Page 41 of Making It Burn

My father bought it five years ago, right after opening his private investment firm.“An investment,” he’d called it.“Something befitting my position.”

It had never made sense to me.My father wasn’t flashy.He was methodical, practical, and careful.The house felt like something he thought he should want rather than something he actually had wanted.

I grabbed the bottle of wine I’d brought—an expensive Bordeaux because my father appreciated expensive things—and headed up the front walk.

The door opened before I could knock.

“Mason!”My father stood in the doorway, and I actually did a double-take.

He looked...different.Still the same tall frame and graying hair, still wearing slacks and a button-down shirt even on a Sunday evening.But there was something in his expression, a lightness I hadn’t seen in years.Maybe ever.

“Dad.You look good.”

“I feel good.”He pulled me into a hug—a real one, not the usual brief shoulder pat—and I stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do with my hands.“Come in, come in.I have someone I want you to meet.”

Someone he wanted me to meet?

I followed him inside, my confusion growing.The house looked different too—warmer somehow.There were fresh flowers on the console table in the entryway, and I could smell something cooking, something that involved garlic, herbs, and actual effort.

My father didn’t cook.He ordered takeout or ate at the club.

“Mason, I’d like you to meet Caroline.”He led me into the living room, and a woman stood up from the couch, smiling.

She was probably in her late fifties, with auburn hair cut in a stylish bob and an energy that immediately filled the room.She wore jeans—actual jeans—and a soft blue sweater.Caroline crossed the space between us with her hand extended.

“Mason!I’ve heard so much about you.Your father talks about you constantly.”

I shook her hand, completely off-balance.“It’s nice to meet you, Caroline.I...Dad didn’t mention he was seeing anyone.”

“That’s because your father is terrible at sharing personal information,” Caroline said with a laugh, swatting my father’s arm affectionately.“I’ve been telling him for weeks he needed to tell you, but he wanted to wait for the right moment.”

“The right moment?”I looked between them, my brain struggling to catch up.

My father actually looked sheepish.“Mason, Caroline and I are engaged.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.“Engaged?As in...getting married?”

“That’s typically what engaged means, yes.”But my father was smiling—actually smiling—and Caroline was beaming.I realized I was still standing there with my mouth open like an idiot.

“Congratulations,” I managed.“That’s...wow.That’s wonderful.”

And the strange thing was, I meant it.Mostly.Underneath the shock and confusion, was something that might have been happiness for him.

“I know this is sudden,” my father said.“But when you know, you know.”

“We met at a fundraiser six months ago,” Caroline added, linking her arm through my father’s.“And I took one look at this handsome, serious man and thought, ‘He needs someone to make him laugh.’So I made it my mission.”

“It worked,” my father said, looking at her with an expression I’d never seen on his face before—soft, open, completely unguarded.

My chest felt tight.“Six months?”

“I know, I know.It seems fast.”Caroline waved a hand.“My daughter said the same thing.But Mason, life is too short to overthink happiness.Your father and I, we just...fit.”

“Caroline makes me want to be less careful,” my father breathed.“Does that make sense?”

I thought about Beau.About the way kissing him had felt like jumping off a cliff.About how every logical part of my brain had screamed that it was a bad idea, but my body had known—had known—that it was exactly right.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough.“It makes sense.”