Page 81 of Unromance

“Itis, though, Mason. This is my career! You don’t get to meddle with it! How would you feel if I went behind your back to push you to make the career choice that I thought was best? That’s what your mom did to you for years, right?”

Mason blinked as if she’d slapped him. Maybe pulling the Mom Card was a bit of a low blow, but she’d read between the lines of all the things he hadn’t said about the early years of his career, the indie films he’d done to put distance between him and Moira’s helicoptermom–ing. He glanced around warily, their mostly hushed argument having drawn the attention of more than a few people at this point.

“Could we go back to my place and talk about this?” he asked in an undertone.

Sawyer scoffed, nearly choking on the panic clawing its way up her throat. “How long?”

“What?”

Sawyer tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it had taken up residence there, started paying rent. “How long have you known Alissa was pursuing my book’s rights?”

Mason swallowed thickly. “After Celia’s.”

A memory bubbled to the surface. Hangover brunch, when Beau asked about aWhy We’re Not Togethermovie and Mason had been so uncharacteristically fidgety. Suddenly, it all made sense. She could understand not telling her at brunch, but after? It had been weeks. He’d known for weeks and not told her, actively chosen not to tell her every time she asked him how things were going with Guiding Light.

“Mason? Mason West?”

They both flinched, remembering they were in public. A petite brunette woman in a very expensive-looking cream coat stood a few feet away, a hesitantly hopeful look on her face. Her friend hovered a few steps behind her, pretending not to be watching as she scrolled through her phone with a manicured finger.

Mason’s face changed in an instant, PR Face slamming into place. “Hi.”

The woman let out a girlish squeal before bounding over. Sawyer turned and stormed off. She didn’t care if it was petty. She wasn’t going to stand there and take pictures of them with Mason’s stupidly beautiful, smiling face when she wanted to scream at him.

She hoped walking would calm her down, but the pounding of her boots against the pavement—well, half pounding, half squelching—only incensed her further. She could excuse sending Alissa the book—they hadn’t known each other then, but since? Heknewhow she felt about selling her film rights. He’d known and decided not to tell her. Over and over again, he’d chosen to say nothing. All this time, she thought he’d been so gracious about her chaotic schedule, but what if it was all just to butter her up, to woo her into giving him the rights?

Sawyer hadn’t realized where she’d been walking until she pulled up short outside of Mason’s apartment building. The sweet doorman smiled warmly at her.

“Good day, Miss Sawyer. I’m afraid Mr. West just left.”

“I know.” She exhaled heavily. “Thanks, Luther. I’m not—”

“Ah! Never mind, here he comes now.”

Sawyer whipped around as Mason jogged across the street, eyes locked on her. She was fairly certain he was attempting to smile pleasantly, but it looked more like a grimace. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one whose mood hadn’t improved with a walk.

“Seriously, Sawyer? You justleft?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she simpered. “Did you need me to play photographer for you and your hot moms fan club?”

Luther cleared his throat awkwardly, opening the lobby door for them.

Mason placed a hand at her elbow to guide her inside. She childishly wrenched it from his grasp, storming inside without waiting for him.

“Sawyer,” he sighed. “This argument is stupid.”

“Oh? My feelings about how you went behind my back and meddled in my career are stupid?”

He ran a hand over his face roughly. “No, I—I said that wrong. Of course it’s not. I went about it wrong, but this wouldn’t be like last time—”

“That’s just it, Mason,” she fumed. “You think you know, but you don’t. It’s not that they just changed a few things about my book and my ego was too big to handle it, they—” Sawyer’s eyes stung and she blinked furiously, even angrier with herself that she was seriously going to cry right now.

“I know, Sawyer,” he pleaded. “I know what they did, which is why I wanted to make sure we could give you everything you needed to feel comfortable doing this before telling you. Alissa wants to cowrite the script with you. We’d make you an executive producer. You’d have veto power over any changes you don’t like. You could stay with me in LA—”

Her heart was in her throat, suffocating her. It would be foolish not to take this offer. But this wasn’t part of her plan. Hell, she didn’thavea plan beyond her deadline, her entire future hinging on whether or not she could salvage her career. The mere thought of one more thing to juggle made her want to sink to the floor and dissolve into a puddle. She felt backed into a corner, backed into a future she hadn’t signed up for.

“You make it sound so simple,” she said hollowly. “Sell my rights, pack up my life, follow you to La-La Land. What if this doesn’t have the happily ever after you hoped? Then what? I’ve sold my rights to my ex?”

“Why do you assume it’s not going to work out?”

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