"I see we're playing with food now." Mason's voice came from the kitchen entrance, amused, his eyes going from the pancake on his shirt to me.
"That was meant for Chase," I said, already reaching for a napkin. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine." He waved it off and moved to the coffee machine, unbothered, starting to brew himself a cup.
The kitchen settled into silence after that. Just the sound of the coffee machine and the occasional stolen glance when one of us thought the other wasn't paying attention. My mind kept wandering back to last night, no matter how many times I tried to think about something else.
Mason was the one who finally broke it. "I'll be wrapping up everything here in Chicago soon," he said, not looking up from the machine. "Which means I'll be heading back to LA. Have you
