Falling for the Fling

by Lili Valente

  “What time?” I ask.

  “In the morning,” she says. “The entire morning. Especially whatever time Mason is coming to pick you up.”

  “Oh come on, Aria, be nice,” Melody snaps in a rare burst of temper. She raises her voice so rarely even Aria tends to pay attention when she does.

  “Fine!” Aria rolls her eyes. “I’ll be nicer to him.” She takes a sip of her cocoa, grimacing as she swallows. “But for the record, I think Mason should stay on the suspicious list for at least another month. You’re making this entirely too easy for him.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” I say, silently thinking that tonight was anything but easy for Mason. “But that’s my choice to make.” I back away from the table. “See you two in the morning.”

  “Night, Lark,” Melody calls after me as I move toward the stairs.

  I wave and head up to my old bedroom, the one I lived in when I first met Mason. It’s still decorated the way I left it, with light blue paint and old restaurant signs I’ve collected since I was a kid nailed to the walls.

  I decided I was going to run a fancy restaurant—not a string of BBQ shacks like my dad and mom—when I was five. I started my first imaginary café when I was six, designing a sign and a menu and forcing Melody and Aria to play “out to dinner” for hours every weekend. I always dreamed of being a cook, and of having my own restaurant someday. It used to be my one, all consuming, “when I’m grown up” fantasy.

  So many of my friends in high school daydreamed about getting married and having babies, but, though I wasn’t opposed to getting married and having kids, I never thought about settling down right out of high school. It seemed like such a far-away thing, something to consider once I graduated with my business degree and started down the road to making my dream come true.

  It wasn’t until I met Mason that I started to imagine myself with a new last name, to think about a future with someone else in it, a forever someone, someone I would grow up with and grow old with, who would share my life and help me bring new lives into the world.

  Not long before he left, we talked about kids, about how many we wanted—three for me, four for him—and when we might be able to start a family. We agreed we should wait until Mason was finished with his residency, but that if a baby surprised us a little earlier, well…that wouldn’t be the end of the world, either.

  We were so in love, a baby had seemed like the natural next step, even though I was only twenty-one and Mason twenty-five.

  When he left, I mourned the death of more than our relationship. I mourned the babies we would never have, and all the other dreams we’d dreamed together that would never come true.

  But now…

  Now…

  I fall onto my double bed with the frilly white comforter with a giddy sigh. My hope is still so new that it makes my heart beat faster every time I think about it.

  Mason and I are going to give this a shot. A real shot. A shot that might very well end in the resurrection of every buried dream, the fulfillment of every deferred hope.

  It is...a heady thought.

  So heady, I don’t know how I’ll be able to fall asleep, not with tomorrow and the day after and the day after rolling out before me like a rainbow leading to treasure.

  But eventually I do sleep, and dream of a big wedding of my own, one with lots of friends and family and flowers, and Mason waiting for me at the end of the aisle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mason

  Date Four

  * * *

  “Pancakes, or waffles?” Lark scrunches her nose and puckers her lips, making her thinking face.

  “Or maybe we should order two of each to share?” she muses. “Or maybe two pancakes, and one waffle, since waffles are bigger? What do you think? And where do we stand on side dishes today? Sausage is a yes, obviously, but maybe we need grits, too? With cheese on top?” She shoots me a serious look over the edge of her menu that makes me laugh.

  “What? Don’t laugh,” she says, grinning. “This is a serious decision!”

  “Sorry, I’m just...” I trail off with a smile, admiring the way the morning light streaming through the diner window makes her hair glow a soft gold, the way her smile lights up the restaurant, drawing people’s attention as they drift by our booth in search of a table.

  “Just what?” she asks, her eyes shining.

  “I’m happy. So happy. Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me,” she says, taking a slow sip of her coffee, watching me over the rim the entire time, making my pulse leap. And then she murmurs, “It’s my pleasure,” and it starts to pound.

  “I really like the way you say that word.”

  “What word?” she asks. “It’s?”

  I shake my head.

  “My?” she teases. I narrow my eyes and she grins before adding in a husky voice. “Oh, you mean…pleasure.”

  “Or we could get breakfast to go,” I say, making her laugh.

  “Of course not. Eating in is part of the fun. You can’t get endless coffee refills at home, and we have many adventures to adventure today before we rest.” Lark sets her cup back onto its saucer. “So seriously, it’s time to get serious.”

  “Seriously serious?”

  She nods. “Yes. I need your feedback to select the perfect breakfast.”

  “Let’s order one of everything and eat until our stomachs explode.” I push my menu to the edge of the table. “Happiness makes me hungry.”

  “Happiness makes me hungry, too, but there will be no exploding stomachs. We’ll stop just shy of that point,” she says, setting her menu on top of mine. “I need your stomach intact for the next phase of my plan to make you even happier than you are already.”

  “Oh?” I lift an eyebrow.

  “Aria’s going to pick up some flank steak at the store today for—”

  “Flank steak with avocado sauce,” I finish, with a foodie groan of anticipation. It’s Lark’s first original recipe and was my favorite back when we were dating. “You’re a unicorn princess. Or something even better. A unicorn princess goddess of flame-kissed meat.”

  She beams. “I figured we could have a cookout at my parents’ house tonight, and give Melody and Aria a chance to get to know you again. We can play badminton in the backyard, let Felicity crawl around in the grass and be adorable, that sort of thing.”

  My enthusiasm level drops a degree or two. The thought of spending the evening with Aria glaring at me across the picnic table in the March’s backyard isn’t the most appealing thing I’ve imagined today. She was civil this morning, but it’s obvious she still isn’t a fan.

  “Aria will be nice, I promise,” she says, reading my thoughts. “We had a long talk last night.”

  “A long talk about what?” I ask as the waitress stops next to our table, her pad and pen in hand.

  “Y’all decided?” she asks in a chipper voice.

  “Yes,” Lark says. “We’ll have two pancakes, one waffle, an order of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, a bowl of grits, also with cheese, but American on that, a side order of sausage, and two biscuits. All to share, so could you also bring an extra plate, please?”

  “Of course.” The waitress tops off our coffees before hustling over to the computer to type in the order.

  “That was hot,” I murmur beneath my breath.

  “The way I order food?” Lark asks, her smile widening when I nod. “What can I say? I know what I want, Mason, and I’m not afraid to ask for it.”

  “And that was even hotter.” I lean forward, elbows propped on the table to add in a whisper, “Am I going to be allowed to kiss you today?”

  “Very possibly.” She shoots me a look that makes my pulse pick up all over again. “Now, what were we talking about?” She takes my hand, sending a hum of pleasure shooting up my arm.

  “I don’t remember,” I say, grinning. “Probably wasn’t important. Not as important as my plans for us for tomorrow.”

  “And what
are those?”

  “I got tickets for the musical playing at the Lyric in Atlanta. The matinee.”

  “You didn’t!” She laughs. “You hate musical theater.”

  “But I lo…” I swallow the word, not wanting the first time I say it to her to be so casual. “I really like you, and you really like musical theater. And I like happy hour at Damon’s after the show.”

  “Sounds like a heavenly fifth date.” Lark threads her fingers through mine with a sigh. “I’m going to be so spoiled after this week. I won’t ever want to go back to work.”

  “Well, maybe you could take a few more days off,” I say, wheels turning. “We could go somewhere. Camping, or to Hilton Head if you don’t mind a long drive.”

  Her brow furrows. “Both sound amazing, but I can’t. I have five weddings coming up in June, two corporate parties that want a big spread, and three baby showers. I’m going to be working like a dog until the middle of July, and I just added another wedding in August. Not that I’m complaining,” she hurries to add. “I’d rather have too much work than not enough, but it would be nice to have a few more days with you.”

  “We have as many days as you’ll give me,” I say, squeezing her hand. “We’ll find time to be together. I don’t start work until next month and when I do I’m one of five doctors at the practice. We share rounds and take turns being on call, so the hours shouldn’t be nearly as deadly as med school or residency. And Bliss River’s only an hour from the city. I could be at your place by six thirty or so most nights.”

  She shakes her head slowly back and forth.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I ask. “Has traffic gotten worse since I left? I used to be able to make it home from Atlanta in fifty minutes, an hour tops, but—”

  “No, it’s not that,” Lark cuts in, shaking her head. “It’s just…this. Us. It’s blowing my mind a little.”

  My ribs tighten. “Me too. But in the best way.”

  She nods, easing the pressure in my chest. “Definitely. I can’t remember the last time I felt so—”

  “Lark? Lark March, is that you?” The voice is so high-pitched it’s nearly a squeal and loud enough that the entire front section of the diner turns to stare as a vaguely familiar brunette wearing a t-shirt that reads “Soccer Mom and Proud of It!” wiggles up to our table and my stomach drops.

  This woman is grinning at Lark with one eye, but shooting daggers at me with the other.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mason

  Lark detangles her hand from mine with a guilty expression. “Vicky! What’s up? How are you?” She stands, moving to embrace the other woman, who shoots me another not-so-nice glance over Lark’s shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” Vicky says as she hugs Lark. “Just meeting some girls from my old Baby and Me class for breakfast while the kids are at school.”

  “You’re kidding.” Lark pulls away, but remains standing next to our booth, her back turned just enough to exclude me from the conversation. “Is Braxton already in school?”

  “And Braden, too. He started kindergarten last year.”

  “That’s so crazy! It seems like your wedding was like, what? Two minutes ago?”

  “We’re celebrating our tenth anniversary this year.” Vicky beams the smug beam of the happily married, the beam that used to make me want to vomit when I was in New York and wondering if winning Lark back was nothing but a pipe dream.

  “I heard Aria was back in town,” Vicky continues. “You remember she was one of my bridesmaids.”

  “I do,” Lark says. “I’ll tell her you said hi.”

  “Do that, and tell her to call me! We need to do some catching up. I can’t wait to hear all her news and see that new baby of hers. I’m dying to hold a real baby.” She sighs. “All mine are getting too big to want to snuggle with Mama. I keep telling Brent we should have another—I’m only twenty-nine, for goodness sakes, it’s not like we have to close up shop—but he can’t stand the diaper years. He’s so excited now that the boys are old enough to play soccer and go fishing with him on Sunday afternoons.”

  “That must be nice. Well…I’ll tell Aria to give you a call,” Lark says, edging one leg slowly back into our booth in the universal sign for “I’m ready to return to my meal now, please go away,” but Vicky continues to linger.

  “And how are you doing?” Vicky asks, with a pointed look in my direction. As soon as her gaze connects with mine, the warmth vanishes from her expression.

  Well, if this woman is going to hate me, we might as well be properly introduced.

  “Hi, I’m Mason Stewart.” I stand and extend my hand.

  “Oh, I know who you are. I sat behind you in Algebra II junior year,” Vicky says, her lips pruning. “But even if I hadn’t, I would know Mason Stewart. Everyone in Bliss River knows who you are…and what you did.”

  “Vicky, please,” Lark murmurs beneath her breath.

  “You know I’m not one to keep my mouth shut, Lark. You’re like a little sister to me,” she says. “And I wouldn’t consider myself much of a friend to you, or Aria, if I didn’t look this one right in the eye and say shame on you.” She wags a finger in my direction, like I’m a dog who just peed on the carpet. “Shame! On you!”

  Lark sighs. “Vicky—”

  “You’re right,” I say, cutting her off before she’s forced to defend me again. “What I did to Lark was shameful. Not to mention the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. Luckily, she’s been good enough to give me another chance, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving she made the right call.”

  Vicky sniffs, looking somewhat mollified. “Well, at least you know you’re a rat.”

  “Was a rat,” I correct with my most charming smile. “And thanks for being such a good friend to Lark. I’m glad she has people who love her enough to finger wag me in public.”

  Vicky’s mouth twitches on one side. “Well,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “He always was too smooth and good looking for his own good, but you keep him in line, honey. And make sure that engagement ring is big enough to blind people from fifty feet away.” She leans in, hugging Lark one last time. “See you later, sugar! Don’t forget to tell your sister to call me.”

  By the time Vicky finally hustles away to the opposite corner of the restaurant, Lark’s cheeks are bright pink with embarrassment.

  “I am so sorry,” she whispers, sliding back into the booth, clutching her coffee like a lifeline.

  “Why are you sorry? I’m the rat.”

  She shakes her head, keeping her eyes on her cup. “It’s this town. Everybody knows everything about everyone else. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t called all my friends the night you proposed, but—”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I cut in. “I did. And I have to deal with the fallout.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to put up with people calling you a rat every time we’re out together,” she says. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not so bad.” I shrug. “And it can’t last forever. Within a few months, we should run into everyone who hates me on your behalf. Eventually I’ll have apologized to all of them and we can move on with our lives.”

  “I don’t know.” She lifts a dubious brow. “Between the three of us, the March sisters have a lot of friends.”

  I smile. “Not surprising. You’re fun people. Even Aria,” I add with a wink.

  Lark laughs softly. “Poor Aria. But she’s smart, you know? She’s refused to tell anyone what happened with her and Liam after they moved to Nashville. Not even Mom or Dad. No one’s going to be talking about her behind her back.”

  “Of course they will. If they can’t find any factual dirt, they’ll just make something up,” I say. “The gossips in this town don’t have anything better to do. You know that.”

  She lifts one shoulder. “Maybe, but at least she has her pride. Everyone won’t be thinking she’s an idiot for going back to the man who made her the most pitied girl in Cobb Co
unty.”

  I frown, a sour feeling flashing in my chest for the first time this morning.

  The waitress chooses that moment to return with our order, and soon the table is covered with hot, greasy, delicious diner food. But when Lark begins to scoop out eggs and grits, I sit with my hands braced on either side of my empty plate.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks after a moment.

  “Nothing.” I fiddle with my fork.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing. You’ve got your curtains face on.”

  When I need to, I’m good at keeping my emotions concealed, another skill learned when I was young and had to be careful not to make any of the volatile grown-ups in my house angry. But most people don’t realize that I’ve gone underground. Only Lark has ever noticed when the curtains are drawn.

  I shrug. “It’s not a big deal, I just…” I put the fork down and look her straight in the eye. There are people I don’t mind hiding from, but Lark isn’t one of them. “You’re not an idiot, and I don’t want you to feel like one.”

  “I don’t.” Her brows furrow in confusion for a moment before she realizes what I’m talking about and her forehead smoothes. “Oh, you mean what I said before. It doesn’t matter, Mason. Really. Let the gossips and Aria’s friends and my friends think whatever they want. I don’t care. I know I’m making the decision that’s right for me.”

  “You do?”

  “I do. You’re right for me,” she says in a soft voice. “And I would rather live through a hundred embarrassing moments than live without you in my life.”

  “I love you,” I say, not caring if this isn’t the perfect, romantic moment. It’s the truth, my most important truth, and I want her to know it.

  “I…I love you, too,” she says, with a nervous rush of breath.

  “Scary?”

  She nods. “Yeah, but good. And true. No sense pretending that it’s not.”

  “I don’t want you to pretend.” I find a path between the waffle plate and grits bowl and take her hand again. “And as soon as I can afford it, I’m getting you a blinding engagement ring.”