Chapter Twenty-Six

Mason

We’ve had our dinner—ham for Mom, Dad, and me—ham potpie for Emmet. We’ve opened our presents—an expensive new watch for me, a big fancy flat-screen monitor for Emmet’s dorm room. And we’ve enjoyed our annual Christmas movie marathon—It’s a Wonderful Life for Mom and Dad, A Christmas Story for me, and Home Alone for Emmet. And still no word from Walker. I’d hoped that with it being Christmas and all…

We’re just settling into another Stevens family tradition—playing Scrabble with a tin of caramel popcorn and mugs of hot chocolate—when my mother opens up a different can of worms.

“Mason, I heard from Cassandra yesterday.”

“Did you?” I ask, trying not to look interested in anything other than the Q and the X sitting on my little tile shelf, waiting to be played.

“Yes. She wanted to check in. She was concerned that the press around her engagement might be causing problems here.”

“Yeah, well, it has,” I mutter, disinterested.

“She said she’s been trying to reach you, but you’re not returning her calls or texts.” I don’t reply, just shift the letters around, pretending to be engrossed. “She asked me about your friend…Walker,” Mom continues. “I told her I wasn’t sure what your status was there…”

“That’s because I haven’t told you.”

“And have you…been in touch with Walker?” Dad asks.

“I’m working on it,” I say, hoping the four-word reply is sufficiently vague enough that we can drop the subject.

“Maybe you should give her some time,” he suggests. “Try her again in a few months when the press have moved on to other things…”

Or not.

“Not having this conversation,” I say calmly but firmly. “Hey, Emmet, how do you like the new aquarium I got you?” I ask my brother, wanting desperately to get off the subject.

He looks up from his own rack, where he’s been shuffling tiles back and forth since his last turn. “It’s too small for an octopus,” he informs me.

“Oh, well, sorry about that, buddy. Next time I’ll get you a bigger one…”

“No. I can make this work. Thank you, Mason.”

“You’re welcome, Emmet. And thank you for the tickets to the Midwest Gem and Mineral show. Will you go with me?”

He shakes his head. “No. I bought those for you and Walker.”

“You did?” my parents and I say in tandem.

He nods, still not bothering to look up.

“That’s…that’s really sweet, Emmet. I’ll ask her…but I’m not sure she’ll want to go with me. You know we had a fight…”

“I know, you did something stupid,” he says with no inflection.

I laugh a little nervously. “Uhh, well, yeah, I guess I did.”

“But I asked her if she’d go with you and she said yes.”

I stop cold.

“Wait, what? She…she did?” I ask.

He nods but doesn’t elaborate.

“Um…so…when did she tell you that?”

“When she texted me before dinner.”

Now he’s got the undivided attention of all of us.

“Walker texted you? Why?”

“To say Merry Christmas. And to tell me to tell you to turn on your phone because she was sick and tired of leaving you messages.”

I fumble to get the iPhone out of my pocket. Sure enough, the screen is totally black. It’s dead. Again.

The parents are exchanging looks again but I don’t care.

“How long ago was this, Emmet?” I demand, hearing myself sound a little desperate.

“Three-forty-five p.m.”

“Dude! That was like four hours ago! Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“It’s the rule. We don’t interrupt the Christmas movie marathon. So I didn’t interrupt it.”

I want to be pissed with him, but I can’t. He’s just…he’s Emmet.

“Yeah, okay, well, I’ve gotta get going…” I start, getting to my feet.

“You’re going to call her then?” Mom surmises.

I don’t answer but do plant a kiss on her cheek. I give Dad a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for everything, guys. I love my gifts. I’ll pick them up when I come for Emmet in a couple days.”

“Mason…?” Dad calls after me.

“Good night!” I yell back, moving as quickly as I can so I can get to the car—and some privacy as quickly as I can, so I can get to her…as quickly as I can.

…

Once I’ve cleared the mile-long driveway, I dial her number and give myself a micro pep talk as the ring comes through my car speakers.

Okay. I’ve got this.

Right?

Do not sound anxious, Mason. Or desperate. Or miserable.

Oh, for God’s sake! Who am I kidding? I’m all of those things with a few more neuroses thrown in for good measure.

But when the sound of her voice fills the interior of my car, all of that just melts away.

“You took your sweet time,” she says, skipping over the usual phone pleasantries.

“And a very Merry Christmas to you, too, Miss O’Halloran.”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear we’re going to some rock show.”

“Well, that’s what Emmet seems to think. But I’ll understand if you’d rather not. Or if you’d prefer to take someone else, I’ll give you my ticket…”

“Yeah, because I know so many people who are just dying to get a good look at dayglow green quartz up close,” she quips.

Sarcasm! Surely that’s a good sign, right?

“There isn’t a dayglow green quartz,” I point out. “But there is Prasiolite. The name means ‘scallion-colored stone’ so that’s kinda close…”

“Dude! I didn’t ask for a history of the thing.”

I take a deep breath and straighten up my tone, deciding to just jump in with both feet. I have to try again. I need for her to know.

“I really am so very sorry, Walker.”

There’s an excruciatingly long beat as I wait for her reply.

“What’re you doing right now?”

“Uh…driving. I’m just leaving my parents’ house in Brussels.”

“Those would be the famous parents? The A-list actress and the hotshot producer? Those parents?”

“Yes, that would be them. They. Whatever…”

“I suppose they know all about me,” she mutters under her breath.

“Well, yeah, kinda. I mean, they do follow entertainment news. And read the paper. And we have a publicist who keeps tabs on anything involving our family so…no, you’re no secret, Walker. And, if I have my way, you’ll be the most prominent feature of my life. Right up there, front and center. Even ahead of my purple agate.”

She snorts and it’s like music to my ears. “Yeah, wow. You really know how to woo a girl, Stevens.”

“Is it working?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“All right, then,” I begin, willing myself to ask the scariest of the questions, “what happens next?”

She sighs and it’s a deep, long exhalation laced with irritation, exasperation, and just a hint of acquiescence. I think it just might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“I was thinking that I would accept your apology,” she says quietly. “So, apology accepted.”

“Thank you,” I reply softly. Gratefully.

“And then I thought I’d apologize to you. So, I’m sorry.”

“No need. All my fault.”

Long pause.

“Yeah, well, I could’ve handled things better. Especially after…”

“What, the bird thing? I was happy to—”

“No, not the bird thing!” she interrupts me, irritated. “The you know…the other thing…”

It takes a second for me to realize what she’s talking about. That I told her how important she’s become to me in the short time we’ve known one another.

“Of course…yeah. I meant it. I still do. Where are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, where are you—like right now?”

“I’m at home. In my room…” she informs me.

“I’ll be at the pub in an hour.”

“And if I’m not there?”

“Then I’ll be sad, but I’ll wait. Like I told you at Benny’s Birthday Bonanza, I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to decide to join me there.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah…I’d like it if you’d come and wait for me. I’d like that very much, Mason.”

I signal to take the next exit so I can change my route. And, just maybe, my destiny.