Page 120 of Not Part of the Plan
Had she made the mistake that everyone else thought she had?Emma worried.
She almost ignored the knock at her door. She didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want to put on a brave face or listen to yet another person tell her that her coping mechanisms made her a coward.
However, her front door had enough glass in it that whoever was knocking had probably already seen her pouting into her bowl. She heaved a defeated sigh and shuffled to the door.
At least she could be certain it wasn’t Nikolai on her doorstep.
She was, however, completely unprepared for the man she did find there. Tall and slim, his blond hair was neatly combed in the style he’d worn since junior high. He stood in his green golf shirt with his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts.
“Mason?”
He rounded his shoulders. “Hey, Emma. I was just in the neighborhood.”
She hadn’t seen him in a year and wondered how it was possible to feel like she was meeting both a stranger and a ghost from her past. “What are you doing here?” She was gaping at him and didn’t know how to stop.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Do you mind if I come in?”
Still dumbfounded, Emma opened the door wider. “Of course, I’m sorry. I’m just… surprised.”
Mason walked past her. Hands still in his pockets he surveyed her living space. “Quite the change from your place in L.A.,” he ventured.
Emma mustered a soft laugh. “That’s an understatement.”
“It seems like a nice town, though,” Mason continued.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Wine?”Perhaps an entire bottle of liquor?
“Water would be great.”
Right, no caffeine after six,Emma remembered. It had been his steadiness, his sense of responsibility that had attracted her to him. He made plans. He followed through. Dating him had been a relief. If he said he made reservations, he had. If he promised to call, he would.
Emma filled a glass with ice and, remembering his preference, added a sliver of lemon.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the glass and drinking deeply.
He looked nervous.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here,” he began.
“Very curious.”
Mason cleared his throat, his brown eyes darting around the room. “I’ve been thinking that we may have made a mistake when we ended things last year.”
Emma, fearing that her knees might give out, sank down on the couch. “What kind of a mistake?”
Mason sat on the opposite end of the couch. “We had a good, solid relationship, and I wonder if letting a move end things for us wasn’t the right choice.”
“I’m not considering a move back to the West Coast,” Emma said gently.
“No, of course not. Your family is here,” Mason shook his head. “I was thinking I could move here, live here, and we could—” he cleared his throat again. “I thought we could get married.”
Emma wasn’t completely clear on what happened, but Mason was suddenly leaning in and staring hard into her eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah. Fine. Sure.”
“Because you haven’t spoken or blinked for a full minute.” He glanced at his watch to verify. “Closer to two minutes.”
