Beneath This Mask (Beneath, #1)(69)

I’d waited for nothing.

I left the airport wondering how much longer I could wait for this woman.



Derek met me at the bar.

“I take it she wasn’t on the plane.”

“No.” My tone was clipped. I really didn’t want to talk about it. About her. I wanted to get drunk. “Maker’s. Neat,” I told the bartender.

“Yes, sir.”

“So what are you going to do? You going up there?”

I turned to Derek. “Can we just drink?”

“Come on, man. You gotta have a plan. I know you. You always have a plan.”

He was right. Except, for the first time in my life, I didn’t. “Charlie has a habit of blowing all of my f*cking plans to pieces.” The bartender set the bourbon in front of me, and I picked it up and took a healthy swig. “You want to know what my plan was for today? I was going to pick her up at the airport, and it was going to be romantic as hell. Instead, I watched luggage go round and round the baggage claim for four f*cking hours, and she never came. Killed my sense of romance.” I tipped back the rest of my drink and smacked the glass down on the bar. “So now, I just want to get drunk enough so I can stop thinking about everything for a few hours. How’s that sound?”

Derek studied me with all too knowing eyes. “How long are you going to chase this girl before you finally give up on her?”

The thing that sucked about having a best friend who’d known you since childhood was that he wasn’t afraid to ask a question you weren’t ready to answer. I wasn’t ready to give up on Charlie yet, but I was nearing the edge of my fortitude.

I gestured to the bartender to pour me another. Derek stayed silent, clearly waiting for a response. Refilled drink in hand, I turned back to him. “What? How the f*ck do you expect me to answer that?”

He shrugged and sipped his drink. “With the truth, I guess.”

“The truth is, I don’t know. If you were in my shoes, would you have stopped chasing Mandy?”

He swirled the liquor in his glass. “No. But still, there comes a point when she’s gotta push all her chips into the middle too. You’ve both gotta be all in.”

“You think I don’t know that?” My frustration ratcheted up a few more notches.

“I don’t know what to say, man. I guess, if I were you, I’d give it a few more days, and then I’d start asking myself some tough questions. Because with her history of running, you might have to face the possibility that she might never be coming back.”

I downed the rest of my bourbon. I waved the bartender over. “Can you just leave us the bottle?”

Derek looked sideways at me. “Getting hammered ain’t exactly gonna help.”

I sloshed liquor into my glass. “Sure ain’t gonna hurt.”





After one delayed flight due to mechanical problems, one missed connection because I’d misread my boarding pass, and one uncomfortable night of no sleep on a bench in the Atlanta airport, the plane touched down in New Orleans at eleven AM. I waited impatiently for the passengers ahead of me to grab their luggage and disembark. The saying, ‘a day late and a dollar short’ kept running through my head.

As the cab approached the familiar iron gates, topped with intricate fleur de lis, I struggled to piece together what the hell I was going to say.

I’m sorry seemed so … inadequate.

I paid the driver and climbed out. I faced the fence that separated me from Simon. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Just like before, there was more than metal between us. There were the lies, the truth, and everything else. I wondered if we could really overcome it. I reached for the button on the intercom, but paused when I spotted Simon through the vine-covered bars.

He was holding a leash.

Connected to my big mutt.

Huck’s head jerked up, and a series of deep barks ripped through the stillness of the late morning. His huge body lunged forward, tugging the leash from Simon’s hand.

Simon turned and froze.

He looked like hell. Tired. Ragged around the edges. He was barefoot, wearing khaki cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. His hair was shaggy, curling around his ears in a way that suggested he’d had more important things to worry about than making time for a barber. Several days’ worth of beard covered his jaw. He was still gorgeous, but once again, I was faced with a different Simon than I’d ever seen before. His expression gave nothing away. And it certainly didn’t fill me with hope.


Huck trotted—without limping—toward the fence. He whined and pawed and licked my hand through the bars.

I scratched behind his ear, and he leaned into my touch. “Missed you, too, baby,” I whispered.

Simon took his time crossing the lawn. When he finally came close enough, I could see the dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi.” It was the lamest opening line, but I didn’t know what else to say.

Simon stopped in front of the gate and watched me. He didn’t reply.

I’m not sure how long we stood, just staring and trying to guess what the other was thinking. The seconds ticked by in almost painful silence.

I remembered the last time we’d played emotional chicken. It seemed I’d have to swerve first this time, too. “I—”

He spoke at the exact same moment. “I waited at the airport yesterday. For four hours. When you didn’t show up, I thought you’d decided to keep running.”