s kind.”

“Airing out your personal business isn’t kind.”

“You don’t know him,” I snap. “Half of the things Mason says aren’t even true.”

“But the other half?” Sam shoots back.

I should be ashamed—that’s what Sam is saying—ashamed of the things I’ve felt with Mason. Ashamed of Mason’s confidence, and self-awareness, and I-could-give-a-fuck attitude, because it’s brash, and it makes others uncomfortable.

Somehow Mason’s courage makes me a joke—in Sam’s eyes at least.

“You know, you hide behind this sweet doctor veneer,” I say, catching his eye. “You help people. You save lives. You get rich people to donate lots of money to fancy causes. And you get to be virtuous for all that. You get to build this version of yourself that’s good and important. It makes you think you’re better than others. And because you believe you’re so good and important you don’t notice when you’re not being nice. You just imagine you are. But you’re not, Sam. You aren’t being kind about Mason, and you weren’t kind to me when we were together—especially when you broke things off.”

Sam stares at me, stunned. “I was never—I didn’t—”

“I’m not saying you aren’t a good person, Sam,” I assert, watching his face pale and try to process what I’m saying. “There are a lot of things about you that are wonderful. Of course, there were. I loved you. But you weren’t always nice.”

“I—I—” Sam stutters, shaking his head. His eyes fleet around the grove we stand in. “Naomi, I never meant to—”

“Be nice now, Sam,” I plead. “Be kind. Even if it makes you mad that I’m with someone you don’t like.”

“I’m a doctor, my bedside manner sucks. Not that that’s an excuse, I just—” Sam’s brown eyes fill with emotion and apology. It makes my heart heavy and I resist the urge to reach out and comfort him. “It—it wasn’t easy for me when we broke up, either,” Sam admits. “It threw my world out of whack, too.”

Our eyes connect and there’s a tightness in my lungs I don’t want to look at. He left me, but his eyes are saying something else. Something I can’t register. Puzzle pieces that don’t fit.

It threw my world out of whack, too.

And yesterday—

I’d never throw your heart away again.

I push that hard lump of hope deep into my gut. I’m a romantic. I want to read into things when I shouldn’t. And Sam makes me weak. Cracks in your heart will do that sort of thing. I want the fairytale like Ned and Olivia’s wedding, but in my core I know they’re myths, veneers, pretty stories we tell little girls.

Empty wishes.

“Please, Sam,” I whisper. “Just be kind. That’s all I ask. Mason’s—” But I don’t know what to say about Mason. I don’t know what I’m trying to defend. “Be kind,” I echo, because it’s all I can manage, before heading toward the drumming in the distance from the luau.

Or maybe that’s my heart thrumming inside my chest.

Or maybe that’s thunder in the sky, warning that a storm’s approaching.

Or maybe it’s just fear, cracking me open.

33

MASON

After several emails back and forth with Esme, I know the basics of how to set up a photoshoot. Now the trick is to get Naomi on board. Or maybe she’ll let me borrow some of her finished pieces, and I could surprise her.

I glance at Brad in his lumberjack uniform behind the bar, and notice he’s barely keeping up with the early evening rush. It’s a Wednesday, so we shouldn’t be busy, but people keep trickling in and ordering tiki drinks. Maybe there’s a cruise ship in town.

I pull out my phone to text Naomi. I don’t want her to think I’m bailing on her tonight when I promised I’d be there, but Brad’s going to need reinforcements.

Mason:Princess. Good news and bad news.

I pull up the numbers of my back-up waitresses and text them too, seeing if anyone wants to come in for an extra shift tonight. I smirk when Naomi’s reply pops up, and I flip back to our thread.

Naomi:You’re allergic to coffee and your cock fell off?

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