Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE L-WORD – Once it’s been said, it can’t be unsaid. Better hope it was said at the right time, and not, say, in the middle of an argument. That would be tragic.

T he two weeks after New Year’s passed in a blur. Sawyer’s editor had accepted her book proposal, and Sawyer was glued to her laptop, unable to shake the fear that if she slowed down or took a day off, the creative well would get up and walk out.

Her protagonists had fallen back in love and everything was going well for them, but the journey wasn’t over yet. Sawyer could feel her fingers typing slower by the day, wanting to live in this moment of bliss with them forever. She didn’t want to write the big finale fight. She knew if she could get past it, they’d be happy, but the fight she had planned for them was going to hurt, and right now, Sawyer didn’t want to hurt, because she was happy—mostly.

Ever since brunch at Lily’s, she’d done her best to squash the anxiety that at any moment, the other shoe was going to drop. They’d gone out with Lily and Beau a few times. First, to kick off their potato bracket—Tater Tots had beaten hash browns, much to Beau’s dismay—and again last weekend, putting Lily and Beau’s endless energy to use at the álvarez family tamale party. Sawyer’s tiny freezer was now positively packed with tamales and menudo. Things were going well, but when things got quiet, Sawyer couldn’t keep the doubt from creeping in.

Mason was gearing up for Diagnostics to resume shooting, and was spending an exorbitant amount of time at the gym with Luis to “erase the sins of Christmas past.” When he wasn’t doing that, he was in meeting after meeting with Alissa discussing Guiding Light. The announcement that Mason was joining the production company had created a lot of buzz, due in part to the simultaneous announcement that he was leaving Diagnostics . Thankfully, the press seemed to have come around to Team Mason, no doubt in the hopes that they’d be the ones to get the scoop on Guiding Light’s first project.

Mason was even keeping tight-lipped about their first project with Sawyer, only teasing her with the hint that they might be switching the lineup, if Alissa got her way—which, according to Mason, she usually did.

Their schedules had become increasingly difficult to align, but Mason never complained. Not even when she’d paused on her way out the door to go see him to jot down a plot point and ended up skipping their date to write late into the night. She’d made it up to him with phone sex later, both of them too tired to travel half an hour across town to the other’s apartment. At least, she told herself it was just exhaustion in his voice, and not that he was growing to resent her unpredictable writing bouts. Mason wasn’t Sadie, and she was trying, but it didn’t negate the fact that she needed to finish this book, needed to get paid, needed to get her life back in the black for the first time in years. She was juggling more than she had in years, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before she dropped something.

She hadn’t seen him in three days—which was nothing, really, and she felt ridiculous griping about it, even inside her own head. It would be nothing—if she had been busy. After that late-night writing sprint, she’d hit a wall. With her deadline fast approaching, she couldn’t afford to be stuck, and she’d been stuck for two days.

She wasted an hour whining about writer’s block to her writer friends, but when she reopened her manuscript, it had the audacity to have not written itself while she was on social media. She spent the next hour alternating between staring at the blinking cursor and writing nothing—or writing something and immediately deleting it. Accepting that today would be another wash, she caved and called Mason. If her creative well was empty, she had to refill it.

“Hello, muse,” she purred.

He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been a muse before. I’m honored.”

“Get me out of my apartment, please. I don’t care where, or what, I just don’t want to decide.”

Mason hummed thoughtfully, the line going quiet as he typed something into his phone. “Okay. I just got back from the gym, so I need to shower first. Meet me at Michigan and Illinois?”

Resisting the urge to ask him what they were doing, she agreed and was on the train in a flash. Mason had the day off today, but he hadn’t pressured her to make plans with him, knowing she would reach out once she hit her word count for the day. Maybe this thing with Mason could work after all.

Her optimism was quickly dampened when she stepped off the train and into a puddle, snow sludge and wet garbage soaking through her left boot and sock. Swearing, she tugged her phone from her pocket as she felt it buzz.

“Tess!” she answered in surprise. What day was it? Did she have a call scheduled with her and forget?

“Hi, hi!” her agent said cheerily. “Sorry to call out of the blue, but I have good news. Got a minute?”

“For good news?” Sawyer laughed. “I always have time for good news. Especially right now.” She shook a piece of wet garbage off her boot.

“Okay.” Tess took a deep breath, and despite her claim that it was good news, Sawyer couldn’t help but feel like Tess was bracing for impact. “So, we have an offer—”

Sawyer screamed, dancing in a small circle on the train platform, not caring how many people were now staring at her. “They want another book?!”

“Er—no. Someone wants to buy your film rights—”

“No,” Sawyer said flatly. She took a soggy step over to the platform railing. She’d fought the studio when they’d changed the ending to Almost Lovers , when they had her main character reconcile with her homophobic parents. She’d lost the fight. It wasn’t personal, they said, but it sure as shit felt personal. As if her character couldn’t have a happily ever after without it. She hated the message it sent to her readers, to her .

If the only thing she could control was her books, her words, then she would cling to them with everything she had. She wouldn’t make the mistake of letting someone else have control again.

The line went silent, and Sawyer knew Tess was pinching her brow the way she did when praying for patience. “I told them that already, but she requested to speak to you directly, and I know what you’re going to say,” Tess cut her off. “But this wouldn’t be like Almost Lovers , Sawyer. Alissa really seems to love the book and wants to adapt it, true to the source.”

Every muscle in Sawyer’s body locked up. “I’m sorry. What studio did you say?”

“I didn’t. It’s a small company called Guiding Light,” Tess hedged hopefully. “They’re new—brand new, actually, but they’ve got Alissa Moreno at the helm, and she’s got plenty of films under her belt.”

The train screeched away from the platform, and Sawyer stared blankly off into space. “Alissa Moreno, huh?”

A navy beanie came into view over the steps to the train platform, Mason’s tall frame following.

Sawyer’s jaw clenched. “Thanks, Tess. I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” Tess said in surprise. Then, apparently thinking better of it: “Of course. Take all the time you need. Have a good weekend, Sawyer.”

“You, too,” she said numbly before disconnecting the call.

Mason walked over to her slowly, brows knitting together as he saw the tight set of her features. “Everything okay?”

Sawyer laughed, though there was no humor in it. “That was Tess. Some new production company wants the rights to Why We’re Not Together .”

He came to a halt half a step in front of her. She was fairly certain a flicker of panic crossed his face. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Guiding Light.” Definite flicker of panic. “Ever heard of it?”

Mason sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he tugged off his beanie, running a hand through his too-long hair roughly. “Sawyer,” he said apologetically.

“You knew, didn’t you?” She already had the answer to her question, but she wanted him to admit it. Production companies were still a bit confusing to her, but Mason was too integral to the project to not know.

Meeting her gaze, he nodded slowly, twisting his beanie between his hands. “May I explain?”

Sawyer forced herself to look away, glaring off to the side. “How did Alissa come across my book?”

“I sent it to her—on an impulse,” Mason rushed out. “After we first met and I read all your books. I stayed up until one in the morning to finish it because I couldn’t put it down. I could see it all so clearly in my head. It was like reading a movie. As soon as I finished, I bought a second copy, shipping it to Alissa. I didn’t know you yet. I didn’t know how you felt about protecting your film rights.”

“And once you did… did you know she was going to offer?”

Once again, he nodded, grimacing.

“And you still didn’t tell me?”

“Sawyer—” His voice broke. “I wanted you to hear her out, and I wanted her to have that chance.”

“And you think I wouldn’t if you’d asked? You thought it was best to go behind my back, surprise me, get my agent involved, give her one more thing to be disappointed in me for?” She took a steadying breath. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but the hysteria was kicking in. All the panic and all the fears that she’d been repressing were bubbling to the surface like a physical force, like vomit. She swallowed thickly. She was not going to panic-vomit-comet on this train platform.

“Sawyer, that’s not it at all—”

“It is , though, Mason. This is my career! You don’t get to meddle with it! How would you feel if I went behind your back to push you to make the career choice that I thought was best? That’s what your mom did to you for years, right?”

Mason blinked as if she’d slapped him. Maybe pulling the Mom Card was a bit of a low blow, but she’d read between the lines of all the things he hadn’t said about the early years of his career, the indie films he’d done to put distance between him and Moira’s helicopter mom–ing. He glanced around warily, their mostly hushed argument having drawn the attention of more than a few people at this point.

“Could we go back to my place and talk about this?” he asked in an undertone.

Sawyer scoffed, nearly choking on the panic clawing its way up her throat. “How long?”

“What?”

Sawyer tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it had taken up residence there, started paying rent. “How long have you known Alissa was pursuing my book’s rights?”

Mason swallowed thickly. “After Celia’s.”

A memory bubbled to the surface. Hangover brunch, when Beau asked about a Why We’re Not Together movie and Mason had been so uncharacteristically fidgety. Suddenly, it all made sense. She could understand not telling her at brunch, but after? It had been weeks. He’d known for weeks and not told her, actively chosen not to tell her every time she asked him how things were going with Guiding Light.

“Mason? Mason West?”

They both flinched, remembering they were in public. A petite brunette woman in a very expensive-looking cream coat stood a few feet away, a hesitantly hopeful look on her face. Her friend hovered a few steps behind her, pretending not to be watching as she scrolled through her phone with a manicured finger.

Mason’s face changed in an instant, PR Face slamming into place. “Hi.”

The woman let out a girlish squeal before bounding over. Sawyer turned and stormed off. She didn’t care if it was petty. She wasn’t going to stand there and take pictures of them with Mason’s stupidly beautiful, smiling face when she wanted to scream at him.

She hoped walking would calm her down, but the pounding of her boots against the pavement—well, half pounding, half squelching—only incensed her further. She could excuse sending Alissa the book—they hadn’t known each other then, but since? He knew how she felt about selling her film rights. He’d known and decided not to tell her. Over and over again, he’d chosen to say nothing. All this time, she thought he’d been so gracious about her chaotic schedule, but what if it was all just to butter her up, to woo her into giving him the rights?

Sawyer hadn’t realized where she’d been walking until she pulled up short outside of Mason’s apartment building. The sweet doorman smiled warmly at her.

“Good day, Miss Sawyer. I’m afraid Mr. West just left.”

“I know.” She exhaled heavily. “Thanks, Luther. I’m not—”

“Ah! Never mind, here he comes now.”

Sawyer whipped around as Mason jogged across the street, eyes locked on her. She was fairly certain he was attempting to smile pleasantly, but it looked more like a grimace. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one whose mood hadn’t improved with a walk.

“Seriously, Sawyer? You just left ?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she simpered. “Did you need me to play photographer for you and your hot moms fan club?”

Luther cleared his throat awkwardly, opening the lobby door for them.

Mason placed a hand at her elbow to guide her inside. She childishly wrenched it from his grasp, storming inside without waiting for him.

“Sawyer,” he sighed. “This argument is stupid.”

“Oh? My feelings about how you went behind my back and meddled in my career are stupid?”

He ran a hand over his face roughly. “No, I—I said that wrong. Of course it’s not. I went about it wrong, but this wouldn’t be like last time—”

“That’s just it, Mason,” she fumed. “You think you know, but you don’t. It’s not that they just changed a few things about my book and my ego was too big to handle it, they—” Sawyer’s eyes stung and she blinked furiously, even angrier with herself that she was seriously going to cry right now.

“I know, Sawyer,” he pleaded. “I know what they did, which is why I wanted to make sure we could give you everything you needed to feel comfortable doing this before telling you. Alissa wants to cowrite the script with you. We’d make you an executive producer. You’d have veto power over any changes you don’t like. You could stay with me in LA—”

Her heart was in her throat, suffocating her. It would be foolish not to take this offer. But this wasn’t part of her plan. Hell, she didn’t have a plan beyond her deadline, her entire future hinging on whether or not she could salvage her career. The mere thought of one more thing to juggle made her want to sink to the floor and dissolve into a puddle. She felt backed into a corner, backed into a future she hadn’t signed up for.

“You make it sound so simple,” she said hollowly. “Sell my rights, pack up my life, follow you to La-La Land. What if this doesn’t have the happily ever after you hoped? Then what? I’ve sold my rights to my ex?”

“Why do you assume it’s not going to work out?”

“Because in my experience, it doesn’t! Can you honestly say your track record is any better than mine? This whole mission, the list, was about both of us getting our careers back on track, and we’ve done that. Mixing them—” Her hands were somehow shaking and going numb at the same time. “I’m so grateful that our nonsense mission worked, but the last time I said yes to everything, I lost everything. You’re asking me to juggle too much, I—” She sucked in a deep breath, unsure of the last time she’d breathed.

Mason, on the other hand, was completely calm. Of course he was. He’d had weeks to think this through. “You wouldn’t have to juggle it all on your own, babe. I would be with you, every step of the way. Let me help. It’s a lot—I know it’s a lot—but we can work this out.”

He made it sound so simple, so easy. If she hadn’t already done this before, she’d probably believe him. But she’d been here before, everything she’d ever wanted at her fingertips, only to end up more alone than she’d ever been—and that was when she’d kept it all separate. Involving Mason directly was inviting disaster, another two-year slump where she could feel the color leaching out of her soul with every day spent unable to do the one that thing that she’d ever felt good at. She was just starting to feel like herself again. She was so proud of how far she’d come. She thought she’d found something in Mason, in how understanding he was of her schedule and deadlines, that he wasn’t like Sadie, and yet… here she was again.

Misreading her silence, Mason continued in a soft voice, like he was talking to a wounded animal. “We don’t have to figure this out right now.”

“What’s to figure out?” she laughed. “Mason, this is nonsensical. You want me to move in—move across the country—and tie my career to some guy I’ve known two months, been seeing for a few weeks? You don’t need to High Fidelity yourself, because I can tell you right now why your relationships don’t last. It’s too fucking much, Mason. It’s been weeks and you’re already asking me to give you my whole fucking life.”

Mason winced, but pressed on calmly, undeterred. “I know it’s a lot, that this wasn’t the plan. I didn’t plan on falling in love with you, but I did. And other than right now, I’ve been happier with you than anyone.”

The edges of her vision blurred, her attention wholly on Mason and his mouth that was still moving, making words that she couldn’t comprehend. “You don’t,” she forced out.

“What?” he asked, turning back to her from where he’d been pacing while he monologued.

“You don’t love me,” she said numbly.

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t think you get to decide that.”

She shook her head. “You’re… confused. And it’s my fault, I guess. We were doing all these romantic things for the list and you fell for it, like you said you always do.”

“Bullshit.”

Sawyer laughed, half-hysterical. “Is now really the time for a How to Lose a Guy reference?”

“No, I’m calling bullshit. I didn’t fall for you because of the list. I fell for you in the moments in between. I fell for you at the tree farm when you made sure that little girl got the tree you had picked out—”

“Tree farm was on the list—”

“I fell for you again when you were prancing around at Celia’s—”

“Shopping montage—”

“The night we had pho at your apartment and we stayed up talking for hours—”

Before she could poke a hole in that, he continued.

“New Year’s Eve, at Fred’s—”

“Midnight kiss was on the list—”

“Christmas,” he practically growled. “My car, parking lot. That wasn’t on the list, and it sure as shit didn’t mean fucking nothing.”

“Just sex.” The silence that followed her blatant lie was deafening, both of them staring at each other, breathing heavily, and she almost wished he would call bullshit again, in their own fucked-up version of the game. “I’ll take the blame, okay?” she continued shakily. “I broke the rules, of course things got confusing.”

Mason raised his hand and poked the air like he was punctuating an unspoken expletive before retracting his finger and making a fist, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. “I cannot believe you’re doing this… and maybe that makes me the most hopeless romantic in the world, because I should have known you’d do exactly this. Well, congratulations, Sawyer Greene, you’ve finally upheld your end of the deal and ruined romance for me. Happy?”

Not particularly.

“You’ll be fine, Mason. Once this is all in the rearview, you’ll realize you just got swept up again. It wasn’t me you wanted. I was just there.”

A muscle in Mason’s jaw jumped, he was clenching it so hard. “This cannot actually be your impression of me.”

“Prove me wrong,” she said, flinging her arms wide. She didn’t even know what that meant , but it was the most cutting thing she could think to say right now. She wanted to run, to puke into the umbrella stand, to scream. She wanted out of this conversation, by any means necessary.

“How?” he asked softly, his voice catching.

She took a shaky breath, barely able to get any air in around the lump in her throat. “Let me go. Respect that I don’t want this. I never did. I tried, okay? But this—” She gestured between them. “This has always had an end date, so let’s stop prolonging the inevitable. You’re moving to LA. My life is here. The list is done. The tabloids have moved on. My writer’s block is gone. I need to focus on finishing my book, and you need to focus on Guiding Light. So, let’s just call it. We both got what we needed.”

Hurt flashed across Mason’s face. “What about what we want?”

Ignoring the pang in her chest, she forced her next words out. “I don’t want this.”

“Of course,” he said blandly, his PR Face sliding into place.

Somehow, that hurt even more than seeing him in pain.

She met his gaze, and they watched each other with bated breath. There was a moment, a fraction of a second, where she thought he was going to cave, to beg her to stay and talk it out. The scariest part was she hoped he would. Before he could, she turned on her soggy heel and left.

She made it half a block before she puked into a trash can.