“I will be an hour tops.” My throat constricts, and I struggle to pull air into my lungs. I give her a tight smile as I enter the elevator and hit the button for the garage.
Her face is a mask of hurt and confusion as the doors slide closed.
What the fuck have I done?
Nina
Thursday morning hits me hard. I wake with a headache, and I feel lower than I have in maybe ever. I was up most of the night going over in my head what I’ll do now I’ve lost my studio. Everything I came up with is impossible.
Mason didn’t come to bed last night, and he was already gone when I woke up. I don’t know what is going on with him, but he pulled away from me last night—left me when I needed him most.
Pulling myself from the bed, I shower and dress in some comfy clothes. I have nowhere to go, and the feeling is devastating.
Tears sting my eyes as I lift the sticky note from the worktop.
Call me if you need me angel
“I needed you last night, Mase,” I mutter to myself.
I wrap my arms around my body and glance around the penthouse, hating how cold the space feels without him here. Switching on every light possible, I find my phone and plug it in, moving to my spot in the window and letting loose.
As always, my dancing brings me the escape I desperately crave. But after two hours of solid dancing, I have to stop. My muscles are on fire from pushing my body to the brink of collapse.
My day went downhill from there.
I decided to make a cake. Maggie told me how easy it is and to do eight ounces of everything. I called her in a fit of tears when the sloppy mixture wouldn’t hold together. We soon figured out that I used eight eggs instead of eight ounces, but yeah, I cried over a cake.
I tried not to let it get me down, moving to the walk-in wardrobe where I rearranged my things, finally hanging up the few items I’d packed up, feeling like an imposter in somebody else’s home, but hoping it would make Mason a little happier.
He’s been stressed with work the last few days, or so he says. I know the Joey thing is still playing on his mind. And his dad. God, I’m such a bitch. I haven’t even thought about his father.
I pause at the thought, dropping the T-shirt I was holding to the floor.
It’s just a job.
I find myself laughing hysterically in the confinements of the wardrobe.It’s just a job.My laugh soon turns into tears.
I wish it were just a job.
The ping of the elevator has my eyes snapping open. I must have drifted off watching the television. My eyes feel heavy, and I know it will be obvious to Mason that I’ve been crying. I sit up and look at him over the top of the sofa. He looks tired. His eyes just as red as I expect mine are.
“Did you even come home last night?” I ask before he can greet me.
“I did. It was late and I had to be up early this morning.”
I nod my head waiting for him to come to me. He doesn’t. “Is everything okay, Mase?” My throat bobs, and I know I’m going to cry any second.
His brows pinch in, his fists clenched at his sides. “Yeah, sorry, are you okay? How was your day?”
“It was fine, I didn’t do much. Have you heard from your dad lately?” I ask, trying to not bother him with my own problems.
“Uh, yeah. I spoke to Scar yesterday.”
“Have you spoken to him, though?”
“Not since I took him to the hospital.”
I drop my head to the side. “Mase.”
