“Sorry,” she apologises turning her attention back to her former boyfriend. “What? No that was Mason, he’s my,” she begins and then hesitates because after five days we have yet to discuss titles, but I need her to give me one that isn’t friend or fuck buddy. “My boyfriend,” she says with an almost apologetic shrug for me, but I am not pissed off that she has named and labelled me, quite the opposite. I am thrilled and smile at her to confirm that I am indeed her boyfriend and couldn’t be happier about it.
And what does that say about you? is my inner voice’s contribution but I ignore it having almost forgotten it was still there.
“Thursday then,” I realise she’s saying.
“Olivia.” There’s a hint of a warning in my voice that she is on shaky ground making plans to meet her ex-boyfriend when I am out of the country but she appears to ignore me and my objection.
“Okay, then, bye Brad.” She hangs up.
“No,” is all I say, getting up and heading to the bedroom where I grab my toiletries and shut myself in the bathroom.
In the shower is where I try and get my head around the unknown ex-boyfriend and Olivia’s intention to meet up with him. I am more agitated by the time I leave the bathroom than before I entered it. Returning to the bedroom I find Olivia sitting in the middle of the bed looking confused and concerned.
“I’m going to brush my teeth,” she says, and I silently nod because right now I don’t trust myself not to say something that will hurt her.
With a sigh, she leaves me as I dry myself off and get into bed realising it is barely ten o’clock on a Sunday night. Olivia returns and offers me a small smile which I don’t return.
“If we’re going to bed I’ll turn the lights off and lock the door.”
I feel guilty. “I’ll lock the door; you do the lights.” I leap from the bed naked, drawing her attention and her gaze as I leave her in my wake.
In a matter of minutes, we are returning to the bedroom and climbing into bed where Olivia puts the lamps on and plugs her phone in. I can see and sense that she is nervously waiting for me to speak but I don’t know what to say beyond the fact that I do not want her to meet Brad without me, if at all.
You don’t want her to realise that Brad is the one she wants, my inner voice taunts me, forcing my hand.
“I don’t want you to meet him, Olivia.” I fight every instinct I have to keep my voice as flat as I can. “He is your ex-boyfriend and you have deliberately arranged a meeting with him when you know I’ll be out of the country. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I imagine it feels similar to knowing that you work alongside your best friend and right hand everyday who happens to be your ex-wife.”
Her reply knocks the wind out of my sails. I had no idea that she felt that way, that she felt any way about Arianna still being in my life, albeit in an entirely platonic way. Especially not as she’d seemed so calm when I told her about our relationship, unless this is her way of trying to make me soften to her and Brad.
“I still don’t want you to meet him,” I reaffirm and earn myself a silent glare from her.
“Why?” she suddenly asks. “How would you feel if I said I didn’t want you to work with Arianna anymore?”
“He is your ex-boyfriend and he calls out of the blue for you to meet up for a reason he won’t divulge, that’s why and Arianna and I are different.”
“Different because it’s you?” she asks testily, meaning we could be about to embark on a real row.
“No, not like you mean, but because we have worked together for years, before we married, during our marriage and since. Plus, she is married to someone else.” I try not to sound angry with her, although I kind of am.
“Mason, this is ridiculous. You can’t keep telling me what I can and can’t do. Jeez, if we were weeks or months into this, I still wouldn’t want you to dictate every aspect of my life. I’ve been there, done that.” Her face suggests she immediately regrets it as it crumples a little before she continues, “So less than a week in, it’s not happening.” She sighs sadly.
“Baby,” I say gently, knowing I am being unreasonable but less than a week in she is so much more than I know she should be.
“No! You don’t trust me not to what, reconcile with Brad, or maybe just shag him and with you away I could do that, couldn’t I?”
“I didn’t say that.” I object, knowing that whilst I’m concerned there may be unfinished business between Brad and Olivia, I do trust her, and I know I misjudged her that first night. “I think you’re forgetting that you’re the one who doesn’t trust me,” I counter defensively.
“Fuck!” she cries, pounding her hands into the bed. “What do you want from me Mason, really? I explained that there are reasons for my lack of trust but I do trust you in some aspects of my life, just not every aspect. I am seriously fucked up in the head. I have issues but you can’t control me like this, in every area of my life. I have bent more with you in the days we’ve been together than I did in almost two years with Brad, God!” she huffs.
“I can’t explain this. I don’t even understand it myself,” I concede. “I just know that we have something special here and I do trust you, but I would feel happier if I’d met Brad or knew why he wanted to meet you.” I feel a little pathetic at my own acknowledgement.
“Right then, let me tell you about me, a little,” she says and sits so that she is straddling my lap in the tiny vest and sleep shorts she put on in the bathroom leaving just the bed covers between us.
I reach up and push her loose hair behind her ears before resting my hands on her hips.
“I have had two serious boyfriends in my life, before you,” she begins.
