The majority of the candles are burnt out with wax pooling on the hardwood floors.
“Hours,” he says dramatically.
I chuckle, licking the salt from my lips. “It’s beautiful. No one has ever treated me like this. It could be the best date I’ve ever been on, you know. Definitely the best sex for a first date.”
“Just the first date, huh, like you’ve had better?” he mutters, feigning hurt but still smiling. “How bad did you feel? Coming downstairs and seeing all my hard work?”
I bring a piece of cheese to his mouth, letting my finger linger as his tongue comes out to swipe it. “I really did feel bad. I just…”
“I know, you don’t want me to buy you things,” he finishes for me.
“Mase. My mum, she wasn’t the best role model growing up. The thought of becoming her—”
“You’re nothing like your mother, Nina!”
“Uh, no. I’m not,” I say, confused by his tone and that he thinks he knows me well enough to form an opinion. “But I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t rely on anyone else, and I won’t be bought with shiny things. I know you have money, and I appreciate the gesture. It’s all so thoughtful. I just, I feel uncomfortable with you spending money on me. It’s not why I’m here.”
“When was the last time you saw your mother?” he asks, completely changing the subject. I just hope he is listening.
“Two years ago. She overdosed. Ended up in hospital for a week.”
He shakes his head at my confession, my honesty shocking me. “You shouldn’t have to deal with it alone. What you’ve been through...” he says, fiddling with my bangle.
What I’ve been through?“How do you know I was alone?”
“Were you?”
Asshole. My body locks up as I resist the urge to bolt. “Mase, what’s my mother’s name?” I ask, looking down at him.
“What?”
I wait, not saying a word.
He knows I know.
“Sarah Leigh Anderson,” he eventually says, his eyes wild as he gauges my reaction.
I drop my head to his chest, looking away from him. His muscles relax in what I presume is relief as his arms come around me.
He thinks he knows. The arrests, hospital admissions, the tip-offs from neighbours to social services—it’s only the half of it.
“Say something,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, Mason?”
“Everything you have been through. Everything you continue to go through.”
I roll my eyes, already over this pity party. “My childhood wasn’t all bad, you’ve just invaded the bad bits—and that’s exactly what you’ve done so don’t try to deny it. I lived with Lucy’s parents, Maggie, you met her, and John. They took me in at eight. I was between my mums and theirs until uni after that. They made sure I was sheltered from it, somewhat.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his lips in a tight line. “If she mistreated you so badly, then why do you pay her? Why not cut her off?”
I recoil at his words. “What? Jesus, Mason. How deep did you go?” I yell.
“I wasn’t going to look, but I had no way of getting hold of you. Nina, you’ve transferred your mother nearly fourteen thousand pounds in the last four years!”
He goes to grab me, but I’m already up, the blanket wrapped around me as he tries to do what they all do. Lucy, Maggie, John they think they know best.
