Chapter 30

30

MASON

M y breath caught in my throat as I stepped into the ballroom at Abigail’s historic mansion on Fifth Avenue. Houses like these always shocked me. Outside, it looked like every other Beaux-Arts, Gilded Era mansion, surrounded by modern skyscrapers and apartment buildings, but inside it was breathtaking.

Gaudy in the best way, a massive crystal chandelier sent sprays of golden light across the ballroom, highlighting the trees fanning the perimeter of the room. A fountain of champagne had a crowd surrounding it, everyone in the holiday spirit only a few days out from Christmas.

People began turning, eyes wide, as I entered the room. They weren’t watching me, though.

Fia took another step into the room, the light catching the beading on her dress. Her cheeks went pink, giving her a rosy glow. Her eyes swept the room before they landed on mine. I took her hand, squeezing her fingers.

“Everyone’s looking at us.”

“They’re looking at you .” I brought her fingers to my lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

She held my gaze, smiling radiantly, and I led us into the party. I could take the credit for finding Fia’s dress. I’d been looking for a gift, something to celebrate our last official public event as a fake couple, and went to the shop, Vivaldi’s, where she’d bought the dress she wore to Deck the Decks. She’d made friends at that shop, apparently, because everyone knew who she was.

I had known the dress was the one the second I saw it. I didn’t bother to even look at the price tag. I was taking it home even if it drained my bank account.

Abigail spotted us from what felt like a mile away, despite her withering eyesight. Dressed in a deep crimson gown, she picked her way over, swinging her cane. She clicked her tongue at me as she looked me up and down, as if surprised by my presence even though she had, in fact, sent me an invitation and one for Fia, as well. Her eyes slid to Fia and lit up. The woman motioned to her dress.

“You look like a Christmas tree in the best way, my dear. Just beautiful.” Again, her eyes slid to mine. “Are you positively sure you’re spending your evening with him?”

Fia roped her arm around mine, beaming. “You must not know Mason very well. He’s the best man in Manhattan.”

Abigail raised a brow, but she finally broke into a smile I hadn’t seen in the years I’d known her. “He does make a mean bottle of whiskey. I’ll say that much.” She looked Fia up and down again, pleased. “Be sure a bottle of your original recipe is delivered by tomorrow morning, Mason. Make an old woman’s holiday.”

“It’s already in your study, Abi,” I told her with a knowing smile.

“Alright,” she said, nodding. “Maybe you are good enough for this fetching young lady.” She winked at me before turning and walking away.

“Have you known her for a long time?” Fia asked as we walked toward the towering Christmas trees. People were starting to hang their ornaments on them, and several waiters had ladders to assist decorating the hard-to-reach branches.

“She was friends with my grandmother. When my grandfather came into the money that took them out of poverty after leaving Scotland, Abigail was one of the only high-society women who accepted Grandma into her circle. I’ve known Abigail all my life.”

“So she doesn’t actually despise you and want to shove me off on one of her grandsons?”

“When she sent the invitation, she told me to make it count. Make it count was the last thing my grandma ever said to me, right after she gave me the family recipe for the whiskey. It was their thing, I guess. Everything they did, they made it count.” My throat felt suddenly dry. I could feel Fia’s gaze on my face, her eyes searching mine.

“You loved your grandma a lot.”

“I did. I do. I miss her this time of year.”

She squeezed my arm before lacing her fingers in mine, her touch warm and grounding like always. A passing waiter stopped to offer us drinks—Abigail’s signature cocktails. Fia chose a gin number with a sprig of holly sticking out of it, while I stuck with my usual. Whiskey, neat.

I wondered if I should bring up the fact that I called her my girlfriend on the phone earlier. I hadn’t said it on purpose, but it felt right. Just like joking around and calling her darling felt right.

The only thing holding me back from taking the plunge was Colin. I hadn’t been able to pin him down. I had three meetings today where he was in attendance, but it was the last day the office was open before the holiday, and he was busy shutting down his department for the week-long break we mandated every year, paid of course.

I was ready to pull Fia aside and lay it all on the line. But I wasn’t going to do anything until I had a chance to talk to Colin first, face to face. Man to man.

I cared about Fia. I cared about her wellbeing, her happiness, and her future. If she wanted to be with me, I was ready. More than ready. I wanted it so bad I could taste it. I had to take care of the Colin situation first. In the best-case scenario, he would be happy for us, not caring at all that I’d fallen in love with his little sister and he would trust I’ll take care of her.

In the worst case, he’d be livid. He’d punch me in the face and confront her about it, ruining her Christmas.

I would rather sit and wait than ruin her favorite holiday of the year, even if it was only a slim possibility.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, sipping her cocktail as her eyes met mine. They glowed every shade of hazel. Smooth golden and rich copper.

“I have something for you.” I reached into my jacket pocket, ignoring the hammering in my chest, and pulled out a small jewelry box. A ring box. Tiffany blue.

Fia’s eyes went wide. “Mason…”

“Open it.” I smiled, cupping her hand in mine and placing the box at the very center of her palm.

“You’re not supposed to propose to me until New Year’s Eve, remember?”

“I’d be down on one knee professing my undying love for you if that were the case,” I said wryly, and she smirked, rolling her eyes to the gilded ceiling before meeting my gaze again. “Just open it.”

She opened the box and went totally, completely still. Inside, on a little plush cushion, was a crystal Christmas ornament in the shape of a vintage camera.

“It reminded me of you.”

She looked up at me. I noticed a shift behind her eyes, gears turning, like she was working through some thought she hadn’t voiced. For a moment, I wondered if I’d made a mistake.

But then her eyes met mine, creasing. “This is for me?”

“To hang on one of the trees. Whichever one you want.”

She nodded, slightly teary eyed, which surprised me. My lips parted to ask if something was wrong, but she shook her head, smiling wetly, and pulled something out of her clutch.

“Wow.” I laughed, taking the tiny, ornamental coffee mug from her hand and inspecting it.

“It reminded me of you and your useless coffee mugs at your apartment.”

“Mine are bigger.”

“Not by a lot.” She laughed, and the light that had vanished a moment ago returned. I was more than grateful for it. “Let’s put them next to each other.”

“All right.” I let her lead me toward the tree she liked best. The shortest one, the most imperfect. She took several minutes to decide where she wanted the camera to go, and when she finally chose a hardy, slightly bent branch, I watched her hang it, hyper focused on her fingers. Smooth, slim fingers. An artist’s fingers. My heart lurched as she turned to me, pride in her eyes. I hung the coffee mug on the branch just beside it, and we stepped back to admire our decorations.

“Excuse me, can I take your picture?”

We turned toward the voice, finding a petite woman with large, tortoise shell glasses peering up at us with a polaroid camera.

“Of course,” I replied, sliding my hand down Fia’s back.

Fia straightened, smiling brightly, and the flash ripped toward us.

“For the lovebirds,” the woman said, shaking out the picture and handing it to Fia.

“Thank you.” Fia smiled at the woman as she walked away, then turned her attention to the developing film. “Aw, look at us. You’d think we were a real couple.”

There it was. My chance to tell her that was exactly what I wanted.

“You blinked,” she groaned, giggling as she handed me the picture. I did, in fact, have my eyes closed.

“We’ll take another one.”

“No, I like this one.” She took the picture back, smiling down at it. “I’m going to frame it.”

“We’ll take real pictures soon. A portrait. You can have it blown up and hang it on your wall.”

“Only if we wear matching denim outfits and have the pictures taken at JC Penney’s.”

“I was thinking more Renaissance.”

“Of course you were.” She threw her head back in a laugh. She looked so beautiful and I was losing my will to hold back, to do this the right way, especially when she smiled.

A dance started in the center of the ballroom. Couples moved to a slow, jazz rendition of Santa Baby, which seemed to play repeatedly at every event we’d attended together. I took her hand. “Do you want to dance?”

“Yeah.” Her smile worked its way to the marrow of my bones.

We were on the dance floor in a few short steps. I placed my hands on her lower back and hip. She knitted her fingers against the back of my neck as we stepped side to side, gently swaying to the music.

“I love this song.” She smiled, briefly closing her eyes.

“I know. You light up every time you hear it.”

“Do you notice everything?” she asked.

“I notice little things. Like how your nose crinkles when you smile, but only if you’re teasing me.”

She crinkled her nose in emphasis.

“Yeah, just like that.” I paused. “You like sweets. So much. More than the average person.”

“My dentist hates to see me coming.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure he loves you. You’ve probably funded his vacations to Aspen every year.”

She playfully swatted my chest. I took her hand, knitting our fingers.

“I loved watching you take my picture in the distillery. Seeing you focused like that was… I can’t even describe it. You were radiant. Passionate. I’ve never seen that look in your eyes before.”

“Did you—” She cut herself off, hesitating for a moment. “Did you notice that look when you came over the other day, when I was working on preparations for Heather’s party?”

It was an odd question, and her inflection sounded slightly frantic. I thought back, shaking my head. “No. That was different. You’re just a vision behind the lens. That’s what I meant. I could watch you take pictures all day.”

I noticed the way her body slouched and wondered if I hadn’t been imagining things when I’d given her the camera ornament. “Is everything all right, Fia?

“Yeah, I’m just…” She looked up at me, sighing. “Mason, this is technically our last event together.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want it to be,” she said.

“It doesn’t have to be.” I should just tell her. I should tell her I was falling head over heels in love with her with each passing second, and for some reason, a lifetime together didn’t seem like enough time.

“Is this real, between us?”

“I think it’s always been real,” I told her, meaning it. The words came from a place deep in my soul, a place no one else had ever touched. I bent my head, brushing a kiss to her cheek, finding a single tear there. “This is real for me, Fia.”

“Me too,” she whispered, laying her cheek against my chest.