Page 44 of Unromance

Next to her, Bex gulped down the last of her wine before primly wiping the corners of her mouth and gingerly setting the empty crystal on the marble countertop. “Firstly,” she said shakily. “I’m an ass. I thought everyone knew. I’m so sorry. Secondly,” she said more fiercely, earning Mason’s gaze, which clearly conveyed he was a drowning man in need of a lifeline. She gave him a reassuring nod. “When Kara told me, I thought it was brilliant. With Kara leaving to do Marvel, and Nurse Lia and Dr. Santiago’s storylines so integrated, it’s the perfect time for both your characters to exit the show. You’ve been producing on episodes the past two seasons and on Alissa’s productions before that—you’re going to be an amazing producer.”

The way she said it left little room for adverse opinions, which was no doubt her goal. This was Mason’s moment. Sawyer had admittedly had to ask Mason what the hell a producer did, and he’d explained that he’d be in charge of securing funds for the films and managing all the departments and their schedules while Alissa helmed the creative side of things. It was no small job, and Bex had managed to deftly remind everyone that this was bigger than just Mason moving across the country. That this was a good thing for him, and not about them. Sawyer resisted the urge to clap.

“And you better throw some work my way,” she added with levity.

Mason grinned, the tension in the air lessening a fraction. “Obviously.”

“Oh, but you’ll be so far from family!” Lynn crowed. “We just got you back.”

Goddamn it, Lynn.

Sawyer chanced a glance at Moira, whose face was strangely neutral, in what Sawyer could only assume was her own version of PR Face. Sawyer held her breath, waiting for Moira to comment. It was less a conscious choice than it seemed all the air had been sucked out of the room, the tone for the rest of the evening to be determined by which way the pinch at the corner of Moira’s mouth turned.

“He can fly home just like I do,” Bex said pointedly.

“And it’s Christmas,” Luis reminded everyone as he refilled Bex’s wineglass for her. “Time to be selfless and celebrate.” If he was upset that Mason had kept this from him, he hid it well, a good enough friend to have Mason’s back.

“Agreed,” Moira said with a sniff. God, her posture was immaculate. She raised her glass, everyone in the room doing the same. Sawyer raised her tumbler of melted ice obediently. “To Mason robbing Hollywood of all their money.”

Everyone laughed as they clinked glasses and drank deeply. It was so perfectly in sync, Sawyer wouldn’t have been surprised to find someone in the corner holding cue cards.

The conversation moved on, but the tension remained, and Sawyer began to suspect there were more than two actors in this room, that their whole routine of rehashing old bits was a perfectly choreographed dance around conversational eggshells. Mason was avoiding his mother’s gaze like everyone in the room was avoiding the bomb that had just dropped.

This felt much more like the family dinners Sawyer was used to.

Bex mouthed,Sorry!to Mason, and he gave her a smile thatSawyer suspected was supposed to be comforting, but it came out strained.

The timer on the stove dinged softly, and Mason exhaled heavily. “Thank God.”

Antonio pulled the turkey out of the oven, sprinkling herbs over top with a flourish. “Dinner’s ready!”

Luis directed everyone to grab a dish, tossing them potholders and dish towels, effectively keeping everyone too busy to corner Mason. The man was a mastermind. Chairs scraped across the hardwood floors as everyone pushed back, grabbing platters to carry into the adjacent dining room. As the guest, Sawyer wasn’t allowed to carry anything, which was for the best, because as she crossed in front of the bay window, Max pounced.

“Boo!”

She screamed bloody murder and dropped to the floor.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JUST ONCE, TO GET IT OUT OF OUR SYSTEMS– The heroes are convinced their feelings are purely physical and the only solution is to act on them. Once. Just once. The heroes are also probably really bad at math.

Normally, Mason found Max’s shenanigans endearing, but as the kid rolled around on the ground next to a sheet-white Sawyer, he was tempted to join in on Luis’s whispered admonishments, frog-marching his eldest son out of the room. Extending a hand, he guided Sawyer to her feet. His mother, sister, father, Lynn, and Bex all crowded in the archway between the kitchen and dining room, and he waved them off, uncharacteristically annoyed with them as well for hovering.

“Are you alright?” he asked once they were alone. He rubbed her shoulders comfortingly as she fussed with her bangs, pink tinging the tops of her cheeks.

“I’m fine. Just embarrassed,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I knew he was there and he still scared the shit out of me.” She offered him a weak smile, and his chest felt tight. “I’m sorry for making a scene.”

“Don’t apologize—especially not for making a scene. Not in this dramatic-ass family.”

That made her laugh, and the knot behind his rib cage loosened slightly.

“Well, at least I changed the subject,” she said with a grimace. “Areyoualright?”

His hand at her shoulder flexed of its own volition, his jaw aching as he clenched it. “Not how I would have done it, but… it’s done. Thankfully, my mother is too proud to lose face, so I’m spared her making this about her—for now.” He grimaced. He tried not to talk about his mom that way to anyone outside of Luis or Alissa, but he’d never been good at filtering himself around Sawyer. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sawyer nodded, and he was grateful that he could count on her not to push the issue. He didn’t want to talk about it now, not here. He wanted to forget, to enjoy this time with his family, a luxury he’d taken for granted the past few years. Yes, his mother drove him up a wall with her meddling, but he still loved her. While misguided, her efforts were because she loved him—all of them. He would miss being near his family when he left.

Sawyer adjusted her skirt, letting out a small whimper that had his heart jumping into his throat.

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