Page 6 of Damsel in Defense
“Sorry,” I say quickly, brushing my damp hands down my dress like that’ll smooth out the last five minutes.“Still a little wobbly.”
“You’re fine,” he says, though his voice is a bit rougher now.“I just didn’t want to let you fall.”
“You didn’t,” I say, meeting his eyes again.“You caught me.”
His lips tip into a crooked smile.“I tend to do that.”
I want to say something else.I want to ask if he’s staying at the resort, if he’s part of another wedding or just passing through.If maybe—justmaybe—he’d want to see me again.But I don’t.
Because I know better.
This moment—this unexpected, beautiful moment—was exactly what I needed.But that doesn’t mean it’s meant to last.
My world is too full right now.Too messy.I’m still finding my feet after losing Grandma, and I need more time to work through my feelings.
“I should go,” I say again, softer this time.
He nods like he gets it.He knows we’ve reached the end of whatever this was.
“Take care of yourself, Victoria.”
The way he says my name—low, deliberate—it makes me shiver.
“You too, Mason.”
We both hesitate, like maybe the other one will cave and say something more.But neither of us does.
I turn and start walking back toward the path, my steps still a little shaky, more from emotion than dizziness now.I don’t look back.
But I feel him watching me.
And as I reach the edge of the hedges, the sound of the party floats back to me—laughter, music, the soft clink of plates and glasses.The world moves on.
I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders.
Mason was a moment.A beautiful, grounding moment.I can appreciate it for what it was, knowing I’ll probably never see him again.
But somehow…I think that’s okay.
Maybe not everything is meant to last forever.Some things are just meant to remind you that you’re not as alone as you think.
CHAPTER THREE
VICTORIA
It’s barely 7:00 a.m., and I’m tucked in the back of a black car, watching the sun stretch over the horizon.It’s the start of what looks like a picture-perfect day.Except it’s not.
Not for me, at least.
I rub at my tired eyes and sip what’s supposed to be coffee but tastes more like bitter punishment.My phone buzzes in my lap, lighting up with a notification from Cece.
I wince, not wanting to read her text.The ones she sent me at the ass-crack of dawn when she got up for her flight back to LA were enough to last me for a month.
The media, once again, decided to body-check me and send me reeling from yet another blow.
I want to ignore it.I truly do.Yet I know I can’t.Cece is not someone you can ignore.She’ll keep texting until I respond.
CECE:Photo’s gonna hit the press today.Star Spotter has it.
