“No, don’t. Maybe it’s for the best, although my landlord is unlikely to agree when I can’t pay my rent.” I laugh, although I am deadly serious. I can probably survive for about six weeks on my small amount of savings.
He looks at me and appears to be about to speak several times but doesn’t, he just pulls me tightly against his chest.
It had originally been my plan to go home on Sunday but with very little persuasion from Mason I agree to spend the whole weekend at his home. I would have been happy to spend the remainder of the weekend locked away with him, but Mase had other ideas which saw us spending Sunday on the coast, which was lovely, if a little exhausting. By the time we got home on Sunday night I went straight to bed and slept through until Monday morning where I have woken up late and alone.
Slipping on the t-shirt Mason wore the previous day makes me smile as I inhale his scent deeply, although I don’t smile at his juvenile tendency to throw his clothes on the floor and leave them there. I pick up his other clothes and drop them into the washing hamper just a few feet away in the bathroom that is emptied by his housekeeper, cleaner, whatever Mona’s job title is, but regardless she picks up his washing, washes it, dries it, irons it and returns it to his wardrobe, she even makes almost daily trips to the dry cleaners.
I assume Mason is working, in his office rather than in the flat and as I no longer have a job, I slip on a pair of my boy shorts beneath his t-shirt, content to remain that way. When I reach the kitchen, Mona is already using that fucking diabolical coffee machine to make me a drink.
“Morning.” She smiles as I scowl at the machine chugging away under her expert hands.
“Hi. How do you make that bloody contraption look so easy?”
“It’s a simple three button operation—”
I shake my head. “And those last four words mean I am now leaving the room.” I laugh. “I’m going to brush my teeth and grab my phone.”
Laughing back, Mona, who is only in her early forties calls after me, “I will leave your coffee on the worktop and then I am off to the dry cleaners.”
Sitting at the kitchen counter on my laptop I am looking for a new job and having exhausted the few interior design posts locally I am now looking at admin roles and have a call centre operative post on my screen when the door opens behind me.
I assume it’s Mona back from her errands but quickly realise that it’s not when I hear Mason call to me, “Hey, baby.”
The next thing I know he is behind me and leaning down to kiss my shoulder that is exposed courtesy of his too big t-shirt dropping off my shoulder.
“There are no jobs out there, well there are, but only shitty ones.” Suddenly tired of job hunting I decide on some distraction. “Are you back here to cheer me up?”
“I think I might be.”
My tummy flips with anticipation.
Since my sordid revelations on Saturday we haven’t made love, never mind had our usual mind-blowing sex and I can’t deny the fact that I have missed the fireworks, but it also concerns me. That inadvertently, Mason’s opinion and feelings towards me have changed, although he has been tactile still; holding hands, kissing and gently touching me so maybe he is still reeling from my history but not distancing himself from me.
“I like you cheering me up and as I have only two items of clothing on, I could be cheery very quickly.” I still don’t turn around as his lips gently kiss my neck until a cough makes me jump, mainly because it is not a cough that belongs to either of us.
Spinning, I see the scowling face of Christian Peterson, my boss, ex-boss who should not be here, unless…
“Mason!” I accuse with a scowl of my own.
“Was always going to happen, baby,” he replies taking in my bare legs stretching out from beneath his t-shirt. “Go and get dressed and then we need to talk, all of us.” He glances towards Christian who looks seriously pissed off.
Awkwardly, overly aware of my state of semi-undress I cautiously get down from the stool and head back towards the bedroom, hoping Mason will follow me, to fill me in on what is happening. He doesn’t.
When I return to the lounge my laptop has been shut down. I glance from it to my boyfriend who is sitting on the sofa opposite Christian.
He shrugs. “You really don’t need that,” and I know he is referring to the insurance company call centre post I was seriously considering applying for.
I raise an eyebrow as I take the seat next to him.
“I’ve asked Christian to give you your job back,” Mason announces.
“What?” I ask incredulously.
“I’ve said no,” Christian interjects triumphantly.
“I wouldn’t have accepted anyway. I don’t want to work for you, plus your only vacancy is for a receptionist.” I sneer petulantly.
“I have no vacancies, I filled that post,” Christian retorts.
