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not a choice.  Either way, I am losing something I love.”  She took a step towards him, hoping to end this fight she didn’t want.  “Can we at least go celebrate tonight and deal with the details later?” 
    “I don’t feel like celebrating you leaving me.”  Mason turned his back to her and walked away, returning the weights to the shelves. 
    “Let’s just give it a few days,” she said hopefully.  “Nothing needs to be decided now.”
    Ignoring her offer, Mason grabbed his towel from the floor, and Emory began to cry.  The best news of her life was leading to the loss of the man she loved.  Mason walked towards her and kissed the tip of her nose and forehead.  For a moment, Emory felt peace, as if he finally understood.  But then he turned his back again and walked towards the exit.
    “Mason, Mason,” she cried out, “please don’t do this!  I love you!  Please, please. . . .” 
    When he reached the door, he turned back to her.  “Bye, Em.”  And he was gone.
    Emory sunk to the floor, tears streaming down her face, clutching her stomach, feeling she could throw up.  She curled into a ball on the floor in the weight room for hours, late into the night, hoping Mason would come back to her, but he never did.  Her life, her love, was gone.  She pulled out her phone.  “Wesley, I need you to come to the weight room right now.”

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    She’d hardly slept when the alarm clock blared.  Emory rolled her head under her pillow, as if that would stop the noise.  She threw the pillow off her and smacked the alarm clock to shut it off.  It was already morning; the night had passed quickly.  She shuffled into her bathroom and looked at her puffy eyes.   I can’t look like shit again .   She only had an hour to get ready for her photo shoot in Freedom Park and needed every minute of it -- not only to perk up for her two little clients but also to look her best for her date later that morning.   No, not a date!  An appointment!  A meeting!  Just two old college friends catching up.
    After a bowl of cereal, she quickly applied a dash of blush, mascara, and lip gloss, then threw on her skinny jeans, brown knee-high riding boots, and a camel colored cowl-neck sweater.  She pulled her hair into a high pony tail and raced out of her room with her camera bag.
    Wesley, holding his coffee mug, greeted her with a cat call.  “What’s the occasion?”  Emory never pulled herself together for photo shoots.  Her infant and child clients didn’t care what she looked like, and neither did she, spending half the time on the ground taking pictures, and the other half wiping snotty noses.  A t-shirt, cargo pants, and tennis shoes were her typical uniform, so Wesley knew Emory was up to something.   Shouldn’t she still be upset, in flannels, looking like hell over Eric?
    “I’m meeting Mason after my shoot.” 
    “Mason called?”  Wesley sipped his coffee.  “You left out that little fact last night.”  
    “He called after you left to teach.  Wants me to show him around town.”
    “I bet he does,” Wesley teased, raising his eyebrows.
    “And I thought I’d just show him what he missed out on, too.”  She shook her booty at him.
    This was the girl Wesley loved -- sweet and spicy, rolled into a pretty little package.  “Go get you some!”  He slapped her booty, as she waltzed out the door.
     
    * * *
     
    Mason ordered a cab with the hotel valet and was off to Freedom Park.  He’d slept well.  It was the first time in a long time his arm didn’t hurt in the morning.  He had a slight hangover from Clive, but it was well worth it, proud of himself for making the call and both thrilled and relieved she agreed to meet him.  But he still had butterflies in his stomach, too -- Emory always gave him butterflies -- like he did before a division game on Sundays .   Is this adrenaline or nerves ? He didn’t know what to expect. 
    He wondered whether she still had