“Six more dates,” I say after a beat. “And then I’m gone.”
She growls beneath her breath. “Are you listening? I don’t—”
“I am listening,” I cut in evenly. “I don’t want you to lose anything you’ve gained. I want you to be strong and independent, but I also want you. In my life. However that shakes out. We were good friends once, and I know we can be again.”
“We were more than friends,” she grumbles. “And I think you still want to be more than friends.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
She sighs. “Yes? No? I don’t know because I’m scared and confused and having a hard time thinking clearly?”
“Then don’t think.” I slip an arm around her waist, heart lifting when she doesn’t push me away. “Feel. What feels right? Right now?”
“I don’t know,” she says, but a moment later she softens against me. Her palms flatten on my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, her fingers curl into my shirt, making my pulse beat faster.
I lean in, breath held as I tilt my mouth closer to hers.
I’m lost in her, heart hammering as I realize my first Lark kiss in four years is mere seconds away, when suddenly the door swings open behind her and something flies through it.
I see the projectile coming in my peripheral vision, but there’s no time to move out of the way. The object hits my nose with an offended squeak and I flinch and curse, summoning a high-pitched squeal of delight from inside the house.
Chapter 8
Mason
I look up.
Into the eyes of a vengeful Viking warrior princess thirsty for my blood.
Lark’s big sister is known for shooting looks that kill, but this is the first time I’ve ever been a target. Mentally, I vow to do whatever it takes to get back in her good graces.
Or invest in glare-blocking body armor. One or the other.
“She’s sick.” Aria hitches the adorable redheaded baby in her arms higher on her hip, as Lark pulls away with a nervous cough. “She shouldn’t be getting that close to anyone.”
“So you threw a…” I glance down to see a bright red plastic hammer with a yellow squeaker at one end lying on the stoop by my feet. “A baby hammer. Good choice.”
“I didn’t want you to get sick,” Aria says in a tone that makes it clear she couldn’t care less if I catch the plague and die. Slowly. While in great, great torturous pain. “And it was Felicity who threw the hammer. She doesn’t trust men with facial hair.”
“Mason doesn’t have facial hair.” Lark deliberately avoids looking my way, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.
“Must be his face she doesn’t trust then.” Aria doesn’t crack a smile. “You’d better come in, Lark. We wouldn’t want you to get any sicker.”
“She’s not sick,” I say, forcing a smile. I don’t want to get on Aria’s bad side, at least not any more than I am already.
“Yes, she is.”
“No, I’m not,” Lark says with a sigh.
“Yes, you are,” Aria says through gritted teeth. “Now come inside, get in bed, and go to sleep before you do something you’ll regret.”
Lark looks up at me for a long moment before turning back to her sister. “It’s okay, Ra,” she says, resting a gentle hand on Aria’s arm. The two women stare at each other for a long moment, speaking without words the way the March girls do.
I’ve always been a little envious of those conversations, wondering what it would be like to be so close to someone that you could communicate without uttering a sound.
Finally Aria blows air out through her pursed lips and shrugs as if to say “it’s your funeral,” and Lark turns back to me.
“I’ll be down in fifteen minutes. Just let me change and get my swim bag together.”
She disappears into the house and I’m left with Aria, who clearly isn’t inclined to invite me in. Instead, she leans against the doorframe, her baby still on her hip, glaring a hole through my forehead while Felicity bats at her mother’s feather earrings.
“So...” I say after a long, uncomfortable silence, broken only by Felicity’s baby chatter and a bird squawking in the tree behind me that I swear sounds like it’s telling me to run. “How’s it going?”
“I’m a divorced single mother whose ex refuses to pay child support, living with my parents, Mason,” Aria says in a flat tone. “How do you think it’s going?”
“Not easy,” I say, feeling like an ass.
“No, not easy.” Aria smoothes Felicity’s whispy hair from her forehead.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Like what?” She doesn’t blink.
“My friend Chris Mathis from high school is in family law in Atlanta,” I say. “If you have any questions you’d like to ask a lawyer off the clock, I could ask him to get in touch with you. I know the fees can get pretty crazy when they’re billing you for ten minute phone calls and every piece of paper they print out.”
“Thank you, but that’s okay. I don’t need a lawyer. I don’t care about the support. All I care about is having Felicity here with me.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m happy to make the call.”
Aria glances back at me, her green eyes sad, but clear and strong. “That’s very sweet, but some things are unforgiveable, Mason. No matter how sweet you are afterward. I’m not sure if what you did falls under that category for Lark, or not, but it sure would for me.”
“I made a mistake, Aria.” I meet her hard look with a penitent one. “I wish like hell I could take it back, but I can’t. But I can promise that it’s one I won’t be repeating. I would never hurt Lark or anyone else like that again. Not ever.”
Aria reaches up, gently pulling her earring from Felicity’s fist before the baby can draw it into her mouth. “Maybe you can convince her that’s true Mason, but I’m a little more familiar with people who swear they’re not going to make the same mistake twice. And guess what?” The baby starts to fuss, but Aria shushes her with a tummy rub and a bounce on her hip. “They always make the same mistake. Always. Sometimes three or four or five times. All that giving them another chance does is make you feel like a fool.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been through that, but—”
“But nothing,” Aria says, the harsh note creeping back into her tone. “I learned my lesson the hard way, but I hope to God my sister won’t have to. I’m not on your side, Mason, so you can stop trying to win me over. I don’t need your favors, and Lark needs you back in her life like an octopus needs a hang glider.”
I open my mouth, but before I can speak, I hear Lark’s footsteps pounding down the stairs. A second later, she’s at the door, her filmy black cover-up swirling around her legs as she breezes by Aria with only a slight pause to kiss the top of Felicity’s head.
“Ready to go?” she asks in a breathless rush, her brown eyes searching mine.