Figure out what’s going on. Contact him.
Call him? No. I’ll do one better.
If he’s changed his mind, he can tell me to my fucking face.
With determination fueling my steps, I grab some cash out of my wallet and dart out of the kitchen. “I’m taking my lunch!” I yell out, pushing through the door and stepping out onto the sidewalk.
Joey calls out something behind me, something motivating.
My spine straightens.
Yes. Feminine power. Why didn’t I do this earlier?
I sprint across the street, grateful for my choice of flat, comfortable footwear, and pull on the studio door handle.
Locked.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I knock several times on the glass. I pound on it. Maybe he’s upstairs hanging out between classes. Hiding out from me.
Pulling away. Needing his own minute.
Growling when he doesn’t materialize in front of me with a believable explanation for his sudden absence from my life, I tug my phone from my pocket and dial his number.
It doesn’t ring. His voicemail picks up.
“Oh, really? Is that how we’re going to play this?”
Anger sizzles in my blood. I’m furious. With myself, for not contacting him yesterday. With him. More myself though, and that only dials up my rage. I asked for this, and now I’m reacting because he’s only giving me what I thought I wanted.
He couldn’t fight me a little? Show some defiance?
Damn him for being so understanding.
Stowing my phone away after deciding against leaving a message, I head down the sidewalk toward the restaurants, my feet commanding on the pavement.
Not that I need to eat. I’ve inhaled half of my weight in cupcakes already and it’s only one o’clock. My mouth still tastes like raspberry mousse.
I blame men for any weight I might gain today. All men. The entire race.
Especially ones with sexy accents and stunning physiques.
The warm sun presses into my skin as I walk around the corner. I push up the sleeves of my silk blouse above my elbows and pop another button.
I decide on Grinders for lunch, a little sandwich shop Joey turned me on to years ago. It’s the closest in proximity to the bakery, which will allow me to return back to my perch and watch out for Mason so I can have it out with him sooner rather than later.
Stepping under the green awning, I move through the busy outside seating area and head for the door, stepping aside for customers carrying trays. I follow behind a group of business men in suits. When I’m nearly inside the cafe, a laugh turns my head in the direction of the tables and chairs in front of the other half of the building.
A familiar laugh.
I stop, causing someone to bump into my back.
“Sorry,” I mutter, stepping aside and searching the crowd. It only takes me another second to focus on Mason as he laughs again, his head falling back with his obvious enjoyment.
My stomach flutters.
I move closer, through the line of people filing at the door. My eyes lock on the person he’s laughing with, sharing a table with, a meal with.
A date with?
A woman. A young woman, with red hair and striking beauty, laughs with a napkin to her mouth. Her attention wrapped up in Mason. Her eyes trained on his. The two of them are sitting alone at a table in the corner by the wrought iron fence that wraps around the cafe. An intimate spot, maybe?
It sure as fuck looks like it.
My jaw aches as I grind my teeth. My nostrils flare. I cross the pavement with heavy steps and stop next to their table.
Their table.
Mason looks up at me, surprise manifesting in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak.
I don’t let him.
“Who the hell is this?” I point my finger in the general direction of the redhead. I can’t look away. My eyes stay glued to his. “Are you sleeping with her?”
The woman gasps, then goes completely silent.
Mason winces. “What?”
“What?” I echo, leaning down, keeping my finger extended in the air. My hand shakes. “I said, are you sleeping with her? Is that what you’ve been doing the past two days? Fucking someone who isn’t me? Fucking anyone?”
My voice cracks and my eyes sting. I lean away as Mason stands from the table.
“Come here.” He reaches for my arm. His voice is hard, angry.
Like he has a right.
I step back. “No! You tell me right now where you’ve been! Where have you been, Mason? With her? Where!”
Tears spill down my cheeks in heavy drops. My lip trembles.
It’s strange how quickly your mind can conjure up the worst possible scenario. Self-harm at its finest. Mason and this woman, images of them together, intimate, laughing. It’s all I can imagine when I look at him right now.
In a movement too fast for me to avoid, he grabs my arm above my elbow with one hand while his other seals to my waist. “You’re making a scene. There are children around,” he whispers harshly against my hair, moving me across the pavement.