Chapter 12: April—Needy men and STIs
Sunday night was exhausting. Shane seemed particularly irritable, and April escaped to the bath with a glass of wine.Ugh, that man was infuriating. Who did he think he was?His money was chicken feed compared with Mason’s. Mason was so grounded: a millionaire and still working as a sales rep to make his own way rather than relying on family money. Shane was a hard worker, and they were incredibly well off, but Mason’s $10 million trust was way more than she could have imagined. Plus, he had access to his family money in the meantime. She wondered if he’d told his mom about her yet. Probably not. Too much of a risk. She hated living on the ranch with Shane and his parents. Their five-bedroom home on his parent’s ranch was beautiful but it was only half a mile from Elise and Robert, who she knew never liked her. Sure, they were nice to her face, but she wasn’t stupid. So, she didn’t like living in a dirt pit infused with the pungent stench of cows. Who could blame her?
While Shane didn’t limit her spending (within reason), she always felt his disapproval. She had a generous allowance and when she asked for more, he would sigh and frown, but rarely said no. She liked nice things. To him, near enough was good enough and that just wasn’t what life was about. If you could have nice things, why not go for them?
Luckily, she and Shane led separate lives. She knew it was a matter of time before he initiated divorce. They had nothing left. There was no intimacy, no shared interests, and no real love. She’d never really loved him of course, but he was a born provider and protector. He had a good body and was kind to her (well, at the start anyway). Now she was lucky to even warrant a grunt from him. She had been willing to wait him out. If he initiated divorce, she’d get a generous payout, but he hadn’t. It was like the world’s most excruciating game of chicken.The asshole had been content to live as roommates, pushing her into a dry, sexless existence. Then Mason came along. He was handsome and filthy rich, way richer than Shane. The temptation was too much to resist. She could have the best of both worlds. Shane would eventually divorce her, and she’d get a cut of his money, and she’d move on with Mason. Even if Shane proved her infidelity and she got nothing from him, Mason had a very decent safety net for her to fall into that exceeded any that Shane could provide. It was the soundest option financially, and she’d be done in this dirty ranch life. She’d be done tolerating Shane and pretending she could stand him. Done pretending not to care when he implied that she was shallow or vain. She was just classy. Mason appreciated that. She was pretty sure she could stay faithful to Mason, at least for a while. She had not been faithful in any other relationship in her life, but had only cheated on Shane with Mason, so she had some control.
She felt some unease about Mason on the way home. He’d been strange. Sex had been normal, though seven days straight of meeting his needs had been a bit tedious. He was better in small doses. There was only so much she could praise his looks, his body, and his prowess. The man was needy! His inferiority complex was bigger than Mt. Everest. Why would such a wealthy, handsome man have such issues? For some reason, he’d initiated a lot of sex in the past week, and she could do with some peace.
They’d have a break from each other and be fine, she told herself. He’d leave gold-digging Anna for a life with her, and the stress of keeping their affair secret would be lifted. Life would be so much easier! His constant dark moods would lighten. She could get a new car without having to explain to Shane where it came from. He’d already raised eyebrows at the beautiful things Mason had bought her, but she’d insisted they were gifts from her cousin Tina or that she’d found a great thrift shop bargain.The way he lifted his eyebrow told her that he knew she’d never set foot in a thrift store. Whatever. He hadn’t called her on it and he couldn’t prove anything.
Monday lunch rolled around and as usual, she met Mason at a café. They alternated between different cafes and restaurants, not wanting to become “regulars” at any one place. Having an affair was exhausting. She’d had one night stands before, but an ongoing affair required a great deal of planning.
Mason slumped into his chair, looking irritated and tense.
“What now?” she snapped. His moods were becoming tedious.
“My fucking phone. All morning I’ve had sales calls, fraudsters, and bloody cults ringing me,” he complained. “We must have had our data breached at work again. I’ve had weird emails about sex and diseases. I don’t even want to open my inbox anymore or answer my phone.”
“Well, I’ve received nothing like that so it can’t be company-wide,” April replied.
“Doesn’t matter now. Let’s just eat. I have to get back. I’ve barely got any work done this morning with this damn phone ringing nonstop.”
His phone began to ring.
“Mason Quinn,” he answered tiredly.
“What? Why are you asking about my balls? Fuck off,” he clipped, slamming the phone down on the table.
“That was an STI clinic. Is there something you need to tell me?” he fumed at April.
“Are you kidding me? I’m only fucking you and you’re supposedly only fucking me. Don't come at me with that bullshit. Doyouhave something to tellme?" she sneered.
“Sorry,” he sighed. “Probably another one of those bullshit calls.”
“Have you thought about when we’re going to come out about us?” April asked. “Honestly Mason, I am done with Shane. It’s like living with Voldemort. You tell Anna or I will.”
Mason visibly paled and clutched his glass of water.
“I just need more time,” he pleaded.
“Why?” April snapped. “At this point, you’re in or out.”
“I’m in, I’m in,” he rushed. “I just ... it’s complicated. I don’t want Anna to bleed me dry, so I think we need to cool it for a couple of months before I leave her so she can’t go for any of my money when I leave her. She can’t suspect you exist when I leave her and for the few months after.”
“No. Not good enough. Think about it, Mason. It’s me or her, and if you choose her, I won’t go quietly.”
His phone rang again. He stared at it like it was going to burn him to touch.
“Mason Quinn,” he almost whispered.
He was silent for a while.
“No, I don’t need warehouse insurance. I don’t even have a warehouse. Don’t call again!”
“This is the shittiest day ever,” he seethed.
“Maybe you should—” April began angrily.
