Page 91 of Making It Burn
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Mason, I want you to let me in.”I turned to face him fully.“We’ve been sneaking around, pretending we’re just co-workers.And I’ve been okay with it because I thought we were building toward something.But lately, it feels like we’re just...stuck.Like we’re never going to move forward.”
“I want to move forward.”Mason stared at his shoes.
“Do you?Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re perfectly content keeping us a secret forever.”I swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”I stepped closer.“We can’t keep doing this, Mason.The hiding, the pretending.Tonight with Paul—that’s just the beginning.People are going to notice.Asking questions.And we need to figure out what we’re going to say when they do.”
“I know,” Mason mumbled.
“So, what do we do?”
Mason looked at me, and for the first time all week, I saw past the careful mask he’d been wearing.I saw fear and longing and something I couldn’t name, all tangled up with the panic that had been there under the mistletoe.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled.“I’m trying to figure it out.”
“Well, figure it out faster.Because I can’t keep doing this.”My voice cracked.“I can’t keep loving someone who won’t let me.”
Mason’s eyes widened.“Beau—”
The terrace door burst open, and Lisa stuck her head out.“Sorry to interrupt, but Patsy is reaming Paul out in front of half the firm!You guys need to come see this.”
I looked at Mason, and he looked at me, and the moment hung between us—heavy with everything we weren’t saying.
“We should go back in,” I said finally.
“Beau, wait.”
“Later, Mason.We’ll talk later.”
I walked past Lisa back into the party, leaving Mason on the terrace.My hands were still shaking, and my chest felt tight, but at least I’d said something.At least I’d stopped pretending everything was fine.
Inside, a small crowd had gathered near the bar where Patsy was speaking to Paul in a low, firm voice that somehow carried across the room.
“—inappropriate and unprofessional,” she was saying.“This is a work event, Paul.Not a fraternity party.You don’t put colleagues in uncomfortable situations for your own amusement.”
“I was just trying to have some fun—”
“At other people’s expense.”Patsy’s voice was ice.“That mistletoe stunt was calculated and mean-spirited, and you know it.Consider this a warning.If I see behavior like that again, we’ll be having a very difficult conversation in my office.”
Paul’s face had gone red.“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.Now go enjoy the party.And Paul?”She waited until he looked at her.“Grow up.”
The crowd dispersed quickly, people suddenly very interested in their drinks or the pianist or literally anything other than Paul’s public dressing-down.Lisa appeared at my side, her eyes bright with satisfaction.
“That was beautiful,” she whispered.“Patsy Hollingsworth is my hero.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, but I was watching Mason slip back into the party through the terrace doors.He caught my eye across the room, and I saw the question there—Are we okay?
I didn’t know.I honestly didn’t know.
* * *
I left the party an hour later, after making enough small talk to avoid suspicion and drinking enough bourbon to feel pleasantly numb.Mason tried to catch my eye several times, but I avoided him.I wasn’t ready to hear whatever he had to say.
Lisa walked me out.“You okay?”
