Page 29 of Sugar and Spice (Glitter and Sparkle #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sadie finds me in the hall on the way to my final interview.
“Harper,” she says, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened.”
I shrug. “It’s all right. At least you can stay.”
“Thank you for working it out with Tammy,” she whispers.
“It was Mason’s idea.”
Part of me thinks I should hate this girl. After all, if she hadn’t butted her way into Brandon’s heart, he and I would be together. I would never have fallen for Mason, and I wouldn’t be suffering from the greatest humiliation of my life.
But then there’s the fact that if Sadie hadn’t butted her way into Brandon’s heart, he and I would be together. I wouldn’t have fallen for Mason, and therefore, I wouldn’t have experienced the most beautiful twenty-four hours of my life.
It’s all in how you look at it.
And no matter what, I wouldn’t give up this time with Mason. Getting to know him has been a life-changing experience. One that I’m afraid has reached its end.
I know he said we could work, but this mess right here shows that there are too many obstacles between us.
Still, I don’t regret our time together. I’ll never regret our time together.
Sadie gives me a hug, and I awkwardly pat her back, trying my very best not to nudge her away.
I’ve grown to like her, but let’s not push it.
“Ready?” Dave asks as soon as I walk into our usual interview room.
I sit on a stool. “Yes.”
He frowns at the list of prompts in his hand. “Do you want to read them first, take a moment to get your thoughts in order before we film?”
Grateful, I accept the list…then I silently curse Tammy. She meant it when she said everything. She wants all the sad, pathetic details about Brandon; she wants every sweet moment with Mason.
I know what she’s doing. She wants the viewer’s hearts to go out to me, wants me to make it all seem like a magical Cinderella story, just as Riley pegged it.
With a sigh, I hand him back the paper. “All right.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Dave says in his adorable accent. “You’re going home anyway.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s for Sadie. Let’s get it over with.”
I answer every question, even the ones that make me want to be sick. I tell the world everything, and I don’t hold anything back. By the end, I’m wiping tears off my cheeks. Too bad I didn’t take a few pointers from Anne on how to cry prettily because I’m sure I’m a blotchy, red mess.
“Mason is everything every girl has ever hoped he was. He’s a gentleman, he’s sweet, he’s handsome, and he’s amazingly talented.” I suck in a shuddering breath. “I was so fortunate to get to know him. I will never regret the time we spent together, and I wish him the best.”
Startled, Dave looks around his camera. “You’re not together?”
I shrug and laugh in a humorless way, probably looking half-insane. “It’s just too painful to string it along. Let’s face it, life isn’t a fairy tale. Normal girls like me don’t end up with famous men like him.”
And I cannot handle this much time in the spotlight. It’s making my hermit approach to life seem quite appealing.
“Does Mason know you’re finished?” Dave asks, forgetting about his assigned questions.
I look at the floor. “Not yet.”
I find Mason waiting for me outside the room, and my heart breaks when I see him.
He takes in my tear-stained face and immediately wraps his arms around me. Of course, that only makes the tears start anew.
“It’s over now,” he murmurs, still holding me close.
I look up and study his face, trying to commit the small things to memory, the things that don’t show in pictures—like the way he smells like regular, everyday drugstore shampoo.
He has a few stray strands of silver at his temples that I’ve never noticed before. He’s going to be one of those men whose hair changes at a young age, but it won’t detract from his looks. If anything, it might enhance them.
Mason narrows his eyes as I run my finger along the strands. For a minute, I try to imagine that he’s a regular guy—someone I might have a future with. Someone who would get a regular job and be home for dinner every night by six. We’d take yearly vacations and have two-point-five children.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” he says quietly.
“I’m trying to figure out how to say goodbye.”
He scrunches his forehead and narrows his eyes. “Harper, don’t.”
“You know this won’t work. I’ve turned your career upside down with bad publicity. Your manager hates me.”
His scowl turns into a wry smile. “Any publicity is good publicity, and I’ll fire Clark if you’d like.”
I smile despite myself and press a kiss to his lips. “Take care of yourself, Mason.”
When I try to step out of his arms, he holds me tight. “I object.”
“You object?” I ask, incredulous.
“We’ve been together less than twenty-four hours. You can’t break up with me yet.”
I shake my head, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry. “Why can’t you make this easy?”
“Because easy means you leave and I never see you again.”
“Then let me go because you care for me. I can’t keep up this pace—I can’t live in a glass bowl, with everyone in the world watching my every move. I’m tired, Mason. I don’t want this life.”
His expression flickers with pain, and I know he wants to argue. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. “All right.”
We stay like this for several minutes, and then I pull out of his arms. Before he lets me go, he kisses me.
It’s a quick kiss, not sweet like our first or searing like our second. It’s final, a goodbye. A signature at the end of a contract.
We’re done.