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Anna struggled to keep herself busy in the lead up to Mason’s return home. The house was relatively clean, her sewing was up to date and Barnabus was fed, though he was still begging for more. She stroked the cat’s soft fur. Barnabus was an unpredictable floofer. One minute, he was sweet and friendly, the next, he’d turn on his fat little furred feet and show you his asshole. He wasn’t a scratcher or a biter, but he certainly made his disdain known if he didn’t have time for you.
Mason slunk in the door, looking exhausted.
“Hi Anna. What a fucking day. Lilah is pushing her bitchy face in my business again and Kate is insisting that we work together on the new account. Kate’s been managing us for years. She should know we’re like water and oil. She takes a swipe at me at every available opportunity.”
Anna walked over and rubbed his back. “Want me to heat up dinner?”
“Nah, but thanks. I’ll take it for lunch tomorrow. We ended up getting takeout,” Mason said through a yawn. “I’m gonna hit the shower.” He kissed her lips, put his briefcase on the sofa, and wandered off to the bedroom. Mason was a good-looking guy. He was self-conscious about his height, which was ridiculous. At 5’11”, he stood well over Anna’s 5’3” frame. He had a muscularbuild and thick black hair. His rich, chocolate-colored eyes were one of Anna’s favorite things about him. She complimented him frequently, knowing his need for assurance. For a handsome, well-built man, he had so many complexes.
Anna was comfortable with herself. She didn’t imagine she was any great beauty, but her friends disagreed. She was brunette, with blonde highlights. Her eyes were a basic blue, but big, and she did like their cat-like shape. As a dancer, she had a slim body. Not much of a butt, but plenty of boobage, as Rosa called it. These days, she was neutral about her boobs. They’d killed her ballet aspirations, and as a teen, that infuriated her. After weeks of not eating and trying to trim down, her dad had put his foot down. Madame Celeste had insisted that body shape didn’t affect ballet ability, but Anna felt intimidated by the slim, willow-like bodies of her ballet peers and frustrated at her mother’s genetic boob legacy. She had given up ballet and discovered she much preferred modern and ballroom dance anyway. She still taught ballet but didn’t need to be a prima ballerina to teach kids under 10!
Once she heard the water running, Anna opened his case. Boring. Just a bunch of work papers, a pack of gum, and some old lanyards and ID passes. Gross. Dried old snotty tissues too. She crept into the bedroom, listening to his rendition of Nirvana’s “Drain You.” It was pretty bad, but she loved it when he sang in the shower. Something in her lightened; he was the old Mason tonight.
She slipped her hand into his jacket pocket, taking out his phone. He hadn’t changed his code. That was a good sign according to Mel. In her novels, the cheater always changed his access code. Not Mason. His code was still her birthday. She opened his texts. Nothing that interesting. Thinly veiled insults between Lilah and Mason, texts from his mom about her broken heater, and a few gym memes from his friend Brendan.
She searched all his texts for “love,” “baby,” and “fiancée,” but found nothing interesting. She was about to lock the phone when she noticed a red icon. He had the Hudson’s Bank app. Why? They banked with First National. She opened the app and tried her birthday as his passcode. It didn’t work. Neither did his birthdate. That was weird. Why did he have a different account? They had a few joint accounts between them and that was it. Was it his mom’s? Did he look after her banking when she was in hospital and the rehab center?
She heard the spraying of deodorant and quickly returned the phone to his jacket pocket. This may be nothing, but if it was something, Mel said she shouldn’t surrender what she knew because she should never give him time to hide evidence of the other woman or concoct a convincing story. The lightness she felt earlier left her. She still couldn’t believe he was a cheater, but the gambling theory could explain the app. He was hiding his spending. He was receiving more commissions than ever but was he directing them to another account at Hudson’s and using them to play poker?
Years earlier, when they’d only been together for year, Mason had confessed to a gambling problem. He’d grown up not exactly poor, but probably on the border of it. Anna had admired his courage in confessing his problem and seeking support. He’d confronted his feelings about not feeling like “enough,” and had worked hard to end his habit. With the help of his mom and Anna, Mason had recovered. He’d shifted his priorities from money, status symbols, and approval to happiness with Anna, closeness with his mom and sister, and a steady career.
No. It couldn’t be gambling or cheating. Anna’s relief was short lived. If it wasn’t that, what was it? Was he unhappy with her? The thought made her heart hurt and her breaths shallow.
Chapter 3: Anna—Eggplant and roast chicken
Mason had collapsed into bed the previous night, with little more than a brief kiss and an annoyingly dramatic sigh. Why was he suddenly so annoying? Even the way he gargled his water that morning had got under her skin. Anna slept badly, creating scenarios in her head and panicking herself about where each scenario would lead. Catastrophizing is what her sister Eliza called it. Anna was pretty good at catastrophizing but it’s not like she did it for no reason. She was a planner. A cautious person. Part of that meant strategizing for what might come her way. In the end, all she ended up with for her night of “strategy” were bags under her eyes and exhaustion in her bones.
Later at work, Anna texted Mason to remind him of her family dinner that night. Every two weeks, she and Mason had dinner with her dad and her sister. His response was almost immediate.
Mason: Shit. Things are crazy here. I’ll have to meet you there. Will probably be half hour late. Will make it up to you *eggplant emoji*
Okay. That seemed reasonable. The eggplant was no doubt his most used emoji. It used to be cute, like a sweet but dirty language between them. Now she felt like it was mocking her. Placating her.
The rest of her shift dragged until she finally climbed into her car and drove the 15 minutes to her dad’s house. James Harris was an efficient, ex-military man and his incredibly organized personality was reflected in her childhood house. Neat, tidy lawns sat before a well-kept house. Eliza’s car was already parked in the drive in her usual crooked, rushed way.
“Hey Dad,” Anna greeted, kissing his cheek.
“Hey Lady Anna,” he greeted back. When she was seven, Anna had decided she wanted to be royalty, but not a princess.That felt like she was reaching too high, so she’d insisted her name was Lady Anna. Her dad had found it charming and never let it go.
“Wine? Eliza’s already cracked a bottle,” James offered.
“Sure, count me in,” Anna enthusiastically accepted. Before she could even turn around, Eliza pushed a glass of wine in her hand, giving her a side hug.
“I’ve done a roast for my girls tonight,” James stated proudly. The smell of roast chicken wafted through the house as they all sat in the lounge.
“Mason’s running late, but he’ll be here,” Anna explained. James smiled woodenly. He got along well with Mason, but Anna could always tell he didn’t fully approve. But then, her dad was a protective man, devoted to his daughters, so she had a feeling no one would be good enough for his girls. Eliza had certainly tested his patience with her last boyfriend, who was unemployed. James had listened to his tales of “finding himself” with a thin veneer of patience. Thankfully, the self-professed “freedom seeker” and “lost soul” became yet another minor footnote in the book of Eliza’s life.
“No problem. It’ll give us a chance to chat before he gets here. Anna, you know your trust is due for settlement in January. Please tell me you’ve given more thought to my suggestions.” James said the words seriously, his face the picture of concern.
Anna gave a half smile, feeling her blood pressure rise. She felt so caught in the middle. She understood her dad’s desire to protect her, but she was marrying Mason in eight short months. They shared everything. When James suggested she have legal documents drafted to protect her money from Mason in the event of a split, Anna had been furious. Eliza hadn’t offered much support to James, agreeing with Anna that marriages shouldn’t be defined or divided by money or assets. But Anna did see his point, very begrudgingly. Her grandparentshad worked hard for that money, founding a dental supplies business out of their home and working it into a multimillion-dollar empire. When her mother Ellen died delivering Eliza 22 years ago, her maternal grandparents had offered to give James Ellen’s inheritance early to help him raise his two little girls. A proud man, James had refused, insisting instead that the money be placed into trusts for the girls to be handed over when they turned 25.
Both grandparents had been gone several years now, and their wills had dictated that the rest of their funds be directed to their only grandchildren—Anna and Eliza—leaving both girls with an inheritance of just under $4m each. James had taken it upon himself to teach the girls about money management and the importance of protecting their assets. Anna understood that his stance on legal agreements stemmed from his love and concern for them, but it still created an uncomfortable tension between her and Mason. Mason had declared that he’d sign anything, but also understood Anna’s desire to go all in. And that’s where it was left.
“Dad, I get it. I really do, but I’ve decided to just pool my money in with his. We’re going to be married. What’s mine is his and what’s his is mine. You and Mom shared money, Nan and Gramps shared money, and there were never any issues. The fact that Mason was willing to sign the documents tells me I have nothing to worry about. Even if we did split, I know he’d never take my money," Anna shared nervously, awaiting the inevitable head shake from James. Mason’s prior gambling problem was the only element of her plan that gave her doubt. She reasoned that if she saw excessive spending, she could address it then. Besides, he had not had an issue since his initial recovery. He even paused when buying raffle tickets for charities.
“Okay, well you know my thoughts,” James stated tersely.
