Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE NEW YEAR’S EVE KISS – The tradition comes from the Romans, who believed not kissing someone at midnight would beget a year of loneliness. So no pressure.

I t was nearly midnight by the time they reached Fred’s roadside diner, and Mason couldn’t think of a better way to ring in the New Year than with Sawyer, a stack of waffles, a plate of greasy bacon, and a stomach full of stolen champagne.

Maybe it was the champagne, but he wasn’t as worried as he should be about being recognized. They had the place largely to themselves, most people still out at parties. In a few hours, Fred’s would be full of drunk partygoers in need of grease and carbs to soak up the alcohol in their systems. He was having too much fun to worry about that right now. All he could think about was how he wanted to preserve this moment—this feeling—forever.

“What are you doing?” Sawyer said around a giggle.

He slid off the stool, shrugging on his coat. “Stay here,” he instructed, placing a quick kiss against her lips. God, what a luxury it was to casually kiss Sawyer Greene.

“Okay,” she said, giggling again—she had barely stopped since they finished the bottle of champagne.

Slipping out the front door, he took a few steps back, sliding his phone from his pocket and lining up his shot.

Fred’s wasn’t a fancy place. Glass windows wrapped around the front, providing a clear view of the bar, the line of swiveling stools, the massive greasy flattop beyond it. Sawyer smirked at him over her shoulder. He snapped his photo.

It was slightly fuzzy, but it was the perfect encapsulation of the moment. Sawyer’s half smile, her sparkly gold gown spilling over the cracked green leather barstool, looking like… Mason frowned, trying to find the right words in his drunken haze. Like a guiding light. He shook his head. No, that was the production company. But the longer he watched Sawyer, the dull lighting of Fred’s catching and refracting off her with the barest of her movements, the phrase settled deep into his gut, like the answers to all his unanswered questions were right in front of him. Diagnostics . Guiding Light. Sawyer Greene.

He was still standing there, dumbfounded, when Fred himself dropped off their food.

Sawyer glanced back, raising a brow at him before grabbing a fork and digging in.

God, he loved her so much.

When Luis first suggested it—that he was falling in love with her—it caught him off guard. It was like a puzzle piece he’d been trying to slot into place for years, in all the wrong places, and he’d finally— finally —gotten it right, sliding it into place without even trying. Watching her face light up as she dug into a chocolate chip waffle, knowing he got to be the one sharing that waffle…

As soon as he took his spot next to her, she held out her fork, bite of waffle ready for him. With her other hand, she polished off a strip of bacon in two bites.

He moaned as he chewed, satisfaction that only chocolate and carbs could provide coursing through him.

One of the other groups in the diner got up, turning on the volume of the muted TV at the other end of the bar. One minute until midnight. As the ball began to drop, the other diners began to chant, counting down. Sawyer simply smiled, alternating bites of waffle and bacon, like nothing of consequence was happening. Like Mason wasn’t falling in love with her in a crappy diner. It felt both like a monumental moment and the most normal thing in the world.

When the countdown reached the final seconds, Sawyer wiped her mouth on her napkin, leaning in to kiss him as the clock struck midnight. Cheers erupted around the room, and Mason pulled her in closer, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue. She smiled, her lips parting for him. She tasted sweet like champagne and chocolate waffles, smoky like whiskey and bacon, the best of both worlds.

“Happy New Year.” She gave him a quick kiss, leaning back before he could pull her in for another kiss.

“Y’know,” he said thoughtfully, spearing a square of waffle with his fork. “I never got all the hype before, but I think New Year’s might be my new favorite holiday.”

Sawyer eyed him over the rim of her water glass, raising her brows slowly. “Even more than Christmas?”

A smile spread slowly across his face, warmth pooling at the base of his spine as he remembered how his Christmas had ended. It paled in comparison to having Sawyer with him now, trying to build something together. “Even more than Christmas,” he confirmed. Dropping her off at her apartment that night had been nearly impossible. He’d wanted to follow her up, to spend the night, but he couldn’t do that back then. “Could I ask you something?”

She watched him warily out of the corner of her eye, and he couldn’t wait to fully earn her trust, to soothe the jagged edges left behind by those who had come before him. She nodded jerkily, her attention back on her food as she dragged a waffle square through syrup.

“I know spending the night is a thing for you, so you can say no, but—” He brought her free hand to his mouth, his lips brushing her wrist. “I want to wake up to you.” His teeth scraped over her pulse point, making it jump. “To start my days with you.” He placed one last kiss to the inside of her wrist. “When you’re ready.”

“Okay,” she said simply, like it was settled. She stroked his cheek affectionately before turning her attention back to their syrup-soaked waffles.

He didn’t have the slightest idea if she meant “okay” she’d let him know when she was ready, or “okay” she’d spend the night. He was trying not to rush her—he’d already gotten more than he’d dared hope for—but he trusted Sawyer wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do. He would let her set the pace.

So, after paying their tab and leaving a generous tip for Fred, Mason ordered a rideshare. He handed his phone to her to put in their destination. Her green eyes glowed in the yellow light from Fred’s, smiling softly as she tapped Mason’s home preset.

The drive back to his apartment was painfully slow. The view from his Mag Mile apartment was beautiful, but getting there on holidays was a nightmare. Drunk partygoers jaywalked everywhere, Mason and Sawyer’s car inching along. When they were only a few blocks away, Mason looked over at Sawyer, and she nodded sleepily in agreement.

“We’ll walk from here,” he told their driver. He left them a generous tip, too, for their trouble.

Sawyer picked up her dress as they walked so it wouldn’t drag through whatever miscellaneous liquids were making the sidewalks wet today. They made it one block before Mason paused.

“Climb on,” he said, jerking his head behind him.

She looked at him like he was ridiculous before grinning giddily. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hopped up. He hooked his arms under her legs—with difficulty, there was a lot of dress to finagle—and hoisted her higher, which made her cry out in alarm.

“I got you,” he said softly.

She kissed the side of his head before nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. “I know.”

If Luther, the building’s doorman, thought they were a weird sight—Mason in his suit with a sparkly Sawyer on his back, rolling in at one in the morning—he didn’t show it. He simply nodded in greeting, opening the door for them before calling the elevator.

Once inside, Sawyer made to hop down, but he leaned back, pressing her against the back wall, letting it hold her weight while they ascended. She squealed, swatting at his shoulders, her laughter devolving into snorts as they reached his floor.

“My keys are inside my coat pocket,” he told her as he carried her down the hall.

“Okay,” she said around a hiccuping laugh. “Which pocket?” she asked, shoving her hands inside his coat. Her palms brushed across his chest, roaming down, her nails scraping across his abs.

“Not a pocket,” he groaned as her hand brushed along his waistband.

She giggled, pinching his nipples instead.

He couldn’t help but laugh. She was simultaneously the most filthy and silly person he’d ever met. She took his earlobe between her teeth and tugged as her hand slid inside his coat pocket, tickling his ribs through the silk lining.

When they reached his door, he still didn’t let her down, bending at the waist so she could unlock the door. They were both laughing so hard, it was a feat he managed not to topple over. He wasn’t sure what was so funny, except now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop, all the happiness from the past few hours pouring out of him in a rumble of laughter.

After much fumbling of his keys, they finally made it inside. Mason let go of her legs, and she slid from his back in a hiss of fabric. Gently, she spun him around, pulling him up against her. He pressed a kiss to her still-laughing mouth, walking her backward so he could press her up against the wall. She sighed against his lips, sagging against him.

“Mason,” she breathed.

He hummed against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the column of her throat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think I can have sex.”

He leaned back slightly. “I’m so full,” he admitted.

“Me, too,” she laughed.

He kissed her forehead, letting his hand drop from her hair to tangle his fingers with hers, pulling her behind him to his bedroom. He took his time helping her out of her dress, placing kisses everywhere, so in love with the way she watched him, the emotions she couldn’t say aloud so clear in her eyes. He eased nearly a hundred bobby pins from her hair, gently untangling the gold chains Celia had gifted her, before he massaged her scalp. Sawyer went completely limp against him.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Bed’s right there,” he said with a nod toward it.

Sawyer straightened. “Not yet, I gotta—” She gestured to her face full of makeup.

While she showered, he grabbed water and aspirin for them both, knowing the champagne that had made them feel so light was going to bring them right back down tomorrow. He grabbed a shirt for her, placing it next to the water and aspirin on the bathroom counter for her. He was fairly certain she didn’t like to sleep naked. That, and he selfishly wanted to see her in one of his shirts.

She did not disappoint. Coming around to his side of the bed, wearing only his shirt, she straddled his lap, taking a long sip of water.

“Should’ve talked you into that second nightstand,” she said with a smirk. Leaning forward, she placed her glass on his nightstand, smothering his face with her chest.

“I see no flaws with this system,” he said, his voice muffled as he nuzzled his face deeper.

She laughed, threading her fingers through his hair and tilting his face back so she could plant a kiss on his smiling mouth. “But fuck IKEA. We’re ordering one online,” she promised with a quick kiss before crawling off him and sliding under the covers. He sidled up behind her, burying his face in her neck, relishing the way his shampoo and body wash smelled on her, the way “we” sounded coming from her lips.

“Good night, Sawyer Jo,” he murmured into her neck before settling onto the pillow behind her.

She pulled his arm tighter around her waist. “Goodnight, álvarez.”

Spending the night or getting a second nightstand might not seem like a big deal, but Mason knew, for Sawyer, it might be the grandest gesture of all. With the right person, the most ordinary moments became grand.

If he weren’t already lying down, he’d swoon.

Pressing a kiss into her hair, he’d never felt so content. It took all of his self-control not to tell her how much he loved her.