Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE MAIN EVENT – Everything’s been leading up to this, and it will go either very right… or very wrong.

M ason was on cloud nine. He watched Sawyer finish getting ready in a near reverent silence, the simple act of watching her putz around her bathroom as intimate as anything they’d already done. She kicked him out before she put on her dress, murmuring something about not knowing how sausage was made.

Sawyer was quieter than usual, but he supposed so was he. He liked this quieter version of them equally as much. He wanted to spend all his lazy mornings with her in companionable silence. To come home from a long shoot and do nothing with her. He kept those thoughts to himself, however. Sawyer hadn’t exactly said they were just friends. For maybe the first time ever, she hadn’t pushed that point, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. Whatever she felt comfortable giving was enough. He wasn’t going to rush this time.

He hadn’t told her about calling Kara. She’d always claimed to want no part of that secret list item. Telling Sawyer all the ways he’d screwed up in the past and how he was trying not to repeat those mistakes with her felt like the opposite of not rushing her.

“Get ready, álvarez,” Sawyer called through the door.

He grinned. He liked that she called him that, as if a reminder of who he was, that he could be himself with her.

“So ready,” he called back. He was ready, but was she? Would she let herself be ready? He was fairly certain he wasn’t the only one not saying everything they’d been thinking the past two days, but he had to take Luis and Kara’s advice and wait, to not rush.

That resolution was a hard one to keep when she came out of the bathroom.

“Zip me up?” she asked, spinning around and watching him over her shoulder.

She looked like a glass of champagne, and he wanted to drink every last drop. Her dress was pale gold, with an overlay of crystals that caught the light when she spun around to give him access to the zipper. Besides the corset waist, the fit was loose, her arms covered by billowy sheer sleeves. It would be borderline conservative, if not for the low V in the front and back that had his mouth watering. It took everything in him not to throw his own rules out the window and make them late on purpose.

“Ready, Greene?” he asked.

“So ready,” she echoed.

He tried not to read more into that than he should, repeating Kara’s words in his head like a mantra. Don’t rush, don’t rush, don’t rush.

“What’s your producer’s name again?” Sawyer asked as their driver pulled into the circular driveway in front of the absurdly large house.

“Richard Smalls,” he reminded her.

She turned away from the window to peer back at him, green eyes alight. “Does he ever go by Dick?”

Mason fixed her with a look, already knowing where this was going.

She was still laughing at her unsaid joke when they stepped into the opulently festive foyer, Richard bounding over to greet them before they were even fully out of their coats.

In the dictionary under “smarmy rich white dude,” there was a photo of Richard: watery eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a shellacked comb-over.

“Mason,” Richard said warmly, embracing him and clapping him on the back. Richard wasn’t normally the physically affectionate type, but then Mason spotted the studio execs hovering stiffly beyond him at the bar. Of course.

The cast got together sometimes during the offseason, but this party was a first, and the “attendance is mandatory” was heavily implied. Mason had no doubt that the core cast’s upcoming contract renewals was a major factor in Richard’s sudden change in demeanor. Funny how they suddenly weren’t so “replaceable.”

Mason didn’t have to fake a smile, opting to imagine Richard’s face when he heard Mason was turning down the contract for renewal.

A few members of the production crew arrived, and Mason took the chance to slip away. Slipping an arm around Sawyer’s waist, he guided her over to the bar, promising to catch up with Richard later, though he had no intention of doing so. There was an expected script at work events, and Mason knew very well what role he was supposed to play. Ever since his call with Kara, he couldn’t stop noticing how often he slipped into the role of Mason West. It was exhausting.

He wished he were bringing Sawyer to a wrap party for one of Alissa’s productions instead. He allowed himself to briefly fantasize about a future where Sawyer had sold Why We’re Not Together ’s rights to Guiding Light. At that wrap party, they’d be in jeans and drinking craft beers, Alissa insistent they drink local while on location. He craved that vision of the future with a ferocity that nearly bowled him sideways. They had a snowball’s chance in hell of Sawyer selling her rights—but now was not the time for him to broach that with her. All that mattered right now was she was here with him, and Richard was a dick, so Mason ordered two of the most expensive whiskeys on the back bar.

The little noise of approval Sawyer made when she took her first sip was worth it. Her eyes darted up to his in surprise, as if she hadn’t meant to moan.

He smiled down at her, tucking an errant piece of hair back into her updo. She’d twisted her bangs off to the side, her face on full display. He knew she was wearing more makeup than she usually did, and he couldn’t help but be floored. She’d put in a lot of effort but still looked effortless, letting the dress shine—literally. Her dark red lips pursed in a smirk as he took her in for the millionth time.

“Keep it in your pants, álvarez.”

He let out a strangled laugh. Beyond drinking her in when he’d zipped her up, he hadn’t let his mind wander that far. He’d laid it all out, as best he could, and now… he had to wait. He would wait forever for her to be ready. Well, he’d wait until LA, and then he’d have to get realistic, but for now, for tonight, he could pretend the only countdown that mattered was the one counting down to midnight.

“I take it you’re not upset I didn’t pick the formfitting one you liked?”

He grinned, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “That one didn’t leave much to the imagination, and I’m honored to be the only one here who knows what you look like under that dress, Sawyer Jo.”

Sawyer blushed violently, her green eyes bright. “álvarez,” she chastised. Pulling back, she studied him. “Wait, what’s your middle name?”

“Alexander.”

Sawyer groaned. “Mason Alexander. Are you kidding? Why is your name so hot?”

He smiled down at her. “’Twas my destiny, I suppose.”

She laughed up at him, and he cupped her face with his hand, needing to touch her, to feel her joy as it rippled out of her.

He wanted nothing more than to start the New Year with a kiss from Sawyer. Not for their list, not to ruin it, but to show her why it was a cliché in the first place. He was trying not to rush her, but he wasn’t above reminding her just how fucking good they could be together. He brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, but her lipstick remained immaculate. “Is this kiss-proof?”

The sparkle in her eyes turned molten. “All kinds of smudge-proof,” she confirmed in a low voice that settled somewhere deep inside of him.

Before he could overthink the implication in her voice, he heard his name from across the room. He already knew whom that voice belonged to, and following the sound, he held out his hand to Sawyer. She slid her hand into his, and a thrill shot through him. Given everything they’d done together, how was it that the simple act of holding her hand in a crowded room felt like the height of intimacy? They were doing everything backward. He was barely conscious of the myriad of people who greeted him as they crossed the room toward Bex, his focus solely on the feel of Sawyer’s hand in his.

“Sawyer, what a surprise!” Bex exclaimed, the two of them exchanging air-kisses. “Love your dress.”

“Thanks! It has pockets!” Sawyer did a little hop of excitement, the human equivalent of an exclamation point.

“Mine, too!” Bex said, matching her enthusiasm and shoving one hand in the pocket of her sapphire gown and twirling.

As they devolved into a conversation about a box of books Sawyer had apparently mailed Bex at some point between Christmas and now, Mason leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I’m going to do the obligatory rounds. You good?”

Sawyer barely missed a beat, glancing up at him and nodding. Unable to stop himself, he pressed a kiss into her hair before breaking away, but not before he saw Bex’s eyes widen. He supposed he deserved that, after all their insistence at Christmas that they weren’t dating. He hoped she didn’t give Sawyer too hard a time about it. Nevertheless, he was grateful Sawyer had a friendly face here besides his.

As he made his way around the room, smiling for the studio execs and genuinely laughing with his costars, he kept his head on a swivel. Partially checking in on Sawyer, who was still deep in conversation with Bex and now his costar Davi, and partially keeping an eye out for Kara’s arrival. After their call, he wasn’t nervous about seeing her again, but he would be happy to have it over with. Every eye in the room would be watching them for clues. Having number three and number five on your call sheet break up could alter the entire tone on set—and their production was already tense enough thanks to Richard.

Excusing himself to go to the bathroom, he took a few practiced breaths, wiggling his jaw back and forth to ease the ache in his cheeks from smiling so much. When he returned, he scanned the room, eyes tripping over Bex and Davi whispering conspiratorially in a corner, sans Sawyer. He did another sweep of the room, cursing that she was so short, his attention finally catching on the sparkle of her dress by the bar.

Sawyer, gold chains in her silvery blond hair, smiling over at… Kara.