Her eyes drifted to the woman beside him, and Billie gripped the side of the house. Honey blond hair and even in profile, her smile was familiar. And she aimed it at Mason. Billie didn’t need her to turn to see that she’d have dreamy green eyes. Her hand landed on Mason’s arm, and he cocked his head when she went to whisper something in his ear.
Billie’s vision blurred, she pulled in a breath made of barbed wire, then looked away. Anywhere but at Mason’s idea of perfection, the woman she’d studied with envy and sadness when she’d framed the picture.
Pain lanced through her side, so sharp she gasped. She struggled to stand upright and keep her eyes trained down until she could gather her wits and the stinging behind her eyes stopped. Stanley suddenly bounded to her side and sat at her feet, an almost happy look on his face.
“Hey, you.” She knelt and tucked her face into his neck and held on. “Help me out here, Stan. I need to get out of here now.” She wrapped her arms tighter and pushed down the wave of emotion threatening to drown her. One thing she would not do was let Mason see how much it hurt being near him, especially not when he was with the woman he’d called his perfection.
Without looking up, she knew Mason stood near. “You doing all right down there?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice. Well, of course the man was happy. He’d just reconciled with the love of his life.
“Fine. Thank you.” She sucked in air and stood, holding one hand on Stanley’s collar, the other behind her back, her nails digging into soft flesh until that pain transcended the pain in her heart.
The man looked delicious.
Right, time to get the show on the road.
“Congratulations,” she said, indicating Monica with a flick of her head, her fingers tightening around Stanley’s collar.
He smiled down at her, and it was one of those blistering, heart stopping smiles that even a toothpaste advertisement couldn’t compete with. This time, it was an open, free smile like those in his old photographs. Of course. “Please, come with me.” Stanley pulled to follow Mason, and she released him.
Please. Had the man said please?
She ran her hand down her white summer dress.
Well this day just keeps on giving. Mason’s with his ex, and now Stanley wants to be his best man.
She blinked
Right. Get this done then go. I can do this.
She followed him into the house, past the kitchen where dozens of women and men raised their hands in greeting. The kitchen table was piled with all manner of sandwiches, sliced cakes, and sausage rolls. She raised her hand and hoped the tremble in her fingers didn’t show when she gave what she hoped was a cheery wave. Maybe they also wouldn’t notice that her smile was dipped in sugar and hung off her face.
She followed him into the office but stayed just inside the door when he stopped at her old desk. A tic pulsed under his left eye, and for some reason he looked nervous. Well, that just didn’t fly. The man was never nervous.
“I appreciate this. It’s on the thumb drive, as usual. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
She nodded, unsure of her voice, and waited until the door closed with a click. She hit play and started typing.
Hear this now. I will always come for you.
Billie frowned and paused, considered backing it up to try again, when his voice spoke once more.
Billie,
Grover, Jimbo, Denzel, Philbert and my all-time favorite, Shaft here.
Hear this now. I will always come for you.
That quote from The Princess Bride is what I want to say to you. I will always come for you. These last few days without you here have been hell, and it isn’t just your ability to turn every room into a vital piece of a home. This house is everything because of you. I’ve been living in the past too long. I blamed myself for Ruby because I was working late the night she died. I didn’t see her take her last breath. If I’d been there, maybe I would have. Or maybe not. I made a call I never thought I’d make. I met with a counselor, and we’re talking through my shit. It would appear I have a lot. Two nights ago I picked up the phone and called Monica. We met in Auckland at Ruby’s grave and talked—really talked—for the first time since her death.
Billie’s finger went to the stop button. Did she want to hear Mason talk about Monica and the love they shared? God, no. She wanted to run screaming from the room, grab her dog, jump in her car, and go. Part of her knew if she did, she’d always wonder what was on the rest of the recording, so with trembling fingers, she pushed play.
I fucked up letting you go. I don’t do this emotion shit very well, kind of figure I never will. I’ve never connected to another woman like I have with you. Part of me will always love Monica, but I’m not in love with her. She has a son and her husband Dave is a great guy. Ruby will always be her firstborn, as she will be mine. But I don’t want to live in the past anymore. I want new memories. I want this house, Billie. You’re right. I do need roots. I knew it from the beginning, but I was too busy with my…what did you call it? Pity party?
I purchased Wuthering Heights. Takahashi loves the Coromandel house. I like the people here. I’ll probably end up loving the fucking jam festival. Don’t ask me to buy a damned ukulele, though, because I won’t.
But I want to do it with you.
Me, you, and Stan. And jam. And all those goddamned pinecones.
Stay with me, Billie. You have to. Because if you don’t, hear this now. I will always come for you. And that would make me a stalker. Don’t let me turn into a stalker, Billie.
Silence. Billie tried to smile through the tears. It was beautiful, it was Mason, and it made her heart bleed with sadness. Nothing had changed in how he saw her in his life.
She stood and made her way outside.
Her eyes locked onto Mason where he stood surrounded by the people of Footsteps Bay. He looked relaxed, but every fiber in his body was locked.
He met her halfway across the lawn.
The moment of truth.
…
“Well?” Mason stared down into her filmy eyes. Stanley stood beside him, then moved to sit next to Billie.
“Your words were lovely, Mason, truly.” She looked at him, bit her bottom lip and looked away.
His stomach cramped and bats were beating the insides of his brain. “Yeah, took me about a hundred goes to do it.”
She nodded. The usual animation on her face was gone.
“And?” This was killing him.
Finally she looked up at him. “Thank you. I’m glad I helped you, I’m really glad you’re getting help, but I can’t do it, Mason, being here with you. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He blinked in surprise. “Why not?” He didn’t get it. He’d spent the whole night working that stupid machine. After talking with Monica and Jane, his counselor who he refused to call a therapist, the weight he’d been dragging around like a four-ton unexploded bomb wasn’t gone, but it had lifted and would keep lifting until it broke free. For the first time in years, he breathed easy. He’d almost hated Billie making him feel again when he’d looked at the photo of what he’d had. He thought he could go back to the way he’d been, but she’d built him a path, and he’d taken a step and couldn’t get back. Now he didn’t want to.
Billie stared at the ground, looking like she wouldn’t mind it opening under her feet about now.
She mumbled something.
He lifted her chin with his hand. “Tell me how to fix this?” He swiped a tear from her cheek.
She shook her head. “Nothing’s changed. I can’t live here with you knowing you don’t love me.” Her voice shook with emotion.
“Of course I love you.” Wait. He released her chin and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Didn’t I say that?”
She shook her head, the sadness like a tide retreating from her eyes. “You love me?” she asked, suddenly shy.
“Fuck yeah, I do. More than I ever thought I could love again.” He pulled her into his arms, and sh
e melted against him. He kissed her, pulling her closer, trying to convey the depth of his feelings. When he finally came up for air, he said, “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”
“You sure about that, Shaft?” She smiled up at him. “Have to say that was my favorite too, for well, you know, obvious reasons.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He brushed her hair from her face.
“I love you.” She linked her hands behind his neck. “What about your work? Your schedule?”
“I’ll use this as my base. I don’t need to travel as much as I did. Shit, I don’t need to travel. I’ve got more money than I can ever spend. I’ll still be around, just that I’ll be around you more. I kind of thought after you graduate culinary school you might want to open that restaurant here, and I know a dude named Heathcliff who’s an excellent barista once you teach him.”
She smiled up at him through tears.
“I love you, Mason.” She pressed her sweet lips against hers, and he pulled her close, tucking her under his chin.
“Love you, Billie. Or should I call you Boobs Birthilda?”
She laughed up at him. “Boobs Birthilda?”
“I was kind of hoping tonight you’d be in a leather beer-wench outfit and I’m thirsty.”
She seemed to mull that over. “I’ll be Boobs Birthilda if you’ll be my Heathcliff. Better ending, though. I’m not going to be calling across the fields for you.
“I’m hoping we can order up Twister and play day and night.” His eyes sparkled. “Like that bamboo place, too.”
She swatted him.
“Got a thing for the couch.” He kissed the top of her head. “Haven’t tried the washing machine yet. I’m looking forward to that one. I’ve got a thing for you, so you’re going to have to get used to it.”
She smiled up at him. “I’ve got a thing for you, too. I love you, Mason. ”
“Love you too, Cathy. Let’s rewrite Heathcliff’s ending.”
Epilogue
One year later.
“Do I look okay? God, I’m so freaking nervous.” Billie smoothed down the skirt of her pale pink dress and tried to stop her stomach somersaulting.
Sarah stared back at her, her eyes all misty. “You look divine.” She checked her watch and smiled. “Time to go.”
“Right,” Billie whispered. She stepped from her bedroom, clutching a bunch of wildflowers and walked outside. The murmur of voices stopped, and the collective heads of Footsteps Bay’s citizens swiveled in her direction. The scent of fruit bubbling in giant vats hung in the air. She had eyes for no one but the man pacing in front of the apple tree, looking his usual agitated self, stunning in a form-fitting tux. He stopped when he saw her.
She smiled at Stanley, who stood at Mason’s side, a giant black ribbon attached to his collar. He let out a giant bark when he saw her. It was a sound that she’d never tire of hearing. It was criminal she was this happy. God, she loved the man standing beside their dog, staring at her as if he wanted to devour her.
Mason walked toward her and snagged her hand. He pulled her into a bone melting kiss, and when he finally let her go, she whispered, “I think that’s for afterwards.”
“Nope, it’s for anytime.” He brushed hair off her face and she leaned into his touch.
“I’ll return the favor later.”
After saying their vows and receiving good wishes from the entire community, Billie leaned back against Mason’s broad chest, his arms circling her.
“Kind of cool that my mum and your dad could make the trip,” she said, shaking her head at her mum shimmying as she stirred a pot of fruit.
“Genius plan on inviting him. Thanks.” He kissed the back of her head.
She smiled. “I’m really glad that Monica could make it, as well.”
“She’s promised to try and make it back every year.” He released her and brushed his mouth against the back of her neck. She moaned low and sagged against him. “Let’s fill this place up with kids. Make this place full. Get them hauling vats of jam. When they go off to find their way in the world, let’s get them to come back every year and keep the tradition alive.”
She turned in his arms. Now that she’d finished up culinary school, he was ready to stop skirting the subject. They’d talked openly about Ruby, whose picture sat on his desk. She’d stuck another on the fridge. Ruby deserved to be in the room filled with love, and the kitchen at Wuthering Heights now spilled more love with Ruby in it.
Tears of love pricked her eyes. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot. You want to practice?” She smiled, feeling the familiar rush of love and heat whenever she looked up at her man.
“Hell yeah, I want to practice. I know this place where the best strawberries grow out on the back of the property. Do you want me to show you?”
She reached out and kissed him, long and hard, before she pulled back. “Yeah, I want you to show me. I’m yours, Fester.”
Beautiful baby blue eyes twinkled down at her. “Back at ya, Billie-Ray. Let’s go find paradise and make this a tradition. Every year during harvest, we sneak off to our bamboo wonderland.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Looking forward to doing this when we’re eighty.”
“Lead the way, my man. Lead the way.”
Acknowledgements
Kerri-Leigh Grady. My editor and beyond. Thank you for placing your faith in me and believing that I can write deeper, more emotional stories while still attempting hammer dances. I thank you every day for your wisdom, your patience and your all-around smarts. You’re the sun in my shine. Moon in my light. Vod in my ka.
To my besties Robin Bielman and Samanthe Beck. Along with being incredibly talented Entangled authors, who write awesome stories, you are two of the most hardworking and amazing women who inspire me every day. Thank you for the coffee, the laughter, the wisdom, for finding me and taking me under your So Cal wing. For knocking around my ludicrous ideas and helping make them work or giving me a “honey, no” look. You make my world a better place. We will always have The Bean at the Bu. I love you both.
To Alethea, Libby, Liz, Danni, Sarah and everyone at Entangled who took a chance on me. I thank you.
To Maddee from Xuni who designed an awesome website that I adore. Thank you. When all I had were vague ideas and meandering thoughts, you created exactly what I was looking for. My eternal gratitude. Always a friend.
Michelle - my belle, Carmen, Barbara, Pap-Andrea, Bec, Serena, Laurie, Sue, Lee, Amy and Dee. Friends from around the world, thank you.
To every foster dog who has wandered through our lives. My world is better for having known each and every one of you.
About the Author
Hayson grew up in a family made up of scientists and engineers, and she was told lovingly but firmly that her “daydreaming” phase would end and soon she’d be entranced by the inner workings of the periodic table. But she loved the lands she created. Oh, the creatures that stopped by. There were swashbuckling pirates and sassy unicorns, and before she knew it she’d be off on a flying carpet with Frank, a friendly chain smoking shark.
It soon became apparent she wasn’t going to be awarded the Nobel Prize for services to science.
She has been a personal assistant and a demon word processor. She’s worked in a supermarket deli where she can slice a pound of ham in record time. She’s sorted freight and she’s dreamed of writing about gutsy independent heroines who won’t give up on their dreams and who’ll go toe-to-toe with their man. Her dream has now come true thanks to Entangled Publishing.
She lives with her infuriating but adored shoe-dropping husband and two teenage boys, plus a tubby, opinionated cat. There’s often a resident foster dog who needs love, dog biscuits, and hanging with the kids on the couch before finding their forever after home.
She’d love to hear from you:
E-mail: [email protected]
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HaysonManningAuthor
Twitter: @HaysonManning
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