Mason's Winter

My phone starts ringing. I pull it out and wonder if it’s the Grables, but it’s my mom. “My mom,” I muttered, letting it go to voicemail.

“You should have answered it. Maybe it’s important.”

“No, she wants me to give her grandbabies already. So right now, she’s getting in the way of that.”

“Well we can’t have sex right on the table,” she says just as the waiter returns to the table with our check. He smiles awkwardly, and Winter looks like she wants to slink under the table.

“No, I suppose it’s not sanitary, but I would love to have dessert when we get home.” I look at the guy and give him a smirk. “The food was great,” I add dropping a fifty and stepping out of the booth. “Come on, babe.” She reaches out for me and stands. Helping her with her coat, I lean in and kiss her neck. “I bet you taste a thousand times better.” A light gasp escapes her lips then she shivers. I’m going to make her body do a lot more in a little bit.

“Let’s get your car, and then I’ll follow you back to the Grable estate.”

“Okay,” she says.

We slowly stroll on to her car or at least where her vehicle should be, but I don’t see it. “Oh no. Where is it? This is where I parked it.”

“Are you sure?” I question while trying to remember where we were but damn, my eyes had been on her only.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Yes, because I remember this Arizona plate in front of where I was.”

“Okay.” I start looking around, and that’s when I see near the car parked there now. I had a feeling that this was intentional. She takes out her phone just as it dings with a notification.

“Haha. Steal my man, and now you’re stranded bitch,” she reads out the message.

“There’s a voicemail, too.”

“Check it because we’re going to have to get your things and I want to be prepared. I’ll have the law with me if necessary.”

She puts it on speaker, letting me hear it. “Winter, how could you do this to our family?” I hear Mr. Grable’s voice, and I want to pound his face in. “Lying and getting him to believe it. You are no longer allowed to live here. Your things are being packed by the staff and will be waiting outside the house. I don’t want to see you ever again.” Tears stream down her face as the message ends. I wrap her up in my arms but don’t say a thing. She doesn’t need to be told to not cry if that’s what she’s feeling.

“I’m here for you,” I whisper over her head.

“Thank you, Mason.”

“Well, give me a minute, and I’ll call in a favor. Someone else can pick up your belongings and deliver them to the house.” I pull back and take her hand. She looks down at where they meet. “We look good together.”

“Are you for real?” I pinch myself.

“Yes, I’m real. This is real. So how about I make the call.” I smell something in the air that reminds me of the holidays. We have less than two weeks until Christmas, so that means that it’s the mart I smell. “I know we just ate, but the holiday sweets are hitting my nose. Are you warm enough to want to hit up the Christkindlmarket?”

“I would love that. I’ve never been.”

“Really? My mother loves it. I’ll just make the call, and we can go have fun before I take you home,” I say, bending down and stealing a kiss, wiping away a stray tear. “No more crying. Let’s celebrate the holiday season.”

I call in the old moving company I owned before selling it to a friend. “Hey, James, I need a solid. Can you head over to the Grable estate and pick up my woman’s things.”

“Wow, you claimed her did you now. Good job, man. I’ll have people on the way,” he laughs. “I want to meet her soon.”

“Yeah, well you’re coming over for Christmas. See you then, my friend.”

“See ya later. My guys will be there in half an hour.”

“Now that that is taken care of, shall we go?”

“I’m ready,” she says, tucking her hand into the crook of my arm.

Chapter 8

Winter

The lights of the Christkindlmarket make me smile. It’s super crowded, but Mason doesn’t let go of my hand at all. In fact, he tightens his grip on me. Every few steps he steals a kiss on my cheek or lips. This is wonderful. How can it be this amazing?

“Did you want to try some of the sweets?”

“I’m not sure what I want, but everything smells delicious.”

“Fine, let’s walk around and see what the world has in store.” Many of the companies in the wooden stalls aren’t American. It’s a taste of Christmas from different countries. The items all seem to be handmade. We stop at an Austrian vendor, and I see several different versions of the Christmas pickle. It’s a German tradition to find a pickle in the tree, but that’s all I know. As we go around, I don’t feel the cold with him at my side.