Page 38 of Unromance

He frowned. “Yeah. They should, though.”

She shrugged. “That’s why I haven’t sold any of my other film rights. There have been offers, and I could definitely use the money, but you saw what they did toAlmost Lovers. It was like the studio had an idea for a movie they wanted to make and my book was doing well, so they took scraps of my book, slapped my name and title on it, and now the thing I’m most known for is barely even mine.”

That wasn’t the full story, and she had the uncanny feeling that Mason could tell she was holding back the real reason that adaptation didn’t sit well with her.

He frowned, but didn’t push the subject, thankfully. “That’s not fair. Your book is good. All your books are good, prime for an adaptation. Producers should want your input.”

That wasnothow it worked, but there was an edge to his voice, a protectiveness that warmed her insides. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“Of course. What else are friends for? And since we are officially friends,” Mason announced, handing her Friendshipulent. “I will pick you up tomorrow at two o’clock for Christmas dinner.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Meeting the family. She wasn’t Meeting the Family, but wow. “Okay,” she said tightly. Since the tree-decorating detour, she’d upheld her resolution to keep things between them about the list, but on this, she would have to break her rule. She really didn’t want to be alone on Christmas.

Mason beamed, his smile softening as he met her gaze. “And I’m really happy to hear you’re writing again. It’s kinda cool, being a part of the process.”

Sawyer hoped the smile she gave him read as genuine. She tried to let his excitement buoy her, but she couldn’t help but brace for the inevitable moment when it stopped being “cool,” when the veil of mystery was pulled back. The late nights and early mornings and days spent with her butt glued to her chair, andno, she wasn’t writing words, but sitting in that chair and trying was a part of it; and no, she couldn’t just pop out to the store or to a party, because writing time was sacred, and when the inspiration was flowing, she was its captive. The creative well wasn’t a tap that she could turn on and off when it was convenient for her—much less for others.

Maybe one day she’d find someone who got it—got her—but first, she needed to get her shit back together. Then, maybe, she could share it with someone. For now, she would guard this fragile ember of her career with her life.

Oblivious to her mental spiral, Mason’s smile faltered, his attention darting behind her briefly. “I think I had fun… at IKEA,” he said, mildly disgusted.

She huffed in surprise. “Y’know, I think I did, too, somehow.” Her shoulders drooped in defeat as she mimed removing the tally mark from under her name and giving it to him. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing a very good job of ruining things, am I?”

He shook his head. “No, don’t change. I think this is better, actually. If you were horrendous, I’d just blame it all not being fun on that. This way…” He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “This way someone has to be more fun than you for me to be tempted.”

She scoffed. “Well, good luck, because I am a barrel of fun.”

He grinned cheekily, and her stomach swooped.

“You are, too, by the way,” she said softly. “See you tomorrow?”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he echoed. He took one step back before doing a full spin and coming back to stand before her. “I forgot, uh—” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the parking lot to make sure no one was paying them any attention. “My family doesn’t know about LA, or the production company, or me leavingDiagnostics, so—”

Sawyer mimed zipping her lips. It wouldn’t be a family dinner without some level of secrecy and deceit. At least Mason was hiding good news.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “I want to get through the holidays before breaking the news that I’m leaving.”

“I get it.” She absolutely didn’t. She’d never been close with her family. Coming out as bi at seventeen had squashed any chance of that changing. When she went to college in another state, they hadn’t been surprised, hadn’t batted an eye when she said she wasn’t coming home for holidays or summer break or ever again. Mason was lucky to have a family that would miss him. She was more than a little touched that he’d confided in her at all.

“Tomorrow,” he promised with a roguish grin.

“Tomorrow,” she echoed.

He took a few steps back before turning, his long strides carrying him swiftly across the parking lot.

The happy feeling in her gut soured as she watched his dwindling figure. He’d probably only confided in her about LA because he didn’t care about her like that. It wasn’t like he was leaving her behind, not like his family. This thing between them had always had an expiration date. There was no “them.”

Tearing her gaze off his back, she tamped down the twisting sensation in her gut as she mentally crossed one more thing off their rapidly dwindling list. They didn’t have many items left, and she steeled her resolve. He’d helped her, and it was time to hold up her end of their bargain. And maybe Mason was right. She’d been going about this all wrong. Ruining romance wasn’t the answer. She needed to raise Mason’s bar for romance, to set the new standard.

She was going to become the blueprint for Mason’s other half.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SECRETS, SECRETS– Romance statistics calculate that if you have a secret, the odds of it coming out at the absolute worst possible moment are 100 percent.

The knock came atexactlytwo o’clock. Which was perfect, because she’d been ready for an hour. Or so she thought.

Swinging the door open, she saw Mason had swapped out his usual gray peacoat for a trim black one. Her hand reached out of its own volition, tugging open the lapels of his coat. Her stomach dropped. He looked especially dapper in his fitted charcoal-gray slacks and crimson button-down with the top two buttons undone. If his sleeves were rolled up under that coat, it was over for her. She couldn’t be held responsible for her actions where exposed forearms were involved. Her libido simply couldn’t take it. Whoever made the rule about them not sleeping together again was delusional, clearly.

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