Page 37 of Letting Go at 40

Something in what he’s said adds to my already existing irritation. “You don’t need to watch out for me. You aren’t beholden to Ben.” I should argue that I don’t need him, but the words somehow feel wrong.

“I gave Ben my word.” Mason stares at me, our eyes connecting in a way they shouldn’t. Are we both thinking of the same thing? His promise. My vows.

And yet we kissed. A kiss that was so much more than a kiss, and my body was ready to take it even further back then before my head got in the way.

I’d called him Ben.

However, my body recognized he wasn’t Ben. The way Mason plucked at my breast. The way he lifted my leg. The way he kissed me was distinct. A good different when it was so, so bad.

“I won’t be some obligation,” I snark, attempting to adjust the dress clutched to my chest, but accepting that my dignity is lost. The arm over my chest isn’t enough to cover my breasts. Tugging the material on my hip, only exposes more of my other hip, contained by boy-short underwear.

Mason’s gaze falls to my hip and then leaps back to my face. He swallows hard, reminding me of him drinking that beer and Amelia claiming to orgasm.

“And don’t hit on my sister.”

Mason’s brows hitch. His eyes widen as though surprised. “Mealworm?” The teenage nickname cracks in his throat.

“I saw you watching Amelia. She doesn’t need a holiday fling.”

Mason tightens his expression. His jaw ticks. His lips thin. “Maybe you need one.”

“I . . .” My mouth falls open. “How dare you?” I’m still in mourning, as ancient as the term sounds. I’ll never not be mourning.

Mason scrubs a hand down his face. The soft scratch of his palm over his scruffy jaw whispers between us.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry . . .” He looks at me under hooded lids and his eyes are full of contrition. “I’m sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have taken advantage. You were crying and I just wanted to distract”—he swallows hard again, cutting off his own apology—“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nothing happened,” I state, convicted in word while not in my thought. I steady my voice, controlling the tone as best I can to wipe away the truth. Something did happen that night, that shouldn’t have.

Mason nods once. “I’d still like your forgiveness. And I’d still like to be here.”

“For the holiday?” Inside me, I panic. Will he only stay the day?

“For the promise.” His gaze remains on me, locking me in place like prey under the spell of a predator. Although Mason isn’t hunting.

“I was talking with Bryce earlier and I feel chastised.” He coughs over the word. “I miss the kids.”

The statement should sound strange from his lips and yet I understand what he means. He’s spent a year of his life circling my children and they’ve missed him as well. When Ben was too sick to play games or watch movies or toss a ball, Mason did those things with my boys. When Ben couldn’t go out in public, for fear of exposing himself to germs or a virus, Mason was the one who took Mila for ice cream, an occasional manicure, and the father-daughter dance.

“I’m not keeping them from you.” My voice lowers with my own unsaid apology. I’m sorry he hasn’t been present . . . for them. “But you don’t need to feel like you have to be here.”

We don’t need you is on the tip of my tongue, yet again, I can’t say the words. They won’t be true. Calvin misses the camaraderie he’d built with Mason. Not quite father and son, but still man to growing man. Bryce misses the enthusiasm of Mason at his football games, although I’ve heard through the grapevine Mason has snuck in attendance and then disappeared before I ever saw him. Mila simply misses Mason’s teasing and sense of humor, even if inappropriate at times.

As for me, I’ve missed Mason in my own way. Slowly, he slipped into roles played by Ben. Not replacing him, but a welcome addition to our family. A partner of sorts. Losing Ben was like losing a piece of me. Mason’s absence has been like losing my shadow. Something I don’t pay enough attention to when present but miss when gone.

“I want to be here. For them. For you.” Mason waves out a hand at me. “And I wasn’t flirting with Amelia. She’s like the little sister I never had.” He shivers as if the thought of them together repulses him.

I’m not so convinced Mason doesn’t find Amelia attractive. She’s gorgeous. “Well, Logan fell for Ben’s little sister.”

“And look how that turned out.” Mason scoffs, shaking his head. “Marriage and babies, oh my. No thanks.”

Our eyes catch at the teasing and a smile grows on his handsome face.

“Forgiven?” He arches a brow and tilts his head, exposing a damn dimple. Once again, I see how women easily drop their panties and fall into bed with him.

My panties will stay intact, though.