happy and lit-up from the inside, probably thanks to Fenn.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, all red-rimmed eyes and zero hair product. Further proof that relationships were like wide-legged pants or anything mustard yellow: fine for some, but a positively hideous look on me. I should have known better.
I did know better.
Yet here I was.
“Hey.” I gave him a little smile as I stood back from the door. “How was O’Leary?”
“Oh. It was nice, actually. Seeing Fenn hold the baby was…” He scowled. “Stop. Don’t distract me right now, Toby. What the heck is going on? Imagine me seeing my best friend’s tattoo on the news three days ago and then calling and texting him a billion times, but he never replied. I was nearly ready to detour to the fucking city before we came home, asshole.”
I winced. I’d been thinking that I didn’t want my sudden appearance in Florida to ruin Mason’s time Upstate. I hadn’t really considered that Mason would find out anyway and be worried. I guessed I’d been looking at a lot of things wrong.
“I’m sorry. My phone died. Was murdered, really.” Just saying that made me think of Beale’s teasing, and I nearly cried again as I sank down on the bed.
I took a deep breath and explained the whole story about Dive, and Jayd, and the paparazzi. I explained how I’d come here to ask Mason’s help, and how Littlejohn had helped me get into the guesthouse. All the important facts except the giant, Hagatha-shaped one.
“The guesthouse,” Mason said, breaking his silence. “Where Beale was staying.” He stood against the wall by the closet, arms folded over his chest.
“Yeah.” I found myself strangely reluctant to provide details. Beale could if he wanted to, but as far as I was concerned, what had happened between us was ours and no one else’s. “Beale took mercy on me and agreed to let me stay. He, um, knows that I’m your friend Toby. I didn’t tell him why I came here, though. Once I realized the Goodmans knew Jayd, I decided I couldn’t…” I trailed off and took a deep breath. “Anyway. His brothers randomly decided I must be his first love from summer camp years ago, so we went with that because I didn’t want anyone else to know I was Toby. I figured if they knew, they’d call you to come home and that would ruin your fun.” Marjorie curled up beside me, and I stroked her fur absently.
Mason’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Ruin my fun, Toby? Or yours?”
“Huh?”
“Were you or were you not fucking Beale Goodman in the kitchen twenty minutes ago?”
“I…” I opened my mouth and shut it again. “I mean, in the interest of accuracy, I wasn’t doing the fucking.”
“Tobias!”
“Yes, yes, fine. Obviously I was, but that’s neither here nor there.” I’d decided not to ruin Mason’s trip before Beale and I had ever done… anything.
“Neither here nor there? Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know what kind of person Beale is?”
“Yes, of course I know. I told you, I’ve spent the whole week with him. He’s—” Amazing. Brilliant. Talented. Mischievous. Gorgeous. Compassionate.
“Thoughtful and kind, Toby. Sweet and good and, like… wholesome.” Mason’s voice had this reverent tone, like he was discussing some kind of religious vision instead of an actual human.
I wrinkled my nose. Nothing he said was wrong per se, but if he thought that was all Beale was, he was blind.
“You make him sound like a chocolate chip cookie, Mason. God. He’s also really, really smart and capable.” And then because I refused to get all schmoopy over a guy who’d basically dumped me—I mean, not without cause, but still—I examined my nails closely as I added, “And he’s not as innocent as you might think. Just sayin’.”
“Ugh,” Mason groaned. “I do not wanna know that. Tobias, I understand that you change sex partners as often as most people change underwear, but you need to understand that for most of us, it means something. For Beale it means everything. He’s not one of your conquests back in the city, and it was pure selfishness for you to take advant—”
“Mase, stop. Beale and I… it wasn’t whatever you’re thinking. I told you, he knows who I am. He knows… me.” Honestly, better than Mason did in a way, since despite our years of friendship and how much I trusted Mason with other things, I’d only ever told him I was a writer, not what I