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  “I’m in the Upper West Side. By Lincoln Center.”

  “Text me the exact address and I’ll have a car there within ten minutes.”

  “Done.”

  When we hung up, I hastily texted him the address of the bistro and settled up my bill. I sucked in my bottom lip, trying to contain my excitement but the effort was in vain, so I gave up to bundle up, stepping outside with a big, stupid smile hidden behind my scarf as I spotted the black Mercedes pulling up to deliver me to Mason.

  *

  Upon arriving downtown at the Victorian Hotel, I gave my name up front to be escorted to the very top of the building, into the sleek, swanky lounge. It was packed and buzzing inside, cocktail waitresses drifting about in half bouffants, winged eyeliner and ivory silk shift dresses. There was a retro feel to the place, especially with swinging jazz echoing beyond the din of conversation, and vintage, chandelier sconces dimly lighting the room.

  “Mr. Leo is waiting for you upstairs, miss,” said the suited gentleman who brought me into the bar. Leading the way, I followed him to a flight of roped-off stairs that he let me up before closing off again. Alone now, I made my way up the marble steps, approaching a room overlooking the one I’d just come from. There was an ornate wrought iron balcony that reminded me of a sheet of lace. Once I got to the top of the steps, I saw a cozy but sophisticated space furnished with a fully stocked bar, a hanging candelabra and a sprawling leather couch on which my favorite part of the room sat.

  He hadn’t noticed me yet.

  A silver pen in the easy grip of his left hand, Mason jotted in a small planner, failing thus far to look up and greet me. I didn’t mind. It gave me time to study him without his knowledge, which I’d come to realize was something I loved to do. It meant I got to see him without the jokes and the snark and the sarcasm that seemed inevitable the moment he laid eyes upon me. It also meant I could stand there for a moment and secretly admire how devastatingly beautiful he was in a simple white shirt with no tie, his suit jacket off and draped over the back of the couch. They were broad already, but his perfect shoulders broadened further from the way he leaned forward on his knees. Sitting perfectly straight yet at ease, he was a winning combination of authority and nonchalance that had me pretty furiously turned on.

  “Hey.”

  When his finally greeting came, it was with a glimmer in his eyes and an easy smile on his lips. “Hi,” I breathed, watching him rise to his feet and come to take my coat. Once it was hung on the rack, his hand found the small of my back and he led me to the couch. On the table in front of us, there was already a spread of risotto and scallops on the shell, served on a wooden cutting board. His glass of red was reaching its end so after pouring mine, he refilled it. Handing it to me, he laughed.

  “Don’t worry, you don’t need to drink or finish it. Just seemed rude if I didn’t pour you a glass.”

  “Ah, so you’re actually concerned with seeming rude now,” I teased but quickly relented. “I’m joking. You more than cleared up everything last night at Noah’s. And I guess this morning as well.”

  He smirked at my references to the past twenty-four hours we had. But when he spoke, his voice was a genuine murmur. “I’m glad I got to see you tonight.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Me too. I…” Did I dare say it? I bit my lip. “I thought about you a… decent amount today,” I laughed sheepishly.

  “I doubt it was anything compared to how much I thought about you,” Mason said. He laughed. “I’m actually behind on my work now thanks to the lack of thinking with my brain all day.

  “Really?” I wet my lips, gazing down at my crossed legs grazing Mason’s, my body angled toward him so I could feel his warmth. “Well, you have three more days before we leave for St. Lucia.”

  Mason nodded. “And once I get back I’ll have to break the news to the company that run this bar that I’m not renewing their contract.”

  My lashes fluttered. “Right. Because you’re going to give this space to Vandermark,” I murmured, remembering the contract with my company Mason promised. It was the only reason Lori gave me the two weeks off out of nowhere. “That deal is going to make me look like a rock star at work, by the way. I mean it’s easily a thousand times bigger than any other contract I’ve ever negotiated, and there have been a lot.”

  “Yeah? How long have you worked at Vandermark?”

  “Since I was nineteen, so seven years now.”

  Mason raised his eyebrows high. “Right. You didn’t go to college.” He took a moment to remember the fact that so thoroughly shocked him a couple days ago. “So, how the hell did you land a spot at that company fresh out of high school?” he asked with a curiosity that flattered me. But I struggled to figure out how to answer.

  “It’s a little hard to explain,” I laughed quietly, letting myself remember. “I’d have to go way back to where I grew up and how high school went for me. Kind of a long story, so.”

  Mason glanced at his watch. “Well, they close in two hours here but you and I have all night. We can stay till the morning if we want, so if you’re willing to tell me, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

  I looked up at him, surprised by the honesty in his eyes. No a single glint of a laugh or a joke. I bit my lip. “Sure,” I said, failing to sound unfazed. “I guess it starts with, um, getting shuffled around a bit when I was a kid.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Vermont. Super blue-collar town in Bennington County. I’d say the name but you haven’t heard of it, and it’s nothing to know about anyway,” I smiled a bit sheepishly. “And I didn’t stay there long. It was just the last place I lived with my mom before she sent me off to some poor relative who really couldn’t afford me more than she could.” I looked up to catch Mason’s reaction to the fact that I hadn’t grown up in the upper middle class dream that people always assumed I came from. I expected to see him wrinkle his nose a bit like Aaron had when he heard I’d once lived in a trailer home. But there was nothing of that kind of expression, no flinch at all in any of Mason’s perfectly symmetrical features. All he did was nod and keep his attention fixed gently on me so I’d continue talking. “Anyway, I bounced around to other relatives before she got someone to take me in for good. It was nice because I got to spend my high school years in White River Junction, which is a small town where you kind of have to make your own entertainment, but it was a good community. It made up for the fact that I was with Aunt Joy, whose name I think was… some kind of cruel joke,” I laughed to myself, quiet as I thought for the first time in ages about the woman who used to spend entire days chain smoking in the living room and watching all the conspiracy theory documentaries Netflix had to offer. “She worked part-time at the grocery store before I moved in but once I came around, she quit and made me pay seven hundred dollars a month in rent and utilities… which for a fifteen-year-old was kind of difficult. But if I didn’t, I had nowhere else to go.”

  Mason frowned. “So you managed to do that?”

  I took a sip of my wine, letting the bitter tannins coat my tongue. “With two jobs after school. Didn’t leave much room for a social life but at least I got to fantasize a lot about how I was going to leave the second I graduated. Which is exactly what I did.”

  “Pretty fucking impressive.” Mason nodded with approval. “Especially considering you moved straight to one of the most expensive cities in the country.”

  I blushed. “Trust me, it probably wasn’t the smartest move, and I struggled for awhile to get a job. No one wants to hire you in New York unless you have New York experience, but you can’t get New York experience unless someone hires you. It was definitely a struggle, and I wouldn’t have found anything if it weren’t for my math teacher from high school. She was the one who’d see me walking into her homeroom like a zombie because I could never start studying till I got home from work, and considering I had to go several towns over to find my second job, that wasn’t till ten, eleven at night. So she was the on
e who helped me make a template so I could know how much to set aside and save for myself so I could move.” I shook my head at myself, holding my wine glass against my bottom lip as I thought about how bullheaded and foolish I was as a kid. “She tried so hard to convince me to go somewhere besides New York, but I was so young and dumb and I’d watched so many movies where I saw Fifth Avenue or the Empire State Building. And I was just set in my mind, so when I graduated, I came here and floundered cluelessly for about eight months till I was almost out of money.”

  Mason had a hand thrust in his hair as he processed my story thus far. “I can’t believe this is you. I don’t know why, but I just assumed you’d started out differently here.”

  “I know. I can’t believe either when I think about it. I used to survive on peanut butter or grilled cheeses all week, so it definitely feels like I’ve come pretty far,” I said quietly.

  Mason shook his head, looking stunned. “You have and you should be proud. You did it all on your own.”

  “Well. Not quite,” I admitted. “I called my math teacher when I was back to unemployed and wondering if I could really make it in this city. She could hear the desperation in my voice, so she wound up calling…” I squinted. “I believe it was her mother-in-law’s church friend’s goddaughter…” I laughed at Mason’s face of pure astonishment. “I know. She called that person to see if she’d be willing to give me an internship. And from what I understand, she called her every week for two months until she gave in and contacted me for an interview at this crazy famous restaurant group I couldn’t believe I even had a connection to. And even crazier than that, I actually got hired. I started as a paid intern and it took two years to become an assistant, and then another two before I became an official event coordinator for Vandermark Restaurants.”

  Mason was grinning at the improbability of my story. “Fuck. That title at the age of twenty-three is pretty unbelievable,” he said, putting a glow on my face. “And the fact that this woman believed so fiercely in you certainly says something about what a hard worker you were from the start.”

  “I hope so,” I nodded, smiling to myself. “Her name is Lori.”

  “Your teacher?”

  “No, the woman who hired me to Vandermark. I consider her one of my best friends now, too,” I said, thinking guiltily about how I hadn’t updated Lori at all regarding my “fauxmance” with Mason. But now there was so much to explain that I figured I’d just wait till I got back to work.

  “That’s amazing,” Mason remarked, his blue eyes glimmering as they traced the pride curving the edges of my lips. “What was your teacher’s name?”

  My smile faltered a bit. “It’s going to sound weird, but I don’t really like saying her name aloud.”

  Mason looked confused. “Why?” he asked.

  “Um… hard to explain but I’ll just say it. It’s Mrs. Nolan.”

  “Is she still here? Why is it hard for you to say?”

  “She’s still here. In her early sixties now. But I just don’t like mentioning her name and I’m kind of begging you to avoid it from here on out, too,” I murmured hastily, feeling like a crazy person. I knew Mason was curious to press on about the reasons for my restrictions, but all I had to do was flash him a bit of a pleading look and with a nod, he mercifully dropped it, changing the subject.

  “Can I make you a plate?” he asked, gesturing toward the food.

  “I’m okay for now. But you can answer me a question,” I replied.

  “What is it?”

  I brainstormed. “I don’t know. I have to think of one. I just figure you owe me some stories from your own life considering how much you just heard about mine.”

  Mason smiled. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”

  “Let’s start with how you grew up. I know a little from Aaron, though,” I smiled, taking a baby sip of my wine. “Born and raised in New York. Grew up in the Upper West Side. You went to the Wharton School of Business and then Columbia for your masters.”

  Mason raised his eyebrows. “That’s more than I figured you’d know.”

  “You seem to underestimate your little brother’s obsession with you.”

  “No, we’re all been well versed on Aaron’s jealousy issues. I just didn’t think he’d subject you to them,” Mason laughed.

  “Who’s ‘we’?” I asked, letting him pull my legging-clad legs onto his lap. “You and your parents?”

  “Yes. Specifically me and my mother. You’ve met her.”

  “Of course.” Clara Leo, born Clara Alba. She was an shockingly beautiful, sweet, and naturally doting woman who I had the pleasure of seeing only once a year during Thanksgiving. And every Thanksgiving, she begged Aaron and me to come to Christmas, often trying to bribe us with everything from delicious home baked pastries to expensive gifts. She’d say that was only the start if we’d just come to see her on Christmas as well, but Aaron always said we’d already committed to a friend’s party, whether it was true or not. And soon enough, I was conditioned to love but dread Thanksgiving because I knew it was that time of the year when Aaron and I would disappoint poor Clara. From what I observed, there was nothing not to love about her, so it broke my heart in half. “She’s gotta be the most loving woman I’ve ever met in my life,” I said truthfully. “I wish Aaron would’ve wanted to spend more time with her, but he had a… slight resentment about how she favored you.”

  “You’re kidding,” Mason laughed straightaway, though I could tell he found nothing funny at all. I cocked my head curiously as he took a minute to process what I’d just said. The grip he hand on my knee firmed a bit as he shook his head. “That’s… insane. Aaron knows he’s our mother’s weakness. She’s incredibly proud of me but she’s always spent most of her time worrying about him, making sure he’s happy and taken care of – especially since she knows he’s got this weird fucking complex about being the kid brother.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a kid brother complex so much as the ‘less successful brother’ complex,” I said, annoyed as I thought about it. “He felt like your dad didn’t respect him, and like your mother pitied him.”

  “Fuck him,” Mason seethed, staring straight ahead. “He punished her for years just for loving him as much as she did. She cried every day for weeks after he left for California,” he revealed, promptly breaking my heart again. I had barely considered that anyone was suffering as much as I was thanks to Aaron, but now that I thought about it, I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about Clara and how much she had to be hurting. “I know if he really ends up marrying Eva, we’ll completely lose him to the Tully family. He’ll never come home to so much as visit and within a few years, he’ll probably get comfortable with not calling my mother, not even on holidays. And considering how she’s spent her entire life just giving to us, how much bullshit she’s accepted from my father just for us, I won’t let that fucking happen. I’m not letting Aaron just run away from his idiot insecurities and start over without thinking about the woman who dedicated her life to his happiness – if not our whole family, he should at least think of her.”

  My heart ached just from looking at the fury and torment twisting Mason’s face. Leaning against him, my legs still in his lap, I dared to put a hand on his chest, stroking gently when I felt just how rapidly his heart was beating. “That’s perfectly fair. If I had someone like Clara growing up, I’d spend my life making sure I gave back till she had all the happiness she deserved,” I said, hating Aaron in that moment for being so thankless. Not only did he have a mother his whole life, he had one who loved him like she was all that existed in her world. If I’d had that, I couldn’t imagine taking it for granted let alone abandoning it the way he was doing now.

  “I know you would.” I felt the rumble under Mason’s hard chest as he drew in a deep breath and let it slowly out. Relaxing a bit, he gazed down at my hand on him. I watched in awe as he wrapped his hand around my wrist, bringing my fingertips up to his mouth and brushing a kiss so faint again
st them that I wondered if I could even call it that. But whatever the gesture was, it had me spellbound. “You’re a better person than he is. You always deserved better than him,” Mason murmured, managing to crack an almost laugh. “My mom said herself that she was thankful he found you. That if he wouldn’t let her into his life anymore, at least she knew there was a good woman taking care of him.”

  My chest twisted with another painful ache. “God, this makes me want to slap Aaron for being so cold to her. Why did she even favor him so much if he was such an ungrateful bastard?”

  Mason shrugged. “He was her miracle baby.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mason let out a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he gave his anwer. “She wanted to give me a younger brother to grow up with,” he murmured. “But she lost all three pregnancies before Aaron.”

  My stomach lurched so hard I clutched it. “She did?”

  “Yes.” Mason frowned at me. I knew the blood had drained from my face because suddenly, he was cupping it in his hands and gazing into my eyes. “Taylor, are you okay?”

  I breathed a moment, leaning into his palm. “Yes.” I gathered myself as best as I could. “I just can’t believe Aaron never told me that.”

  “Well. He enjoyed the perks that came with being the miracle baby until all that loving attention became ‘pressure’ to him. Feeling like something huge was expected out of him – something he couldn’t give because he couldn’t match what I’d done in my career. But it was all self-inflicted. My mom would be proud of anything he decided to do. All she’s ever actually wanted from him is his love. Feeling like she has a family.”

  “I can understand that,” I mumbled, realizing that was exactly what I’d wanted from Aaron myself. Jesus. I really should’ve hung out with his mother more often. “What about your dad?” I dared to ask curiously.

  “He’s my dad,” Mason said bluntly. Then recognizing his tone, he cleared his throat. “I mean he provided for us. Made sure we never wanted for a thing. But he cheated openly on my mom and he wouldn’t stop no matter how often she or I begged him. Makes me fucking pray that she didn’t stay with him all these years just because Aaron and I begged her not to get a divorce. We were in middle school, but she promised she wouldn’t. She still hasn’t,” Mason said, chewing his bottom lip. “And I know she’ll want even more to hang onto the family she’s got if she really loses Aaron. But if that fucking happens, I’ll still be the real family left for her and someday, I’ll give her everything she wants – the grandchildren, the big Christmases. All of that. I’ll do it.”