But when my stepfather is there… I don’t know what happens to me. I just can’t say no to him. I turn into my little girl self. And she is not a fighter. She is afraid. She wants to hide under her princess bed. She wants to run away, and tried to, many times, but she gets caught. She always gets caught and brought back. And it’s always a villain who catches me, never a prince.
Until now.
Mason Macintyre is a prince. And I want to ride off into the sunsets of Sweden with him today.
Before my stepfather figures out I’m gone. Before I’m captured by another villain and my prince gets away.
I start checking flights on Mason’s phone while he tries to come up with something for me to wear.
“Sweats?” he asks. “You can’t wear my jeans. They’re too baggy. I tell you what, if you wear sweats, I’ll wear sweats too. We’ll pretend we’re working out.”
For a second I picture myself walking through the park in sweats and have an instant revulsion at the thought. But then I picture both of us walking through the park looking like fitness partners. Holding hands like a cool, beautiful athletic couple.
And I love it. So I say, “Sure. I’ll wear the sweats.”
They are too big as well. But Mason just rolls the waist over a couple times and I tie a knot in his over-sized t-shirt. We look at ourselves in the mirror when we’re dressed.
I approve.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. “I’m anxious to get these plans made.”
“We can’t make a flight today,” he says, grabbing his keys and his phone as I tug him out into the hallway. “But there’s one on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?” After checking for flights I have since learned that today is Sunday. I kinda lost track of time out at the estate. “No, there’s one tonight.”
“We can’t just book an international trip for tonight, Lyssa. We won’t even make it to the airport in time to check in. Tuesday is fine.”
No. Tuesday isn’t. Tuesday is way too close to Wednesday when my stepfather will come back out to the estate and figure out none of his big plans panned out.
He will realize I’ve skipped out. And he’ll know Mason helped me. “We could charter a jet,” I say as we get into the elevator.
He looks at me like I’m insane.
“I have credit cards.”
“I have money,” he says. “Even without your stepfather’s payment. But it’s excessive. We can wait—”
“We can’t wait,” I say, a little bit excited and loud.
He shoots me another weird look. Not like I’m insane, but like there’s something wrong with me.
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s just… I don’t want to confront my stepfather. I can’t see him, Mason. He will talk me out of this.”
“Just be strong,” he says, squeezing my hand.
But I shake my head. “No, you don’t understand how persuasive he can be. He’ll just come between us and take control and then I really will be stuck marrying stupid Dickerson.”
“No, you won’t,” he says. “I’ll be there with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight for one minute. So if he finds you, he finds me too.”
I’m not convinced but Mason turns and takes both my hands, gives them a good, hard squeeze and says, “I promise. I won’t let him take control of you again. I’m in charge now.”
I let out a long breath.
“Promise,” he repeats.
“OK,” I say. “Tuesday. But no later than Tuesday. Even if the flight is full.”
“If the flight is full, Wild Thing, I will get you your private jet.”
I repeat his words over and over again as we walk through the park holding hands.
I’ll be there with you.
I’m in charge now.
And I believe him. I really do. I put my stepfather’s reaction three days from now out of my mind and enjoy the walk through the park.
We are a couple.
“Well, this is me,” I say as we leave the park and cross the street. Both of us look up at my building. It’s much taller than Mason’s and there is only one penthouse and it’s mine.
“Pretty nice,” he says.
“It is nice,“ I say. “And it’s the only thing I have in my own name. Aside from that disgusting house in the country. This was the only thing he couldn’t steal from me because it was secured in a separate trust that came from some secret account my mother had with my real father.”
“Your real father,” Mason says. Like he’s never considered that there was another man in my life once upon a time. “What happened to him?”
“It’s a weird, sad story,” I say.
Mason looks at me like he has never been more interested in what I have to say, ever. “Tell me,” he says, squeezing my hand.
“I don’t know if I can. It’s… not normal.”