by Lena Hart
Mason ground his teeth together, hating to be reminded of that bit—and hating that Harlan was right. Being in the public eye wasn’t anything new for them. It had started ten years ago when the media had gotten wind that the beloved American beauty queen was now dating a Canadian jock—or “hockey’s short-tempered bad boy,” as they had put it. The media had built their relationship into some kind of fairytale, when all he had wanted at that time was to build something special with the most fascinating woman he had ever met.
Luckily, he and Jules had managed to privately build a strong, lasting relationship. He would be damned if he let the media or anyone invade their privacy and further destroy their marriage.
“Harrison is a gossip columnist, a wannabe sportswriter, who has no business in our press room. If he wants to report this to the league, let him. I’ll pay the fine and you can work on getting his press pass revoked.”
Harlan frowned. “The league is the least of our worries, and revoking his pass will be the last thing I do now, thanks to you. If we want to keep this little incident from hitting the papers—or worse, land on a police report—I now have to play nice with the guy.”
Mason muttered a curse. Once again, Harlan was right. Harrison wasn’t a player and had never been one. Throwing the occasional punch might be how some of them in the league settled disagreements, but a weasel like Harrison could make serious trouble.
As if he needed any more.
“Fuck.”
Harlan sighed. “Why don’t you take off and I’ll deal with Harrison.” He pulled out his cell phone and was nearly down the hall before he called over his shoulder, “Try not to slug anyone else on your way out.”
Mason watched him leave, then caught a glimpse of Doug hovering nearby. He blew out a weary breath.
“You should head home too, Doug.”
“All right. But can I just say how freaking epic that was! You were like”—Doug threw a swift jab in the air—“Bam, motherfucker!”
Mason cocked a brow. Though it had felt good hitting that son-of-a-bitch, the fleeting moment of satisfaction was about to cause a shit storm of problems.
“Goodbye, Doug.”
Doug glanced at him sheepishly and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m leaving. But just so you know, it’s three thirty.”
“And?”
“And you have an appointment now. I would have rescheduled it, but it’s marked private on your calendar.”
Mason glanced at his watch, then shut his eyes. Shit.
Jules was going to kill him.
Chapter 4
Mason rushed into the therapist’s office and hurried pass the startled assistant at the front desk. The petite young woman jumped to her feet as he continued toward the frosted glass door with Dr. Priya Kahn’s name etched on it.
“Excuse me, sir. You can’t go in there!”
Mason ignored the short blonde and pushed open the office door. Two pairs of stunned dark eyes swung in his direction. He glanced from the older woman sitting on the edge of the sofa, a tissue wadded in her hand, to the younger woman sitting across from her, a notepad resting on her lap. Before he could say anything, the office assistant rushed in behind him.
“Sorry, Dr. Kahn. I tried to tell him you were with a client, but he wouldn’t listen.”
The therapist plastered a smile on her face and nodded. “It’s all right, Debbie. You’re Jules’ husband, correct? Mason Courage?”
He nodded stiffly. “We had an appointment with you. Where is she?”
“You did, but your wife left here about an hour ago. As you can see, I’m with another client. If you would like to reschedule your session, please see my assistant Debbie about my next availability.”
Mason glanced down at his watch. “Our appointment was for three thirty.”
“No, it was for two thirty. We waited for you until three before she left.”
He grimaced. Fuck. “Why didn’t she call me?”
Dr. Kahn shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her.”
But deep down, Mason knew why. He was the one who had pushed for a second chance, yet once again he had let her down.
How could he have screwed this up?
“Did she make another appointment?”
“That, you’ll have to check with Debbie about. Now, if you’ll please excuse us?”
This time, her tone was sharp with irritation. Her client, on the other hand, simply shook her silver-gray head as she peered at him over her large eyeglasses. The disapproval on her face only added to the heavy lead settling in his gut.
Mason backed out of the office and followed the assistant to her desk. From her hard expression and the annoyance in her blue eyes, it was clear she didn’t take kindly to his antics either.
“Can you please check to see if my wife rescheduled our session?”
“I can tell you now that she didn’t. I tried to ask, but she was pretty upset when she left here.”
Mason winced internally at the thought of Jules leaving here angry and hurt. She was good at keeping her composure and not letting strangers know when she was upset or in pain. The fact that this woman had been able to see that made him think Jules’ pain was too great for her to mask.
That thought made him feel more like shit.
“Would you like to reschedule a session with Dr. Kahn?”
“I’ll have to circle back with my wife. Can I have her card?”
The assistant handed him Dr. Kahn’s business card, and Mason skimmed it. All of her accreditations were listed under her name, and her areas of expertise were outlined on the back. Mason now understood why Jules had selected her. He slipped the card into his pocket.
As he made his way to his car, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jules’ number. Her voicemail instantly picked up.
“Jules, it’s me. I’m at the therapist’s office now. Somehow I got the times screwed up. I’m sorry, baby. You know I wouldn’t miss this.”
He reached his car, but instead of getting behind the wheel, he leaned against the trunk. He was at a loss for the words that would redeem him. “I’m sorry” just didn’t seem to cut it. He shut his eyes, wanting to kick himself again for this huge blunder.
“Let’s reschedule, all right? I won’t screw it up next time. We can even ride over here together.” He swallowed hard, his disappointment in himself constricting his throat until it moved down to his chest. “We’ll talk more when I get home, all right? I love you.”
Mason ended the call, his shoulders stooped.
You’ve really screwed this up.
He allowed himself that last moment of self-pity before he squared his shoulders and climbed into his car. He rushed home, secretly hoping she would return his call during his twenty-minute drive. She didn’t. Instead, his phone buzzed with messages from Doug and Harlan. He ignored them all.
When Mason pulled up to their two-story Acadian-style home, he was relieved to see her car in the driveway. In his place on the driveway was a silver sedan he didn’t recognize.
He pulled up alongside Carrie’s car and got out. He thought of what he would say to his wife as he made his way into the house. Whatever he had thought up quickly vanished when he caught sight of a dark-haired man sitting in his living room. Right beside his wife. Their backs were turned to him, but the image of the unidentified man having dinner with his wife instantly came to mind.
Juliette Courage’s Mystery Man.
That was what the local news stations, and practically everyone on social media, were calling the man in the photo. Mason clenched and unclenched his hands into fists.
“Jules, who the hell is this?”
They both snapped their heads around to face him, clearly surprised by his presence. Or was that alarm? Either way, it didn’t lessen his irritation, and he didn’t wait for her to answer him.
He turned to the man, who had risen to his feet. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Mason!” Jules shot to her feet. “Language. Jeremy’s right here.
”
He pressed his lips together and came fully into the room. At the foot of the sofa, he found his son sitting on the rug, his knees curled up to his chest. To his relief, Jeremy was completely engrossed in his tablet. But that reprieve was short-lived when he realized Jules had brought some strange man near his children.
Was this one of the bastards waiting to take his place?
That thought was enough to send Mason’s blood boiling.
“What are you doing in my house?” Mason fixed his gaze on the baffled man, his eyes darting to Jules then back to him. “I asked you a question.”
“Mason, don’t be rude. This is Jeremy’s new speech therapist.”
The man started toward him, his hand extended. “My name’s Leigh Young.”
Mason gave the man a quick once-over, and Leigh let his hand drop. Leigh was a far cry from Jeremy’s former therapist. Nothing about Mrs. Reed had been this young, tall, or athletic. Where the hell did Jules find this guy?
Mason fixed his glare on his wife. “What happened to the last one you spoke to me about? Ashley something.”
Jules’ brows pulled together. “What are you talking about? This is Ashleigh.”
“My friends call me Leigh.”
“So you consider all your clients your friends,” Mason said tersely.
“Only the ones I like.”
Leigh smiled in a way that made him want to knock his teeth in. Instead, Mason went to stand by his wife.
“My wife can be very likable,” he said evenly, placing his hand on the small of her back.
Mason didn’t give a shit how possessive it made him look—or that Jules was shooting daggers in his direction with her pretty amber eyes. Whatever thoughts this guy had in his head about his wife, Mason hoped to squash them, quick.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing here in my home, with my wife and son?” His hand involuntarily tightened around her, and she shot him a quick glance.
“Sure. I was just telling Jules how much progress Jeremy has been making with the new communication app we’ve started him on.”
“That’s great. Why don’t you fill me in?”
Mason sat next to a tense Jules as Leigh explained the new alternative communication program to him. They spent the next twenty minutes going over methods to implement the new tool in Jeremy’s day-to-day routine whenever he went nonverbal. Though Mason didn’t like to push their son into something that could lead to sensory overload and a possible meltdown, he had to admit that the new communication method seemed like a simple enough process for Jeremy to adopt.
Throughout the meeting, Jules nodded and smiled and asked all the appropriate questions. She was pleasant throughout the entire debrief, but from the rigidity in her slender frame, Mason knew she was a dam waiting to burst.
When it was over, Mason walked Leigh to the door. Whatever Mason might have thought of the guy at the beginning, it was clear he was serious about his work and committed to helping their son.
“Look, I didn’t mean to bite your head off earlier,” Mason said as they reached the door. “It’s just I can never be too careful who comes around my family.”
“No, of course you can’t. You and the Cajun Rage are celebrities around here. I have a friend who’s a big fan of yours. He’s been following your career since we were in high school.”
Mason’s lips tightened. Leigh couldn’t be that much younger than him, and yet Mason felt older than his thirty-nine years. It didn’t help that he was staring forty right in the face—or the fact that with every year he aged, Jules seemed to get younger and more beautiful.
“Tell your friend I appreciate the dedication.”
Leigh nodded, and Mason shut the door after him. When he turned around, he was surprised to find Jules standing behind him.
“This doesn’t change anything, Mason.”
“What do you mean?”
“Coming here, playing the jealous husband, which was completely uncalled for. And humiliating, by the way. You clearly haven’t paid any attention to what’s been going on in this house, and today only proved my point.”
“Jules, I know I screwed up today—”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter, Mason. Nothing you say can change the fact that I gave you another chance to prove you wanted to make this marriage work, but you blew it. I honestly don’t know how much more I have left in me to keep doing this with you.”
Mason frowned, irritated by her lack of understanding. It was as if she didn’t care that she would be tearing their family apart.
“Damn it, Jules. Why can’t you see that I’m fucking trying?”
“Ooh. Daddy said a bad word.”
They both turned to find a giggling Madison peeking around the corner.
“Madison, it’s not nice to listen to grownups talking,” Jules reprimanded. “Especially when they don’t know you’re there.”
Madison pouted. “Sorry, Mommy. I just wanna say hi to Daddy.”
Jules gave her a short nod, and their daughter came running toward him. He picked her up and her small arms wrapped around his neck.
“Hi, Daddy.”
Mason held her close, breathing in her sweet scent. “Hi, honey.”
These were the small moments he treasured, the moments he would miss. Seeing and holding his children whenever he wanted was what kept his heart beating. Yet, all that would change if Jules decided to move forward with this divorce.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“Carrie,” Jules called, and the nanny hurried to where they stood.
“Yes?”
“Can you please take the children into the TV room?”
Carrie nodded and held her arms out to Madison. She shook her head and, like a repeat of the other night, tightened her arms around him.
“I don’t wanna watch TV. I wanna stay and talk to Daddy.”
Mason rubbed her back. “Madison, Mommy needs to talk to me first.”
She lifted her head from the crook of his neck. “Is Mommy mad at you?”
“Madison, we need you to go with Carrie and your brother to the other room,” Jules said. “Right now.”
“Are you going to yell at Daddy?”
Jules sighed and rubbed her temple. “Daddy and I need to have our grownup talk. Why don’t you go make cookies with Carrie?”
“I’ll come help you eat them after Mommy and I are done talking,” Mason whispered in her ear. “Okay?”
“Okay!”
Madison wiggled out of his arms and ran past Carrie toward the kitchen.
“Let’s go into the bedroom and talk?” Jules said as they overheard Carrie attempting to drag Jeremy away from his tablet.
Mason followed her into their large bedroom. His gaze fell on the large four-poster bed, then he quickly glanced away. It had been a while since they had done more than just sleep on that vintage-style bed.
He shut the door behind him, and she went to stand at the foot of the bed. She stood there rigidly, her expression a blank mask. She was trying to hide her feelings behind a serene façade, but she didn’t have to.
He knew exactly how pissed she was.
“Jules, I know you don’t want to hear excuses about why I missed our session, so I won’t bother with them. All I can say is that I’m sorry I let you down. Again. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Jules stared at her husband, trying to get a handle on the myriad of emotions moving through her.
Greater than her anger and disappointment—and even her resentment—was the terrible heartache piercing through her. She had counted on him to show up today, to assure her that he was as committed to repairing their marriage as she was. Yet with every moment that had passed, the level of her despair had only increased.
It wasn’t until it reached its peak that she had come to accept that she would never be his number one. Now he wanted her to believe things would change because he promised?
“We can reschedule for any day next week
, Jules, and I’ll be there.”
She slowly shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“No, Mason. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to snap your fingers and decide when to be present in this marriage. It’s over. It’s been over for a while now, but you’ve been too busy to notice.”
His face blanched, but there was a fire in his deep blue eyes that was distinct. “Jules, you don’t mean that. I may have been a bit preoccupied this season, but that doesn’t mean you should throw away eight years of marriage.”
“Nine.”
“What?”
“This year, we celebrated nine years of marriage.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed and he ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Okay. Nine. But you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I think I’m starting to get a clue. What you mean is that it’s okay for you to cancel our family vacation because you need to spend more time training your players. That it’s okay for you to forget our wedding anniversary because you had a game to go to.”
Jules swallowed and blinked back her tears, remembering how alone she had felt that day. “What I’ve finally understood from you, Mason, is that it’s okay for you to miss every important aspect of our family’s lives so long as your players are scoring and winning championships.”
“That’s not true and you know it,” he snapped, a fierce scowl tugging at his dark brows. “I love you. I love our kids. Nothing could replace that or take that away. Except you. You’re the one trying to take my kids from me, and I won’t let you.”
“I’m not taking the kids anywhere. I do think it’s best if you found someplace else to stay while we work through this, but you’re welcome to come see the kids whenever you find the time.” She took a deep breath then said in a rush, “I just can’t be your wife anymore. What we once had is…gone.”
His gaze sharpened on her. “Who is he?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s someone else. I know it. If it’s not the guy in the photo, it’s someone else. So who’s trying to take you away from me?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, wondering how he could see so much yet still see nothing at all.
