Page 65 of Beautifully Messy
He’s already waiting, meeting my gaze. The man who saw me broken and raw this morning and didn’t flinch. There’s no caution in his eyes now. I’m met with the same unwavering intensity that’s unraveled me more times than I can count. My heart stirs, wild and untamed, recognizing where it wants to land.
“Syd.” Mason touches my forearm. “I have something for you.”
My stomach sinks. We hadn’t discussed gifts, and I don't want one…here.
He pulls a small box from his pocket. “It’s nothing big, but... I saw it in a little shop when I ran into town yesterday. Thought you might like it.”
Inside the velvet box rests a gold necklace. A pendant—the letterM—glints mockingly. I look down at the bracelet Margaret gave me last year, the one with my name carved on it as a reminder that I’m still me beneath the layers of motherhood and obligations. The one I’ve worn everyday since.
This… is the opposite.
“Is the letter M for mom?”
“Or Mason.” He smiles. “Here, let me.”
He leans down to grab the necklace, gently moving my hair toward my shoulder and kissing the back of my neck. I flinch as tiny little spiders spread across my skin but he doesn’t notice. When I look up under my lashes, James watches. His jaw is clenched, fists tightening at his sides, before directing his gaze out the window.
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t expect anything.”
The necklace feels heavy against my skin, a collar I never asked for. I look over my shoulder to thank him, but Mason’s not looking at me. He’s watching James staring out the window. A hard set to his eyes willing James to turn. To see.
It hits me like a physical blow.
He hasn’t been blind after all. This isn’t a lovingly selected gift or a peace offering. It’s a message. How long has he been watching? How many glances has he catalogued? How many moments has he filed away as evidence?
Anna walks over, arms raised. “Pan’kes?”
“Yeah, Bug. Let’s go help Grandma make pancakes.”
Jules jumps up, snaking her arm through mine. “What a nice necklace.”
“Please, not right now,” I plead.
But as I move toward the kitchen, the necklace tightens with every breath. I catch my reflection in the window. My red lips stare back. The pendant gleams against my skin.
I press my fingers to it.
Wrap them tight. And pull.
***
Annasettlesforanap, and I seize the quiet. I grab my laptop to check a few emails for work, then plan to escape into a book—a little solitude in the sunroom before dinner. My hand settles on the grain as voices float through the opening. I hesitate and snatch my hand to my chest.
Mason. And Ivy.
I shouldn’t listen, shouldn’t invade their privacy. But I don’t move, not when I hear my name mentioned.
“How are things with you and Syd?” Ivy’s voice is light, but there’s an edge beneath the words; a question she’s not asking.
Mason sighs. “We’re fine. Why do you ask?”
“She’s been off lately. Last year, this past summer. Last night. She hasn’t seemed like herself.”
A long pause—the kind that tightens your stomach before the answer even comes.
“Do you have a point, Ivy?”
