Page 129 of Stolen Moments

Mason

After my little runin with Emery, I gave her space. I tried my best not to stare at her—or glare daggers at her date—for the rest of dinner. Not that I was successful.

My eyes can find her in a crowded room without trying. She’s the beacon calling me home to shore, and I can spot her light from a mile away.

I know I’m hers too. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention under her watchful eyes throughout the night. But every time I tried to make eye contact, she’d look away. It took all of my willpower not to take her into my arms, sweep her off her feet, and take her away so we could be alone. To talk, of course.

As much as I want to run my hands and lips over every inch of her body, show her just how much I missed her, I need to figure some shit out. The state I left her in by the restrooms probably confused her more.

No doubt, she’s feeling whiplashed by my behavior—or at least. I hope she is because I sure as hell am.

Our encounter at the bachelor party didn’t end well. I lied through my teeth when I told her the sex was a mistake. I let my anger and frustration—my longing—cloud my vision. I implied we were a mistake, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. Nothing about us or our relationship was a mistake.

Months of no contact with her have gotten me nowhere. My initial anger with her has dissipated and has been replaced with a deep yearning, and her absence has left a gaping hole in my life and my heart, and I’m the one that put it there.

I’m a fucking idiot for thinking I could walk away from her and feel nothing.

I unlock the door to my room and step inside, locking it behind me.

The inn Jace and Rylann booked for their wedding is pretty cool. It’s nestled north of their hometown, an area that is up and coming, and teeming with vineyards. The property is the perfect reflection of them as a couple. The place itself has history and charm, and the interior has been completely modernized. It’s the same inn they stayed in when they went on their babymoon, so there is a lot of sentimental meaning here.

Looking around the room, I’m reminded of the weekend Emery and I locked ourselves away in the hotel suite, too wrapped up in each other to leave.

I chuck my phone on the bed, strip off my clothes, and marchinto the bathroom to turn on the shower. When the water is warm, I slide under the hot water, letting it ease the tension in my back.

It’s been a day, and I still have a lot to figure out before I see Emery tomorrow. My heart does a foreign leap in anticipation of seeing her beautiful face again. She looked breathtaking tonight in that sexy-as-fuck pantsuit.

The mere thought of her brings my dick to life. But after seeing her tonight, on the arm of another man, I can’t bring myself to fuck my palm to visions of her like I usually do. I know I kissed her—and she kissed me back—and no matter how right it felt in the moment, it was wrong as fuck for me to put her in that position.

Ignoring my hardening cock, I wash up and hop out of the shower. After drying off, I rush to put on a pair of boxers, brush my teeth, and take a seat on the edge of the bed. The need to listen to the voicemail eclipses all else.

Grabbing my cell, I slide it open and tap on my messages. My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest, and I hesitate. Watching her with another man tonight fucking killed me.

That kiss? Fuck. I will go to the grave with that kiss on my mind and her taste on my mouth.

The phone in my hand weighs a hundred pounds. Everything hangs on what this voicemail says. Every word can either send me running to her, or from her.

Or does it?

Do I hate that she lied to me? Hell fucking yes. I’m angry and hurt, but that doesn’t mean I stopped loving her. I’ve tried to push my feelings away by drowning myself in work. It’s done fuck all to help me. I think about her every minute of every day. That is the crux of it all. She is all I think about. No matter how angry I am at her, I still want her. I still love her.

I hit play.

“Mase, it’s me, Emery. I mean, of course you know that.”She pauses and hiccups, which makes her chuckle to herself.

Is she drunk? That’s not like her; she hates drinking more than a glass or two of wine.

“Anyway, I don’t know if you’re getting my messages or not, but I need to get this out. I-I need you to hear me when I say I am so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I know I hurt you, and maybe you’re right for walking away from me. You don’t deserve to be lied to. It was never my intention to lie.”

Her voice wavers, and I can picture her trying to hold back tears as she speaks.

“I told you from the beginning that I didn’t want to get into a relationship with you. I tried to say it was about the distance. But that wasn’t true. It was because I was trapped. For years, my parents used Chris’s safety against me and tried to manipulate me into marrying someone I didn’t love. You need to know that Lex—that’s his name,by the way—sure as hell didn’t love me. We had a deal—pretend to accept the marriage terms, and eventually, we would get out of the arrangement. He’d go his way and I’d go mine.

“His parents are like mine—manipulating assholes that care more about the family business than their children. But of course, nothing ever goes my way, and Lex went rogue on me. He fucked everything up. I swear, I didn’t know what he was doing behind my back. Anyway, it’s a long story and not really mine to tell, except that he’s in love with someone else too.

“Just like I am. I-I love you, Mason. With every fiber of my soul. I love you. I hate that you walked away. I hate that you won’t talk to me. I hate that you’re gone. I miss you so much, it’s killing me.”Her voice cracks, breaking my heart.

I close my eyes as tears cloud my vision. Her confession rips away at the narrative I created in my head about her so-called fiancé.

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