Resolution (Mason Family 5)

Time to move things along, Dara.

“Are you ready for the best donut that you’ve ever eaten?” I ask instead.

“It won’t be hard to accomplish that, considering I’ve eaten maybe five in my life.”

I gasp. “You’re joking?”

“You act like that’s a crime of some sort.”

“Basically, it is.” I narrow my eyes playfully. “It’s definitely a red flag.”

He shakes his head and leads me to the door.

Judy’s is empty except for the smell of cinnamon and yeast. I take a deep breath and sigh.

“That’s the best smell ever,” I say.

“It reminds me of my mother’s house during the holidays.”

My heart squeezes because it does the same for me.

“Hello, there.” Judy, a round little woman with silver hair, comes to the front of the store. She wipes her hands on a white apron. “May I help you?”

“We’re here for donuts,” I say.

She laughs. “Of course, you are. I haven’t seen you around here for a while, Dara. How are you, sweetie?”

Judy pulls me into a quick, warm hug. It feels good to have physical contact with someone.

“I’ve been good,” I tell her. “How about you?”

“Well, I’m still kickin’, so I’ll take it.” She laughs and turns her attention to Wade. “I’ve seen you before. You’re a Mason, aren’t you?”

Wade nods and tosses her a restrained grin. “Wade Mason, ma’am. You’re Hollis’s grandmother.”

Her laughter gets louder. “I love that boy. Yes, I’m his honorary grandmother. I’m glad you remembered me. I was at your mother’s house for Blaire’s bridal shower. Larissa brought me.”

He nods. “I hope you enjoyed your time with them.”

“I did. Very much. Your mother is a lovely woman. All of the women in your family, actually.” She glances at me and grins. “And those men—whoo we! But you obviously know that, having snagged one yourself.”

I laugh, but my face heats to a nuclear level. “Ah, no. That’s not … what this is.”

Wade’s stare from beside me doesn’t help.

“So, do you have any cinnamon sugar cake donuts left?” I ask, pleading with her silently to move the conversation along.

She nods. “Get your butts in a seat, and I’ll bring them over.”

Wade and I walk to a corner booth beneath a flamingo picture and sit. Neither one of us speaks. I don’t even look at him. If I would’ve known that he knew Judy, I wouldn’t have brought him here. Judy has no filter and is a major flirt at seventy-five years old. I could’ve predicted this type of situation unfolding.

“Small world,” Wade says just loud enough for me to hear.

I place my camera next to me and then inhale deeply before looking up at him. “That it is.”

He sits back in his seat. “Do you make friends everywhere you go?”

“Why?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I don’t know about friends, but, yeah, I usually walk out of a place and know someone’s name … or life history.” I laugh. “It’s a much nicer way to live than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

I lean forward. “Stuck in your head. Alone. Not living your best life.”

“What does that mean to you?” He quirks a brow. “What does living your best life mean to you?”

I shrug. “Happiness, I guess. Having people around me to share experiences with. Feeling fulfilled and that my life has a purpose.”

Judy sets two oversized donuts and two cups of coffee down but is pulled away to another customer before she has the chance to potentially embarrass me again—thank God.

“What does it mean to you?” I ask.

He picks up his coffee and holds it in his hands. “I’m not sure.”

My eyes go wide.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m surprised you gave me an honest answer.”

“Do you think I lie to you?”

I pinch a piece of donut off the one closest to me. “No, but you don’t really share a lot with me either.”

“I have nothing to share.”

“Okay,” I say, calling him out without saying it outright.

He exhales. “What would you like me to share?”

“Simple. What makes you happy?” I pop a piece of the donut in my mouth. “What does living your best life mean?” I grin. “Why do you shy away from intimacy in relationships?”

“Not that again,” he gruffs.

“I’m using it to prove a point. I doubt you ever share anything meaningful.” At least not with me.

“We talk about house designs. You’re my client. What’s meaningful to our relationship is me knowing where you like to sleep at night.”

My hand stills in the air with a piece of donut in it.

He sets his coffee down slowly, his gaze piercing mine.

“Do you really want to know that?” I ask.

The air between us is heavy. The tension is thick. Wade presses his lips together as his eyelids hood.

I’m afraid to press any further because I’m not sure if he’s going to tell me he does want to know via the innuendo that I don’t think he meant to imply or if he’s going to get up and walk out and take an Uber as he threatened earlier.