I really like how he looks right now. It gets me excited. Not just in my chest but in my belly. And even lower than that.
I’m not sure how he senses me, but he does. He jerks and whirls around abruptly, sloshing the remaining water in his glass.
“Sorry,” I burst out, hoping he doesn’t realize I was leering at him. “I heard a noise and came to see what it was.”
“Didn’t mean to wake you up.” He swallows down the last of his water and puts the glass in the sink. “I’ll try to be more quiet.”
“It’s okay. I’m still sleeping lightly since it feels new and different here. You hardly made any noise at all.”
Since I’m up and my mouth is dry, I walk over to grab a glass for myself and fill it halfway with water.
Mason watches me as I drink. I notice his eyes running up and down my body.
I’m wearing one of the nightgowns that Annabelle gave me. It’s simple with wide straps and a soft, slinky material.
It looks fine on me, but I’d never consider anything about my body worth paying extra attention to.
But Mason is definitely paying attention.
After a minute, he makes a weird, grunting sound. He turns away from me, mumbling, “I better get back to bed. Sorry to wake you.”
“It wasn’t any problem at—” I don’t finish my sentence because he’s already striding out of the room.
6
On Monday morningtwo weeks later, I wake up happy.
I’ve been happy at the beginning of every day since I moved in with Mason.
I honestly never knew it was possible again. To open my eyes to a new morning excited about what might happen rather than dreading it.
It’s not like life has miraculously become easy or simple. I have to work hard, and no one in the villages of the Central Cities is free to make their own choices. We have to do and be and live the way we’re told. Always, always earn our keep. But still…
Living here is so much better than living with Lorraine and Aria.
Mason is already up and doing chores, so I dress quickly in a baggy sweater and a pair of trousers that usedto be his mother’s. It’s not easy to stay clean while doing morning chores with Mason, so I don’t want to put on a dress until later when we head for the market.
As soon as I step outside, Bill is waiting there, sitting up straight and eager with his ball in his mouth.
“Hi, Bill,” I say with a smile, leaning over to give him some pets. Yesterday afternoon, Mason and I managed to bathe him, an effort he didn’t appreciate. But his fur is soft and much cleaner now, and he doesn’t hold a grudge. “Did you sleep okay in the barn? Are you happy about the new day too?”
He’s clearly as awed and gratified by his new situation as I am mine, and it touches my heart.
He pants around the ball in his mouth and gestures with his head several times until I hold my hand out for him to drop the slobbery ball into. I toss it as far as I can, and he bounds after it with a joyful yip.
I head toward the barn and find Mason milking a cow. “Good morning,” I tell him, grabbing my stool and pail so I can milk Genevieve, the most docile of the cows. “Am I late?”
“No, I woke up early. I would’ve been farther along, but Bill demanded some ball time before he let me escape.”
I giggle. “He let me go at one throw. I guess that’s why. Did you sleep okay? Why did you wake up early?”
“Dunno. Just couldn’t sleep any longer.”
Something about his tone and avoidance of my eyesmakes me wonder if he’s telling me the truth, but I’m in no position to demand he share his thoughts with me. He’s not a bad companion. He’s not very talkative or open, but he’s generally polite. And he’s usually considerate, thinking about my needs as well as his own.
As husbands go, he’s a good one, and I’m not about to mess things up between us by becoming pushy or demanding about how many of his thoughts he shares with me.
I focus on Genevieve and Vera after her. Then I go to feed the chickens and collect the morning’s eggs.
