Trying to impress her, he thought he’d be a little creative in his response. He hoped she would excuse him calling so late and perhaps lean the conversation the way he wanted it to go.
“Is it two o’clock?” he asked inquisitively. “I’m so sorry! My flight just touched down from Los Angeles not too long ago. I guess I’m still adjusting to the time difference.”
The girls looked at each other in the car, knowing he was lying through his teeth. They were barely able to hold back the laughter pressing through their held breaths, but they did.
Sydney, although amused by his tactics, cut straight to the point to stop him from digging himself any deeper. “So, I take it your calling me this late has nothing to do with you watching me all night from your little booth?”
He hadn’t expected that. He was sure she hadn’t noticed him because he couldn’t remember a moment when he took his eyes off of her long enough to give her the chance.
“Are you still there?” she asked in response to his silence.
“I’m here. I’m just a little, well, embarrassed,” he chuckled.
“Well, you should be, Mr. Mason,” she added playfully.
Her tone was comforting and, given the tension he thought was developing, it was needed.
Sydney was just pulling up in front of her house, where her girlfriends had left their cars. She lived in a duplex not too far from the city, so all of her parking was side street. Her friends were slowly gathering their things, trying to wait and see where the rest of the conversation was going. Mason overheard them laughing, and their light conversation, in the background. As if being caught in a lie wasn’t enough, now he knew they knew as well.
“I think I should start over,” he said, interrupting her goodbyes to her friends.
“That sounds like a pretty good idea.”
“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Her girlfriends stopped moving, waiting in anticipation for her answer. She moved the phone to her ear, covering it with her hand, and shot them a look.
“Good night ladies,” she said, shooing them from her car.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t know you were just getting in. If it’s too late I can give you a call back tomorrow,” he said.
She got out of her car and started walking towards her front door, her face lit up by a big smile. A part of her was actually happy to hear from him.
“How about we do this,” she said, “I’m assuming you don’t have to hang up right now, especially since you called me. Let’s see where the rest of the conversation goes and then… we’ll see about tomorrow.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
Chapter 11
Sydney had Mason on hold for over 20 minutes while she got a little more comfortable from her night out. Mason was never one to wait for anyone, but this time he did, never questioning why or whether or not he should. He sat on his sofa in front of the fireplace the entire time, listening to her move about, up and down her stairs, in and out of rooms. A few moments later she climbed into bed after pouring a glass of white wine and picked up her phone.
“Are you still there?” she asked.
“Of course.” He hadn’t taken the phone from his ear for a second..
She smiled, sipping from her glass while she pulled the blanket over her like a teenager sneaking on the phone trying to keep their parents from hearing them. There was a slight pause in the conversation as they both waited to see who was going to start it. Sydney laughed a little, realizing that he was just as caught on words as she was.
“So,” she began, “what made you finally decide to call me?”
Thank God she said something, Mason thought.
“To be honest, I wanted to call weeks ago but work had me really tied up, a lot of new projects and contracts, too many things demanding my time.”
“Really?” she humphed. “I don’t believe you, but I’ll buy it for now,” she responded playfully.
He laughed. “It was really enjoyable seeing you tonight,” he added.
“Something tells me it was a little more than that,” she suggested, “but I guess we can start off light. Since I don’t know much about you, other than what you shared at your brother’s wedding weeks ago,” she teasingly stressed, “how about we start from there. Where are you from?”
Sydney had a way of talking to people like she had known them forever, and right now was no different. Mason felt comfortable on the phone, talking and laughing with her. It was something he’d never taken the time to notice or feel with anyone in a really long time.
They talked for hours, laughing at everything that was funny and expressing hints of compassion toward the things that were not. Mason sat at the edge of his sofa staring at his glass, which was empty except for the remnants of an almost fully melted ice cube. He found himself smiling unexpectedly at just the sound of her voice. The more she talked the more he sat back and just listened.
By now Mason had already shared some of his most embarrassing stories and most rewarding life achievements with her. He shared bits and pieces of his life, not too much, and in no way everything, but he thought it was enough. Unlike him, she shared almost everything. She was originally from a small town in South Carolina, where she lived with her parents and her older sister until she decided to move to Delaware. Surprisingly, her voice was absent of a Southern accent, but that in no way took anything from his perception of her, especially not her personality and certainly not her looks.
“School is why I left,” she mentioned, laughing. “Nothing dramatic or crazy.”
Her parents and everyone else she knew were very supportive of her move; all except her older sister. She felt Sydney should’ve stayed home, met a nice guy in church, got married, and had children.
“Exactly what she did,” Sydney laughed. “I love my sister, but I am not her, and for some reason she can’t seem to understand that.”
They laughed at some of the other stories she told about her sister and other members of her family. Mason didn’t talk much about his, only about Jackson and vaguely about his father, who had passed away, but nothing of his mother or anyone else. Sydney didn’t seem bothered by it. No one’s family is perfect, and everyone has things they would rather not share, she thought. Mason definitely had those –things he never talked about.
“So how often do you get to see them?”
“Who? My parents?” She asked.
“Yeah. From the sound of it I don’t think you’d be too enthused to see your sister.”
She laughed, “I haven’t seen them since I moved out here.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“I mean, we talk at least twice a week. My dad works and travels all across the country so it’s not like I’m missing much.”
“Yeah, but seven years without being home…”
“It’s not as bad as you think. I am a grown woman, you know.”
They shared a moment of laughter in the mutual enjoyment of their conversation and continued on as if the passing night was of no concern. She wasn’t like any woman Mason had ever met, almost too good to be true.
“Okay,” he cut in, “so I have to ask you this. You’ve graduated from college. You’re young, single, no children. You’re clearly smart, funny, and remarkably beautiful …what’s wrong with you?” he asked jokingly, but still very serious.
She let a silence surface between his question and her answer that almost made him nervous.
While Sydney had the ability to make people feel comfortable enough to share almost anything with her, she was often blunt and direct when it came to what she felt strongly about or wanted –sometimes too blunt and direct. She heard what he’d asked her, and although she knew he was hinting at skeletons in her closet or something unstable about her emotionally, what she wanted to say was far from that. She wasn’t quite sure, though, if what she wanted to say would be received in the same spirit she was giving it. Who cares?, she thought.
She took
a deep breath, and let it out slowly, almost easing away any doubt he could have had, and answered him, “I don’t have you.”
The poetic articulation of her words surged through his body like the tingling sensation of fading numbness. He didn’t expect that: those words, from her, at that moment. He really didn’t know how to respond to her either. He didn’t know how to respond to himself… what he felt when she said it, why he felt what he did when she said it.
She has to be joking, he thought; either that or she really is crazy. He wasn’t the relationship type of guy, or the monogamist like his brother. He wasn’t the guy to catch feelings. He wasn’t the guy to love.
She could tell he was at a loss for words, and by then wasn’t sure if she was more direct than she should have been. She had to say something, it seemed like the ice they had already broken had completely frozen over again.
“So …about tomorrow,” she mentioned, “dinner, if I recall correctly.”
Happy she changed the subject, he knew she was referring to him asking her out to dinner. She gave him an excuse not to dwell on what he was feeling in the moment.
“You mean today?” he replied.
Yesterday was long past, and with that, she could hear the relief in his laughter. She looked behind her at the clock on her nightstand and saw that the hours had nearly reached sunrise.
“Yes…today,” she reassured him, as her voice softened with sleep. “But how about we make things a little less predictable?” she suggested.
“What do you mean?”
She snuck in a light chuckle. “I’m sure dinner for you often ends with dessert.”
He laughed, knowing she was more right than wrong.
“How about we do brunch?” she offered.
Still laughing, he replied, “Brunch sounds great.”
“There’s a diner on Concord Avenue called The Charcoal Pit.”
“That sounds appetizing,” he joked.
She laughed. “I take it you’ve never been?”
“I can’t say I have,” he admitted.
“Trust me, you’ll like it. Can you meet me at 11:30?” she asked.
“11:30 it is.”
They toyed with the idea of trying to figure out who would hang up the phone first. Neither of them said anything, but it was pretty obvious. Even though it was late and they were both tired, they didn’t want to get off the phone.
“I guess this is good night then, Ms. Sydney.”
“I guess it is…”
She rolled over in her bed, looking out at the sun just beginning to rise.
“Goodnight Mason, and thanks for the drinks tonight.”
Mason hung up the phone, baffled by the entire conversation. By then the glass he drank from earlier was dry, as if nothing had ever been in it. He sat it on the counter and headed back upstairs, trying to beat the sun before it rose any more than it already had. His hands pressed against his bedroom door but as it inched open, he was reluctant to push it any farther. Until then, he had completely forgotten that Erika was lying in his bed sound asleep. As quiet as he tried to be, the quick sound of the door closing was enough to interrupt her sleep.
“Did you bring me something to drink?” she attempted to ask, but her words faded, merging together as her eyes drifted back to sleep.
She hadn’t realized he was just now coming back to bed.
He lay there listening to the sounds of Erika breathing softly beside him. This is crazy, he thought. Within arm’s reach was a woman he’d slept with only hours ago, now asleep in his bed, and yet all he could think about was Sydney. He turned one way in his bed, forcing his eyes closed, and then turned to the other side. The more he tried to force himself to sleep, the harder it became. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement that pulsed through his veins or the unexpected nerves that found themselves settling at the bottom of his stomach. For the strangest reason, though, talking with Sydney and knowing he would be seeing her again in only a few hours felt really good. Unfamiliar, but good.
Chapter 12
Morning had fully arrived. A brisk breeze blew through an open window in Mason’s bedroom, just enough to wake him. His eyes were heavy with a lack of sleep as he sluggishly tried to get out of bed.
“Get up,” he mumbled, forcing himself awake again as time seemed to pass minutes like seconds.
Erika was still asleep beside him, barely covered by the sheets or blankets on the bed. He glanced over his shoulder just enough to notice the parts of her that were still uncovered. As inviting as her body was, still unclothed, and usually enough to prompt him to pick up where he left off the night before, this time he didn’t. Aside from the fact that she was asleep in his bed, he gave her no other thoughts.
The screech from the turning faucet was followed by water flowing from the showerhead like a jet hose. It neither bothered nor woke Erika from her sleep at all. He stepped into the shower, pushing steam into the bedroom as it rolled across the ceiling through the cracked door. So many thoughts ran through his mind as he stood in the shower, letting the drops of water become the soundtrack to his thoughts. He was intrigued; he’d give Sydney that. He was interested; he’d give her that, too. He still couldn’t answer why. In the moment he met her and in the few moments he’d spoken to her, Sydney was nothing like Erika, he thought, who only came around for sex. Quite frankly, she was nothing like any other women he had been involved with. If he was honest with himself, a part of that scared him.
He stepped out of the shower as the water ran down his legs onto the marble floor and wiped steam residue from the mirror while drying off. It’s just brunch, he reassured himself. The clock in the bathroom, just beside the towels, immediately grabbed his attention as the numbers reflected on the glass shelves. 10:27 a.m. His face filled with panic; he was going to be late! The towel fell from his waist at the bathroom door as he rushed to get dressed, careless of the noise he was making. He threw on a pair of dark blue jeans and pulled a shirt from his closet, rattling the hangers on the rails. I’m going to hit traffic, he thought to himself, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him.
Normally it would take twenty minutes at most to get to Concord Avenue from where he lived, but it was a Saturday morning on Labor Day weekend with beautiful weather. Not running into traffic was highly unlikely.
He closed the garage door as he sped down his driveway and out onto the street. It was that sound that woke her. Erika climbed out of the bed holding the sheet around her and walked towards the window overlooking the driveway. She couldn’t see him, but she could still hear his loud exhaust even though he was gone from sight. More than that, the smell of his cologne still lingered in the air. Why he left without saying goodbye or good morning, she thought little about. This was classic Mason to her. Not much for conversation outside of what ultimately led to his bed, and like many others, she was okay with that. She picked up her clothes from beside his bed, got dressed, and left his house shortly after.
The clock above the bar stools in the diner read 11:39.
“Ma’am, are you ready to order?” The waitress asked.
The table was set for two. There were menus on each side, two glasses of water, and silverware rolled in white napkins.
She looked up at the waitress, who had already been over to the table twice since she had gotten there. “I’m sorry, if you could give me a few more minutes I’d really appreciate it,” she replied.
She slid the menu in front of her as the waitress walked away. Minute by minute passed and no Mason. She glanced over to her cell phone a number of times, debating whether or not she should call him to make sure he hadn’t overslept.
“He’ll be here,” she kept telling herself.
After all, he didn’t have any other reason not to show up. Or does he?, she thought. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was playing against the odds. Despite her attraction to Mason and the two of them talking on the phone for hours, deep down inside she knew his type. She’d known it from the first
time she met him at Jackson’s wedding. His charm and wit didn’t come without that small disclosure at the bottom: not looking for a relationship. Not that she was, either, but she knew men like Mason, as successful, young, and attractive as he was. Men like him who weren’t already married were only interested in one thing, although she was really hoping that wouldn’t be the case with him.
She sat patiently at her table across from an empty seat as another ten minutes went by. The waitress tending to other customers noticed she had closed the menu and assumed she was finally ready to order. She smiled, nearing the side of her table, and pulled out a pen and a receipt book. Sydney looked up at her and cleared her throat, preparing to order.
Her eyes were filled with disappointment and embarrassment. “I think I’m going to have the…uh…” she began, conveniently losing herself in the menu.
Her voice was low and saddened.
A few feet from her, the door to the diner swung open. From where she sat she couldn’t see the person’s face, but she was close enough to recognize his voice deep, soft, and sexy.
“Just one?” The hostess asked.
Looking over her shoulder, he responded, “I’m actually meeting someone.”
Sydney’s eyes softened with a sense of comfort seeing him walk through the door. Although he was late she was just happy he had shown up.
With a forced smile, past his discomfort of being as late as he was, he was apprehensive to pull out the seat across from her.
“Better late than never,” he suggested with a nervous smile.
She chuckled modestly, brushing off his sense of humor.
“I hope you know you’re paying,” she said, looking over the menu that she had picked up to conceal her huge smile.
“Did you order yet?” he asked, opening the menu.
“I was actually just about to,” she laughed.
Her eyes traveled the lines that shaped his low, clean cut face to the lines of his goatee, from his lips, which she found irresistibly desirable, down to the shirt that fell and framed the broadness of his shoulders. His arms filled out the sleeves well enough for her to picture herself inside of them, and she did just that. He was handsome, more so than she’d remembered, and far more than she was able to see through the dim lights at The Avenue.
Where We Left Off Page 6
