Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

SWORN OFF RELATIONSHIPS – The hero says, “I’m giving up on love to focus on my career,” and the universe says, “Lol, hold my beer.”

M ason knew this was coming, but not like this . He’d been staring down at his phone the past few minutes, unable to read further than the headline and photo, glaring daggers at Diedre Browne’s byline underneath.

Two weeks ago, Browne had written “ People ’s Favorite On- and Off-Screen Romances.” She’d included Dr. Santiago and Nurse Lia, Mason and Kara’s characters on Diagnostics . Innocuous enough, except he and Kara weren’t together anymore—on- or off-screen, the writers leaving the show’s central romance up in the air after the midseason finale. Mason was sympathetic to the fans’ outrage, considering his real-life relationship with Kara had been “up in the air” for six months. But now, every article about the two of them, recycling some months-old picture, was like being on a roller coaster, inching higher and higher, knowing the terrifying drop was moments away.

Last week, Browne penned another article: “Sleigh Bells or Wedding Bells for Zest?” He was numb to the media’s corny Zhao-West portmanteau, but the photo that accompanied the article had sparked a media frenzy the likes of which Mason had never had to deal with before. Sure, he played a hot doctor on TV and had a history of dating costars, which the media loved, but the great thing about living in Chicago was he didn’t get recognized nearly as much as he had in LA. However, he might have gotten a little too used to it.

Two weeks ago, when his mom asked him to pick up the necklace she’d had re-clasped from the jeweler, he hadn’t thought twice about it. And yeah, maybe he’d wandered over to the ring case while he waited, daydreaming about what it might be like to one day pick one out for someone, but he didn’t think the security camera footage would be sold to People . For the past week, the tabloids had been up in arms about a pending Christmastime Zest proposal.

Until today. Mason had to hand it to Diedre Browne. She’d clearly been planning this all along, hyping up Zest before announcing their split. The photo of Kara cozied up to her new costar wouldn’t have sold nearly as many copies without the accompanying photo of Mason looking heartbroken and sporting a Grizzly Adams beard. He wasn’t heartbroken or bearded. The photo was many years old, from a role in his friend Alissa’s breakout project.

Speaking of, his phone buzzed with an incoming text from Alissa. They’d been best friends since they were teenagers, when they’d played siblings in the blockbuster Disney movie The Heir Apparent(ly) . Alissa left acting shortly after that role, but they’d worked on a number of indie films together, Alissa directing, Mason acting or producing or both—and occasionally growing a Grizzly Adams beard. Not that anyone remembered anything on his résumé beyond Disney and Hot Doctor.

Mason braced himself as he clicked the link Alissa had sent to a well-known tabloid.

Mason West’s Long List of Ex-Lovers

Jesus Christ. How did other actors deal with this shit? His fame had always been mediocre at best. A small article here or there, never a cover story. Nothing like this. Now, he couldn’t go to the grocery store without seeing his face plastered across the tabloids.

Worse yet, it wasn’t even his fault this was so sensational. He was collateral damage in the publicity parade surrounding Kara since she landed the Marvel role alongside her new beau, Peter Levine, the disgustingly handsome son of a former Bond girl. The media loved them together, and were having a field day making a circus out of Mason’s literal life.

He’d had six months to get over Kara—plus the three weeks since she officially ended it, so it wasn’t that. It was the feeling of helplessness, like he was a spectator while others wrote his life story. Sure, he played a reformed rake on TV, and yes, he’d dated his fair share of women, but he wasn’t the “toot-it-and-boot-it” type like this article was suggesting. But according to his agent and PR team, all he could do was weather the storm, wait for something else to become the story of the week.

He was no stranger to the media documenting his love life. Before, it had all been complimentary, cooing over whatever costar he was dating. He didn’t mind when they called him “whipped” for chartering a private yacht and a personal chef for his fifth date with Kara. There were worse things to be known as than romantic. Now, the articles questioned why their favorite romantic couldn’t keep a steady relationship postproduction, questioned whether he was the problem. Worse, he was beginning to wonder the same. He did everything the movies said you should do, and yet—

His phone buzzed with an incoming call. “Hey,” he said dejectedly as soon as the line connected. He sank further into his pillows. It was nearly ten a.m., and he had yet to get out of bed, opting to doomscroll instead.

“Heyyy,” Alissa hedged carefully. “How are you hanging in there?”

He grunted in response.

“Yeah,” she agreed sadly. “I—I’m sorry. This sucks. If it’s any consolation, everyone who matters knows you’re not that guy.”

It did little to cheer him up. Alissa knew better than anyone that once your name is ruined, it’s hard to come back from that. She advocated for herself on set for years, earning a reputation as “difficult to work with” that led to her being shut out of roles she would have been perfect for. She didn’t let that stop her, pivoting to directing and now starting her own production company with the sole focus of creating a safe space to tell women’s stories. A production company Mason was helping her start. Guiding Light was set to announce its first project next week.

Mason’s head hit the headboard with a thud. “Alissa,” he sighed. “About Guiding Light…”

On the other end of the line, Alissa inhaled sharply. “Yeah, I was calling to talk to you about that.”

“I haven’t given Diagnostics an answer yet about my contract, so—” Bile rose in the back of his throat. The stability of a six-year contract had been half the allure of making the jump to television. But the past few seasons had felt like a trap he couldn’t escape, and he’d been fantasizing about the day he could turn down the option for a seventh season, but now… “I’ll just do another season and see where we’re at a year from now. I don’t want my mess affecting Guiding Light’s launch.”

“What? Mason, no,” Alissa said emphatically. “That’s not what I want at all. The tabloids will move on . Yeah, optics aren’t great for us to announce a production company focused on female empowerment while the media’s painting you as a manwhore—”

“ Ouch .”

“Well…” Alissa trailed off. Mason could picture her grimacing semi-regretfully. “Anyway, I sent you that article because I think you need to pull a TSwift.”

“Let the media reduce my entire career to my dating life?” he asked in disbelief. “I think we’re already there.”

“No! God, no. You need to fucking disappear, like post- Reputation -era TSwift. The media is doing you dirty, and you need to go lick your wounds in private. We’ll push the Guiding Light announcement back until after the holidays, when all of this has blown over. You just need to not date anyone for a few months and stay out of the tabloids. Think you can do that?”

Easier said than done. Yes, he wanted to fall in love, settle down, have that secret language where you could communicate whole paragraphs with a single look, but he didn’t seek it out. Like the elevator meet-cute with Sawyer, he didn’t do that on purpose . And while he’d thoroughly enjoyed “ruining” their meet-cute, it couldn’t be more different from what he’d usually do. Normally, he’d do exactly what she’d ranted about: read too far into it, catch feelings, and before he knew it, they’d have drawers at each other’s apartments. He was an incurable romantic.

Plus, being single over the holidays sounded horrible. Not that he’d ever brought anyone home for the holidays, but having someone to text when his mom got too meddlesome in his career, someone to call and decompress with when family time felt less like “family time” and more like they had agreed to do that Meet the Wests reality show after all—and his mom was the only one with the script. It was a comfort, having someone. And yeah, he was a little insecure about not having anyone to kiss on New Year’s for the first time in—he couldn’t count how many years.

Maybe Alissa had a point, but the point still stung.

“I don’t date all the time on purpose ,” he grumbled.

“Just like Taylor. She’s so awesome, men are drawn to her. And notice how no one judges them . Just like you. But, maybe a little break wouldn’t hurt, yeah? You not doing Guiding Light is out of the question. I need you and your charming self to convince people to give us their money.”

Mason sighed, scratching at the stubble on his chin—oh God, was he going full Grizzly Adams? A quick glance in the mirror over his dresser confirmed it was only a few days of growth.

He hated that Alissa was pushing back the announcement—they’d worked for years to get to this point, but she was making the smart call. Despite his offer to bow out, he didn’t want to. He loved acting, but with every season of his six-year Diagnostics contract, their showrunner grew more toxic. Mason needed out, wanted to be a part of the change this industry so desperately needed. Even if it meant uprooting his entire life all over again.

“Yeah, I can do that. No point in dating when I’ll be in LA soon anyway.” He knew firsthand that long distance didn’t last. Starting something new was inviting disaster—and his reputation couldn’t afford any more disasters right now. If he was coming on as head of production at Guiding Light, he needed people to respect him, not be the guy they read tabloids about while waiting in line at the grocery store. You don’t give that guy money to make films.

Alissa cleared her throat pointedly. “Speaking of LA: Where are we at with telling the family? I haven’t heard the banshees wail yet, so I assume your mother doesn’t know and hasn’t yet begun planning my murder for stealing her son from her.”

Mason groaned. “I’ll tell them—soon,” he lied. He would avoid that particular conversation for as long as possible. If Alissa was pushing back the announcement, then it wouldn’t hurt to wait until after the holidays, right?

Rolling out of bed, he headed over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and parted the blackout curtains. He flinched back at the wall of white that greeted him.

He left LA for Chicago five years ago, when he landed the role on Diagnostics . It was the kind of role he’d always sworn he wouldn’t take, not wanting to follow in his mom’s footsteps. Her hearty approval of him taking a TV role had nearly made him turn it down. He loved the indie films he’d been doing, but he was tired of uprooting his life multiple times a year and leaving behind more than just apartments. Diagnostics provided stability, and it put him in the same city as his sister and his nephews. So Mason signed his life away, packed up his laughably small amount of personal belongings, and moved to Chicago.

Chicago, the land of wind and snow and rarely ever sunshine.

In the five years he’d been there, he’d never seen so much snow, and never so early. Usually they made it through the New Year before it really started coming down. Not this year, apparently. He would kill for a bit of sunshine, even if it was single-digit temperatures. The closest thing he’d come to sunshine in weeks was Sawyer Greene.

He spent a lot more time thinking about her than he should, especially first thing in the morning when his dick was hard and his bed was empty.

And yeah, he’d googled her. He had to know if her name really was Sawyer Greene. Shockingly enough, it was. He was both surprised and unsurprised to learn she was a well-known romance author. One of her books had been adapted into a movie Mason auditioned for. He hadn’t gotten the part, much to his chagrin, as it turned out to be an instant classic—even if it came under fire from loyal book fans for barely resembling the source material.

There was hardly anything on her Instagram about the movie, and what was there screamed, I was contractually obligated to post this . She hadn’t posted much at all, really, since her third book came out at the beginning of the year. Mason didn’t know much about publishing except, like Hollywood, everything moved slowly. She seemed to release one book a year, but there was absolutely nothing on her Instagram or website about a fourth book. He liked to think it was because she was writing, too busy to update. He thought about that a lot more than he should, too, because the alternative, the idea of a creator not creating… He knew the feeling a little too well, even if his situation was a little different.

“I lost you, didn’t I?” Alissa’s voice came from his speaker, and he almost dropped his phone. He’d forgotten she was on the line.

“Yeah, sorry,” Mason said sheepishly. “Just thinking. I’ll tell them after the holidays, I promise.” He would have to, but he was dreading it. At times, Alissa felt more like his family than, well, his actual family. He and his sister got along, but they never talked this openly with each other. That’s why he’d moved home, to get closer with them after his younger self had pushed them all away to figure out who he was without their influence—namely, his mom’s influence—but he’d been young and thought he had to do it all on his own back then. Things were better now, but no amount of family dinners could undo the volatility of those early years of his career, his mom circling like a helicopter, his father and sister wordlessly watching it happen…

“Oh! Hey, did you send me a book?”

Mason scratched absently at the coarse hair below his navel. “Yeah, I did. I forgot to tell you.” Hell, he’d forgotten he’d done it, shipping a copy to her with two clicks at one in the morning after he’d finished reading. “Might be something for Guiding Light.”

Alissa hummed in interest. “I did want to add something lighter to the docket. But since when do you read romance? No shame, just… surprised?”

He grinned. “Read it. Thank me later. It’s a bisexual, gender-bent High Fidelity .”

“You had me at bi. There’s a role for you in it, yeah?”

“If you want,” he said offhand.

Alissa scoffed. “It’s your pitch. Of course I want you involved—either in front of or behind the camera. Or both.”

“You haven’t even read it yet,” he pointed out.

“I trust you.”

He smiled to himself as he heard her thumbing through the book. If Alissa adapted it, his role wouldn’t be huge, supporting at best, but maybe after leaving Diagnostics —once he told them he was leaving—it could be what he needed to shed the “hot doctor” stereotype once and for all. He’d inherited his father’s roguish looks, which meant he often got sent scripts for Lothario types. The recent media fanfare was definitely piggybacking off that, and he was ready to shake off that typecast. He missed the thrill of developing a character, the secret backstory only he knew and translating it on-screen. He hadn’t felt that way about acting in years, and it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, one he wouldn’t be able to, if he stayed.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and he tore his attention away from the blinding wall of white outside his windows.

Running a few minutes late, sorry!

Mason swore. Between doomscrolling the tabloids and Alissa’s call, he’d completely lost track of time. He was supposed to meet his sister at the Christkindlmarket in five minutes, and he lived ten minutes away.

“Hey—Alissa, I gotta run. I’m late to meet someone.”

She groaned loudly. “ Puh-lease tell me it’s not a date.”

His laugh was muffled as he tugged on the first pair of pants and shirt he could find—it didn’t matter, it would all be hidden beneath his winter coat. “It’s ten a.m. on a Tuesday, Alissa. I’m meeting up with the family,” he said distractedly as he attempted to smooth back his hair. God, he really needed to cut it. Not having to have it trimmed Dr. Santiago short was his offseason rebellion, but in the six months since shooting wrapped, it had grown unwieldy. “Taking a break from dating, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Alissa cooed, faking surprise. “But seriously,” she said more softly. “This will all blow over, and once we’re in LA, doing our thing at Guiding Light, everyone will see the Mason West I know and love.”

“Thanks,” he said thickly. “I love you, too.”

“Tell the fam I said hello and remember: What Would Taylor Do?”

“Will do,” he laughed, shoving on his boots as they said their goodbyes.

He hurtled out of his apartment and into the elevator, jamming the button for the lobby with more force than necessary. Propping his boots on the wall, he tied his laces as the elevator slid slowly down to the lobby.

He still hated elevators, but he was grateful that it had brought him a little bit of sunshine in the midst of an otherwise bleak winter.