Oh what a tangled web we weave when we first practice to deceive.
Fucking Sir Walter Scott. He certainly wasn’t wrong. He had woven a tangled web, and for what? A woman he didn’t love, didn’t even want sexually anymore. And who had he deceived? His loyal, sweet fiancée. If he thought he felt broken last night, it was nothing on how he felt now.
“Come on, booking’s at 1 pm,” he called out to April, who was no doubt plastering on her makeup for a casual lunch.
“This kind of perfection doesn’t just happen,” she trilled.
This woman’s moods were completely unpredictable. Last night, he thought she wanted to throw him off the balcony, but she’d woken this morning sweet and docile, even offering to rub the crick out of his neck that he’d earned sleeping on the sofa.
They made their way silently to the restaurant. Of course, April ordered the most expensive wine, putting on her Frenchaccent. What he had once found endearing in her now seemed artificial and pretentious. He ordered a beer and the silence between them continued.
“I’m sorry about last night. I’m just feeling so insecure right now,” April said. “I love you so much and I have no doubt we’re meant to be together. This is how the strongest couples are forged Mase, through hardship and challenge.”
“Yeah, self-inflicted challenge,” he muttered.
“Let’s have a nice day. We can go shopping,” she looked at him hopefully.
Fuck no. He barely had any money left. Last night’s dinner had cost him a bomb, and she’d tipped like crazy when they reached the hotel. Not out of any desire to reward people for hard work though. He was certain her motivations were to appear rich. Like she had money to throw away. Add in the in-room treatments she prepaid at the desk at check-in, he was frightened to check his balance.
“Let’s go back to the room and have a bath together,” he suggested, desperate for any activity that wouldn’t further drain his account. He could do it. He could have a long bath with her, listen to her prattle on and somehow make his dick rise to the occasion enough for her to believe he meant it.
“Boring,” she pouted, but thankfully she was distracted by a woman walking past in what was apparently a new skirt from some Italian designer dude’s collection. She droned on all through lunch, giving him a headache. He rubbed his temples. Why had he ever found her impressive? This woman was dull and repetitive. She never shut up but at the same time, she never said anything at all. He couldn’t decide what was worse, her complaints or her demands.
“Let’s go for a walk then. My back could do with it after last night’s crappy sleep,” he suggested with fully intended snark.
“Yeah, and you snored all fucking night so it’s not like I slept,” she said crossing her arms and moving forward in her chair to glare at him.
“Fine, you walk. I’ll shop. Give me your card,” she demanded.
“No, the Bank of Shane can pay for that. I’ve covered everything else,” he snapped back, pushing his empty plate away from him angrily.
The check came and he signed it to his room. Before he drained his after-lunch coffee, the waiter returned.
“Sorry sir, your card has been declined.”
“What?” Mason asked.
“Run it again. God, you people don’t know what you’re doing. I’m an accountant. His card is good,” she snapped.
The waiter obediently disappeared, but reappeared moments later and repeated his message.
Mason sat in his seat, sweating. What could he do? He couldn’t use his joint account with Anna. He was nowhere near where he said he’d be this weekend. How could he explain a $120 lunch charge at a hotel that was hours from his “work site?”
“Um, April, can you cover it please? It must be a banking error.”
April shot daggers at him but handed over her card.
“What the fuck Mase?” she hissed.
“It’s a banking error. I move money around all the time. I’ll fix it,” he promised. “Besides, I’m sure it won’t kill you to coversomethingin this relationship.”
She threw her hands in the air and then crossed them over her chest. Her eyes were pure fire. The poor waiter looked like he thought she was going to bite off his hand when he returned her card.
“I’m going shopping,” she snarled.
“I’m going for a walk on the beach,” he retorted.
They both rose, pushing their chairs back to the point that his chair fell over. Walking in separate directions, they stormed out of the restaurant.
