02

The next morning, I woke with sharp pain shooting through my feet.

The toes that had gone numb the night before were swollen now. The skin had turned pale, and even the slightest touch felt like needles. I was about to call a rideshare to take me to the hospital when a notification from Instagram popped up. Tessa had posted a new Story.

In the first clip, Mason stood in the snow, waiting in line with two cups of seasonal hot chocolate.

In the next clip, Tessa sat in the passenger seat. She took a sip from her thermos, then handed it to Mason.

He drank from it, the gesture so natural it looked like something they'd done many times before.

The caption read:

"He waited in line for an hour. The drink was nothing special. Good thing he didn't mind."

I watched that seven-second clip twice.

Mason was a bit of a germaphobe. In six years together, he'd never once drunk from a cup I'd used. On our first date, I accidentally took a sip of his coffee. He immediately bought himself another one.

I saved the Story. I didn't comment or confront either of them. Instead, I opened my inbox and signed the electronic letter of intent for the London project.

Naomi called a few minutes later.

"I see the signature," she said. "It's a twelve-month assignment on the Mercer Yard renovation project. Once it's finished, you can apply for the project lead position. Just remember, it's not an automatic promotion."

"Understood."

"HR will send you the departure details. Take care of your injury and your handover today."

She didn't ask why I'd suddenly changed my mind. She simply went over the terms, the timeline, and what I needed to do next.

Before hanging up, she added, "Now that you've signed, prepare according to the project requirements."

Fifteen minutes later, Tessa deleted the Story.

Mason called right after that.

The moment I answered, he asked, "Did you send the screenshot to Jamie?"

Jamie Brooks was my most trusted colleague at Northline. She was also one of the few people who knew about my long-distance relationship with Mason.

"No. She saw it herself."

"Well, she just called Tessa and confronted her." Mason kept his voice low. "This is between the three of us. You don't need to drag your coworkers into this."

I looked down at my swollen feet.

"Do you know where I ended up last night?"

A pause on the other end.

"You got a rideshare, didn't you?"

"And then?"

"Then you made it to the hotel. Nothing happened to you." His voice grew impatient. "I was late, but you're making it sound worse than it was. The storm came out of nowhere, and Tessa had never been there before. I couldn't just leave her."

I let out a short laugh.

"So you just left me?"

"I didn't leave you. I told you to go to the hotel."

"After I'd already spent ten hours waiting for you in the snow!"

Mason went silent for two seconds, then quickly steered the conversation back to the part he could handle.

"I've already booked a flight to Chicago tonight. We'll talk in person. And tell Jamie to stop calling Tessa."

"Tessa can get involved in our business, but Jamie can't?"

"They're different."

"How?"

He had no answer.

I didn't wait for one. I hung up, called a rideshare, and went to the urgent care center near the airport.

The doctor confirmed early-stage frostbite and soft tissue damage. No risk of necrosis for now, but I had to stay off my feet for a few days and watch the color of my skin.

The nurse put my discharge instructions and ointment into a clear bag. Then she asked if someone was coming to pick me up.

I said no.

She called a rideshare for me.

After leaving urgent care, I rebooked my flight to Chicago for that afternoon.

A little after eight that evening, Mason showed up at my apartment door.

He was carrying Italian takeout, his coat still cold from the airport. When he saw me leaning on a temporary cane, he froze for a moment.

"What happened to your feet?"

"Frostbite."

"What did the doctor say?"

I handed him the discharge instructions.

Mason skimmed them.

"The doctor said there was no immediate risk of necrosis, right?" He slid the papers under his laptop. "Let's eat before the food gets cold and we have to reheat it."

In that moment, I actually felt one ridiculous flicker of hope.

I thought he'd flown to Chicago because he'd finally realized how serious that night had been.

But all he wanted was to make sure I wasn't seriously hurt. Once he knew I wasn't, he acted like everything could go back to normal.

Halfway through dinner, Tessa called.

The corner of Mason's mouth lifted when he saw her name. He took his phone out to the balcony. Even through the glass, I could see him smiling.

When he came back, he immediately explained, "She was just asking if I'd arrived."

"Has she been visiting you a lot?"

Mason's fork stopped mid-motion.

"Not really."

"How many times?"

"Twice. Once for hiking, once for a music festival."

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Because you were always buried in your projects." He sighed. "I didn't think two weekends were something I needed to report to you. See? I tell you now, and it turns into an interrogation."

"You weren't afraid I'd overthink it."

I looked at him.

"You knew it would bother me. That's why you didn't tell me."

Mason set down his fork.

"Ellie, I didn't fly all the way here to keep fighting over every little detail."

"To you, it's just a detail."

He didn't respond.

Late that night, I lay in bed and heard Mason speaking quietly in the living room.

"Don't mention the other two weekends."

"She reads into everything right now."

The message-sent chime was barely audible.

Mason set his phone face-down on the table.

I stared at the signed letter of intent in my inbox. For the first time, I had no desire to ask what else he'd been hiding.