Chapter 21

Leah

If I could just wipe this dopey, lovey-dovey, freshly fucked smile off my face, that would be great. But I can’t. And I really don’t even want to. Is it preposterous to feel like we’ve been together forever?

I don’t even know his middle name.

Hooking my arm with Mason’s, I lead him down the sidewalk and no matter how many guesses he makes, I refuse to tell him where I’m taking him. Three blocks down and around the corner is a bakery I passed earlier this morning.

“Here we go!” I open the door and sweep my arm. “After you.”

“Thanks.”

I beeline to the display of colorful cupcakes. “Pick your poison.” Practically pressing my face against the glass, I eye fuck every single one of these delicious treats. “Vanilla, chocolate, coconut.” I look over at him, suddenly terrified. “Please don’t tell me you’re a carrot cake man.”

Mason laughs. “What’s wrong with carrot cake?”

“Veggies do not belong in sweets.” I shiver dramatically. “I’m still traumatized from the time my mother snuck zucchini into our brownies one summer.”

“Chocolate,” Mason says. “The darker, the better.”

Perfect . I knew he had good taste.

“Excuse me, may we have that one right there?” I tap the glass directly over a row of decadent looking cupcakes with shaved chocolate curls and edible gold leaf flakes on top.

The employee carefully boxes the treat in a pink container and rings us up. “That’s seven dollars.”

I tap my credit card and grab the box. “Thank you. Have a nice day!”

Mason follows me out of the bakery, and I clasp his hand, swinging it happily while we walk down the street. I take him over to a shaded bench and plop down first. Presentation is key when you have a cupcake, so I carefully dig it out of the box and hold it gingerly in my hands. The sucker is big and heavy and smells like a glucose overdose.

“Wait. What’s your middle name?”

“Why?”

“I need to know.”

Mason rubs the back of his neck. “Elijah.”

“Cheers to you, Mason Elijah Finch.” I raise the cupcake to his face. “May this be the beginning of many more successes to come your way.”

I can’t read the look on his face. Maybe what I’ve said surprises him. Maybe he’s wondering why I’m making this dramatic and silly toast. Maybe he thinks he should have gone with vanilla.

“Thank you, Leah.” A big, wonderful smile spreads across his handsome face.

We stare at each other for an awkward moment, silence like a blanket resting comfortably over us.

“Lick it.”

Without asking why, Mason sticks his tongue out and drags it across the top, gathering a bunch of the gold foil and chocolate onto it. Some of the shavings fall on his lap and suit. He chuckles, brushing it off. “Why did I have to lick it?”

“You didn’t,” I shrug. “I just like watching you use your tongue for things.”

Mason’s laugh is so loud it startles the elderly couple crossing the road. “Are you obsessed with this thing, Princess?” Mason hooks his finger into the corner of his mouth, pulling it back and sticking his tongue all the way out. The curvature of it is impressive. Obscene. When Mason flicks the tip of his tongue in slow motion, my pussy clenches because I know exactly how talented that thing is. This man could give Venom a run for his money.

“Your turn, Princess.” He drags his finger through the icing, then holds it up to my lips. I make a lovely show of drawing it into my mouth to suck it clean.

“Christ, you are perfection.”

“Because I’m so sexy?”

“Because you’re so real .” He leans back and peels the cupcake wrapper away. Breaking the treat in half, he hands the larger half over to me. “You live so carefree, Leah. It’s inspiring.”

“Yeah well, you get one life to live, so I’m living it.” We sit back and devour the dessert. “My parents were very strict with me and my sisters growing up.”

“You have two sisters, right?”

“Yup. I’m the oldest.”

“I’m the oldest too. Fucking sucks, right? We somehow have to be role models for them when we really need role models for ourselves.”

“Ugh. Yeah. I’m the fix it sister. If there’s a problem, Leah will fix it. If they need money, Leah will send it.” I don’t mind helping when I can, but sometimes it’s a strain on me. “I love my sisters, though. I’d do anything for them.”

“You guys close?”

I lick the icing off my thumb. “We live in different parts of the country. Once we turned eighteen, we each hightailed it out of our house. My youngest sister, Bex, moved to New York and lives with two roommates in a tiny apartment. My other sister, Aly, is a DJ who travels a lot. We see each other on holidays, but that’s about it.”

I miss them.

“Does your mom know about your camgirl hustle?”

Mason sounds like he’s concerned for me. Like if my mom or dad found out about this big taboo secret, they’d be disgusted.

“Yeah.” I swipe more icing onto my finger and lick it off. “I told her about Daisy Ren last year after she freaked out trying to understand how I was able to afford plane tickets to her house, on top of paying Bex’s portion of her rent for a few months, and also getting Aly some equipment she needed. I wanted to keep my side gig a secret from her, but in the end, I came out with it. She was shocked at first, but eventually got on board. She’s pretty open-minded, actually.”

“And your dad?”

“He doesn’t have a clue. I doubt he’d care, anyway. When my parents got divorced, it was probably the best thing to ever happen to us.” Unlike most of my friends, whose parents split up and they were sad about it, my sisters and I were relieved. “He treated my mom badly. She worked two, sometimes three jobs, and he was perpetually unemployed. He always talked down to her and made her feel like trash when really, he was the hot garbage in the house.”

Mason looks stricken. “I’m so sorry you were in an environment like that.”

“Meh. It could have been worse. At least he never hit her.” Mason looks horrified at my words. I don’t blame him. The potential for disaster is the reason I think I’ve never been serious with someone before. Spend your childhood with a father who treats your mom like shit, and some part of you becomes wired to expect all men to treat you that way.

My mom said she kicked him out because she refused to raise her daughters in a house with a man like that. Sadly, the damage had already been done and I’ve never let a man into my life for longer than a night or two.

Mason shakes his head. “I can’t imagine treating a woman with so little respect.”

I can’t picture Mason doing that either.

“The day she kicked him to the curb, we had a big party. It was the best night ever. My mom ordered food from all our favorite restaurants, and we blasted nineties hip hop so loud, the cops were called.” I’ll never forget how she answered the door wearing a glittery pink party hat. The cops let her off with a warning and we went right back to partying until we fell asleep in a big blanket fort in the living room. “She showed me what freedom was.”

“Does that freedom include coming out to California on a whim with a rich guy you just met?”

“Yup.” I pop the rest of the cupcake in my mouth. “Even if it means being terrified on a plane to get to him.”

Mason kisses the top of my head.

We sit together for a few moments, people watching, then he says, “My parents hold the purse strings to our trust funds. My grandparents put in so many stipulations, it got exhausting to meet expectations just to get money out of it.”

“That sucks. I thought when you turned eighteen or twenty-one or whatever that you just get it all.”

“Not with us.” He stretches his arm across the back of the bench, and I lean against him. “They tell us what our careers will be, where to have our primary residence, who we have to marry.”

“Holy hell.”

“It’s crazy what people will do when there’s a lot of money on the line.”

“I guess so, but that’s awful. So, you didn’t want to go to Yale?”

He exhales loudly. “I didn’t even want to go to college. I wanted to be a baseball player.”

I can just imagine Mason in a white uniform on a baseball diamond. “The next Bambino?”

He groans. “I would never have been that legendary. But man, did I want to run bases and travel and be part of a team.” Mason plays with my hair like it brings him comfort. “I wasn’t even allowed to play in little league. Baseball was so far from my realm of existence it was a complete fantasy with no hope of ever coming true.”

Hearing the sadness in his voice cracks my heart down the middle. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still, I’m sorry. You probably never got to be a kid.”

“It wasn’t all struggle and strife. I had my grandfather on my dad’s side. He’s the one who took me to games. So even if I couldn’t play ball, I still got to feel the magic of it.”

“From the sidelines.”

“I didn’t care. I loved it.”

A spontaneously wonderful idea pops into my head. “How much time do we have before dinner?”

He glances at his watch. “Two and a half hours.”

“Good.” I yank out my phone and start googling. “Will you take me somewhere right now?”

“Absolutely. Where do you want to go, Princess?”

“You’ll see.” I stand up and grab his hand again, leading him back to the hotel so we can get his car.