Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“That’s still risky,” Mom presses. “Tell me everything!”
“I’ll start at the beginning, but first, I need more coffee.” I get up and refill my mug and then sit down, telling them how someone hired me to see if this guy they were dating was loyal because something seemed really off. Then enters Mason, and our little arrangement was born.
It’s hard, actually, to talk about Mason without talking about how great he is…so I don’t, and I drop yet another bomb on them and tell them how Mason and I are now dating.
“I can’t stay too long,” I tell them after Mom starts bombarding me with questions about Mason. “I have to turn in my equipment to the FBI. It’s just a wire and fake ID they gave me.”
“That’s so cool. I want to go undercover!” Beth says and Mom and I laugh. She wouldn’t last minute. I give my nieces hugs goodbye and head out, going back into the city to meet Diego at a cafe near the FBI field office. He has a table and ordered me a black coffee, which is cold by the time I get there, but hey, it’s the thought that counts.
“Here you go, sir,” I say and hand Diego an envelope. It has the fake ID, phone, and the wire microphone that I wore. “Am I going to get charged for the last earpiece? Or can we just say my taxes cover it?”
Diego laughs. “I think you pay more than enough in taxes to cover a little earpiece. Oh, and while you’re here, I should invite you to the surprise party we’re putting together for Mason.”
“To celebrate his big arrest?” I ask, heart swelling with pride. Things got pretty dicey right at the end, but I knew, no matter what, I could trust Mason. Not only did he keep me safe, but he got the bad guy and had another police report filed on Cory’s inappropriate and borderline dangerous obsession with me. I know it won’t be the end of my ex-husband stalking me, but at least buy me a little time to live in peace before he starts up again.
“Yeah,” Diego replies. “And word around the office is that they’re going to offer him the promotion he has been after for years.”
“Oh! That sounds awesome. He definitely deserves it!”
Diego makes a face and leans forward, frowning. My heart skips a beat the way it does right before bad news is delivered. “Yeah, but this promotion means he’ll have to move out of state.”
“Out of state?” I repeat, even though I heard him clearly.
“Well, thanks to what we were able to recover from Enzo’s apartment, we know the Morettis are moving the bulk of their operation to the East Coast.”
“Oh.” That's all I can say and suddenly it’s like I’ve been dipped in freezing cold water because my worst fear is coming true. Now that the case is over, Mason doesn’t need me anymore. His work is the most important thing to him, and I was a fool for—once again—believing I could be important enough for someone to choose me.
And at what point is it fair to ask him to make that choice? To pick us over a job? I can’t ask him to do that and now I’m feeling like an idiot for having that talk with him only days ago about being “all in” a relationship with me. Well, it was good while it lasted and at least we would part ways on good terms unless we decide to do long distance for a while. Still, that’s assuming Mason would want to do long distance and I know I can’t jump to conclusions.
But that just seems to be how things go for me. Maybe I had my chances at love and I picked the wrong person so many times that now I’m just damned to be alone.
“Well, I have a ton of work to catch up on and have my own therapy session to attend,” I tell Diego, which is true. I’m not the best at going to my own appointments, but after everything that happened the last few days, I know I need to. But really, I want to head out of here.
The therapist in me says I need to talk to Mason before I get upset over nothing. To stay calm and remember that feelings aren’t facts. God, it’s annoying to remind myself of that. I feel for my clients when I tell them that.
“I’ll text you details for tonight. Hope to see you! The wife is coming and she’s to officially meet you.”
“That would be fun,” I say with a smile. I take the cold coffee, thank him, and head out. I should drive toward my office. Or go home. But instead, I find myself putting in the address for the Chicago FBI field office.