Page 39 of Between Regrets and Promises (Between Us Trilogy #2)

MASON

Being this close to Sophie is dangerous.

I know it, but now that she’s here, in my house, drinking my coffee and sitting on my couch, I don’t want her to leave. There’s been a huge shift in our friendship over the past year when she first started dating Weston, and this is another one—one I’m growing damn fond of.

Although we don’t do anything when we hang out, I look forward to it every day when I wake up. Given the shitstorm that is now my life, Sophie is safe, and that bastard will never hurt her again.

The fact that I’m not working pisses me off, but I know the reasons behind it, so although I worked my ass off to get where I am, I can’t fight it.

That promotion to be a forensic investigator, even though it’s a rookie position, is mine, and I’m not going to let it slip between my fingers after being at the grunt level for years.

If it wasn’t for Sophie being here with me, I’d probably be drinking way too many beers and self-destructing as I replay the memory of that gun being pointed at me and my friends.

But truthfully, I don’t regret a damn thing.

I’d follow him out of that reception hall again and again if it meant making sure he’d leave Sophie alone for good.

The fact he acted like he was cracked out on coke and clearly drunk wasn’t something I anticipated.

He should’ve gone down the first time I decked him, and we would’ve all walked away.

Blinking, I clear that night out of my head. It’s been on repeat since the moment it happened although I’ve been trying to push out the thoughts, memories, and horrific aftermath.

Waking up to Sophie in my house for the past several days has shifted my mood when the demons threatened to pull me under. This nightmare feels like a repeat of what I went through years ago, and although the circumstances are different, the anxiety is the same.

Spending time with Sophie keeps me preoccupied, and I’ll forever be grateful for her company. But now that she’s here and staying, she deserves more than a shitty couch to sleep on.

“Mason, it’s too much,” Sophie repeats for the third time.

I saw the way her eyes lit up at the upholstered bedframe with built-in storage underneath. She rushed over to touch the dark gray pattern. Then her eyes bugged out as soon as she found the price tag.

“Let’s find you a mattress set now. What size do you want? Queen?” I walk toward them when Sophie’s hand brushes mine.

“Wait.” She attempts to pull me back, but instead, I thread my fingers through hers and pull her with me. “Mason…a full would be fine.”

I drink her in, noticing the sparkle she had pre-Weston is coming back. Her long brown hair is pulled up into a half ponytail with waves flowing down her back. Though she wears a touch of makeup to cover her bruised eye, she doesn’t need it either way. Sophie always looks stunning.

“A queen for a queen.” I wink, but my attempt to reassure her that she deserves this bed doesn’t work. She groans, knowing damn well she won’t win this argument.

After I’ve tracked down the salesman, ordered the frame and mattresses, and paid an assload for same-day delivery, I drive us to the next store.

“Really?” she asks, laughing. “You want to shop here?”

I park my truck and kill the engine. “Sure, why not? Is it for a secret society only or something?”

“Okay. It’s your funeral.” She shrugs.

And I drove myself right to it.

Once we’re inside, Sophie’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. This place is insane.

“Well?” she asks, looking up with a knowing smirk.

“I’m regretting every decision I made that’s brought me here.” I deadpan, glancing at the aisles that never seem to end.

“Liar,” she says. “You guys could use some new shit in your house anyway.”

“Why do I have a feeling we’re about to go on a fat ass shopping spree?” We walk farther into the store, then grab two carts.

Sophie giggles, and I follow her lead.

We head to the bedding first, and the options are overwhelming, to say the least. Sophie looks through them all, taking her time, but her eyes widen when she checks the prices. “Soph, stop stalling.”

“I’m not,” she says without looking at me.

“What about this one?” I ask, pointing at a solid gray comforter set. “Matches the headboard of the bed.”

She squints at it, pursing her lips left and right. “It has no personality.”

“Okay then.” I chuckle. “What kind of personality does your bed need?”

Sophie glances over her shoulder and glares.

“I meant my personality. Your bedroom should reflect you and your happy place. When things in your life are shit, you should find solace in your room, surrounded by the belongings that bring you peace. That’s what I want my bedroom to be. Somewhere I feel safe and comfortable.”

Safe and comfortable. That’s exactly what I want for her. With me .

“So not the gray?” I tease, needing to lighten the mood before I choke on the tension between us.

She steps closer and smacks my arm. “You’re such a guy.”

After searching for another ten minutes, Sophie squeals when she finds a pattern with Eiffel Towers surrounded by Paris written in pink script. The cream-colored background is pretty, but I don’t tell her that.

“Is that the one?” I ask, eager to move to the next section of the store so we can get the hell out of here.

“Yes! I love Paris! Well, the idea of it. I’ve never been. But it’s my dream destination vacation.”

I grab the handle of the bag and haul it into my cart. “Perfect.”

Sophie bites down on her lower lip, then meets my gaze. I know she hates that she needs help and didn’t ask, but I’m offering anyway. “What’s next?” I question, hoping to snap her out of her overactive thoughts.

“I need some pillows,” she says.

“Lead the way.”

An hour later and after a lot of convincing, Sophie has new pillows, a lamp with an Eiffel Tower as the base, and a few décor items. Then she forced me over to the kitchen area.

As long as we weren’t shopping for her specifically, she was all about it.

Now, I’m the proud owner of a twelve-piece set of dinner plates with four ceramic mugs to match, a paper towel holder that apparently suits the counters better, and some kind of silverware organizer contraption.

After all that, Sophie dragged me to the bathroom section and picked out a set of oversized super soft bath towels.

When I spotted an Eiffel Tower shower curtain, I threw it into the cart too, which made her grin ear to ear.

Just as we push our two carts toward the checkout, I see my aunt out of the corner of my eye rushing toward me. I inhale a sharp breath, knowing I’m about to get hounded.

“Mason!” she squeals, then pulls me in a hug. She’s my dad’s sister, which should be awkward, considering how my relationship with my father, but she gives him enough shit for me to know she doesn’t always like him either. “It’s been a while, kiddo. How’ve you been? You doing okay?”

She gives me a look that tells me she knows what’s been going on behind the scenes. She might not always get along with her brother, but she works in politics too, and they all talk.

“I’m fine.” I give her a reassuring smile so she doesn’t say what’s really on her mind. “This is my aunt Sylvia.”

My aunt grins.

“This is Sophie, my?—”

“Roommate,” Sophie quickly clarifies.

She’s much more than that. More than my friend even. But how the hell do you introduce someone as your one-time bathroom quickie fling that you’ve friend-zoned, killed her boyfriend, and who now lives with you?

Roommate it is.

“It’s so lovely to meet you.” Aunt Sylvia wraps her up in a tight hug. Yep, she definitely knows Sophie is much more than a roommate.

“Oh, you too.”

“Since Mason hasn’t visited his favorite aunt in a long time, I’d love to invite you both for dinner some night.”

Sophie glances over at me, and I quickly intervene.

“She’s just getting settled into the house and has a busy work schedule, so maybe in a couple of months,” I offer so she doesn’t push.

“Sure, that’d be great.” Aunt Sylvia winks at me, and I muffle a groan.

“You two kids have fun shopping.” Then she turns her attention toward Sophie.

“If he starts acting anything less than a gentleman, remind him that I have an entire baby album of him with lots of bath time pictures, and I’ll gladly show them off. ”

Kill. Me. Now.

Sophie giggles, her cheeks turning bright red. “He’s been very respectful, don’t worry. This whole trip was his idea. In fact, he insisted ,” she reassures her.

Aunt Sylvia smiles proudly at me. “That’s my boy. But I might show her anyway because you were so darn cute,” she says in a high-pitched voice, patting my cheek.

“I would definitely love to see those pictures,” Sophie adds.

“Sure, fine,” I say as if it wouldn’t bother me. “I was a cute kid, though. You might not be able to resist me once you see them.” I shoot Sophie a wink.

“Well, you call me when you kids are available for dinner, and we’ll make it happen. I better go find your uncle Frank before he wanders off.” She waves and rushes to the other side of the store as fast as she came barreling over.

“Baby bath pictures, huh?” Sophie teases as we push our carts to the front to check out.

“Shut up,” I mutter, earning a playful laugh in return.

Once I’ve paid and we’ve loaded up the truck, I drive to IKEA. “What’re we doing here?” Sophie asks, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Well, you need a dresser and nightstand, right?”

She shrugs.

“You do. Let’s go.”

“I don’t need both,” she insists as we walk inside. “I already feel like you’ve done too much.”

I frown.

“At least let me buy something so I feel like less of a freeloader!” She groans, pushing the cart we grabbed on the way in.

“Fine. You can buy the burritos.”

“Huh?” She furrows her brows.

“For lunch. You like burritos, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Who doesn’t?”

“Good. Then it’s settled. You choose what you want, and you can buy us lunch.”