telltale shimmer disappeared.
“I moved out,” Laila blurted.
Mason nodded. “I figure that out when I knocked and met our new neighbor—I mean, my new neighbor,” he corrected.
There was another long silence.
“Why?” he murmured.
“I…I had to leave,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “It was such an expensive place, and my friend Rosamie put our names in the university housing lottery. She got us a room in graduate student housing. It’s much cheaper.”
“I see.” And he did. Between this bakery job and her classes, Mason knew how many hours she worked. Sometimes, it had seemed as if she were dragging herself up the stairs. More than once, Mason had been tempted to pick her up and carry her up himself. I should have done it.
A cheaper place would help relieve some of that burden. “How long ago was that?”
His voice was sandpaper rough.
“The week after you left.”
He nodded, throat perilously tight. “And your phone? I called you a few times.”
More like a few dozen…
“I broke it in the stairwell,” she said in consternation. “I have a new one. My old number couldn’t be ported to my new carrier.”
“Oh.” In a way, it was a relief. At least she hadn’t blocked him. “I’m glad you’re okay, too. I was worried when I saw my plants. I thought something had happened to you.”
Laila’s brow creased. “What was wrong with your plants?”
He laughed. “They’re all dead.”
Her hand flew up to her to cover her mouth. “Oh, no! But Mrs. Turnbull was supposed to water them. I showed her what to do step-by-step.”
Clearly, Laila had never gotten his note. “I guess she forgot,” he said softly.
Laila staggered, leaning on the counter for support. “I can’t believe she didn’t do it. I even gave her all the money you paid me, too!”
He couldn’t help but smile, despite the circumstances. Laila was so adorable in her indignation.
“Is that why you’re here? Because of the plants? Are you—” She broke off, swallowing hard. “Are you mad because they’re dead?”
“Who’s dead, babe?” a man asked at the same time Mason opened his mouth to say no.
“His plants,” Laila said as Mason whirled to face the newcomer.
“His what?” The guy laughed, causing a few heads to turn. The females in the vicinity paused to admire the younger man.
The brown-haired man was only a few inches shorter than Mason but almost as wide. His chest and arms were muscular, indicating he worked out, although his legs were too lean for real stamina. The guy was strong, but he didn’t do manual labor. That much was clear by his preppy clothes and expensive watch.
From his easy and familiar manner—and the ‘babe’—it was obvious he and Laila knew each.
Mason instantly hated him.
“It’s not funny, Joseph,” Laila admonished. “Mason had a lot of plants, some very expensive ones, too.”
She put her hand to her forehead. “Oh God, the orchids alone were worth hundreds of dollars—maybe more.”
There was a slight sway as if she were going to be sick. “Mrs. Turnbull agreed to water them for me. I gave her all the money you’d paid me for the last two times you were out of town. She’s a retired teacher—I thought she’d be reliable.”
“Babe, calm down. He’s not going to sue you over some plants.” Joseph smirked, turning to Mason. “You’re not, right?”
This time the ‘babe’ was reverberating so loud in Mason’s mind that he didn’t answer right away, making Laila visibly more anxious.
“Of course not,” he choked out, forcing a soothing tone. “I was just concerned that something had happened to you. I take it that Mrs. Turnbull is now in possession of my spare key?”
“Yes,” Laila said, her eyes going from him to the preppy dude and back again.
The man put his hand out. “Joseph, Joseph Dubey.” The way he pronounced his name, stressing the syllables in such an obvious way, raised Mason’s hackles.
Even more than his clothes, Dubey’s smug confidence screamed money. Mason wouldn’t have held that against the other man, but there was something off-putting about him. Maybe it was the wafts of privilege. They stank like a fine cologne that made everyone sneeze. It was certainly too much for Mason.
This guy expects everyone to know his name. Mason suppressed a snort. In his circles, everyone probably does.
However, Laila was watching him so intently that Mason couldn’t be rude. He shook the offered hand with his only available one, letting go as soon as good manners would allow. “Mason Lang.”
He refocused on Laila. “I’m sorry you had to