“Didn’t
go well?”
“The
actual sleeping with him part went very well. It was the morning after that
seemed to go downhill.”
“What
happened?”
“Absolutely
nothing. He was gone by the time I got up. Not a note, not a kiss on the
forehead, not even a pot of coffee brewing. He was just gone.”
“Hmm.”
Emma
leaned forward, her head in her hands, and looked up at her grandmother with a
pained expression. “What have I done, Gran?” she whispered.
“What
any sane red-blooded woman in your place would do, Emma. That man is temptation
personified. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Emma
shook her head ruefully. “I’m an idiot.”
“He’s
the idiot for not appreciating my beautiful granddaughter. Now come on. Let’s
go get a cup of coffee and put some Bailey’s in it. It’ll make you feel
better.”
“You’re
going to make me an alcoholic yet.”
“The
day that you say you’ll put some coffee in your Baileys’ will be the day I
worry.”
But
Emma just sighed and leaned back on the couch. “So what do I do now?” she
asked.
“You’ve
got a lot of options, Emma. You can stay here with me, but that’s called
running away. You can go home this evening and let him have it between the
eyes, but that might be overreacting. And I’ve never been an advocate of the
silent treatment. If something bothers you, you deal with it. So I’d suggest
either option b or c, which are somewhere in the middle of a, d, and e.”
Emma
gave a slight smile. “OK. I’ll bite. What are options b and c?”
“B
is going home later today and pretending that last night never happened. No
furtive glances, no silent treatment, just treat him like you treated him last
week. It will require every ounce of willpower and sincere acting ability, but
it will make him crazy.”
“And
option c?”
“Talk
to him. Not aggressively, not like a scared little girl, but like an adult with
an issue to deal with.”
Emma
thought about it for a moment, then asked, “Can’t I just sic Chaos on him?”
“Probably
not, since that crazy dog now loves him almost as much as you.”
Emma
sighed. "I should have known this would happen," she said quietly.
“Emma.
Relax. If he acts like a jerk, you learned early on what he’s like, and you can
deal with the rest of your time with him appropriately. But he might just have
needed time to think. So give him that time. See what happens.”
“You’re
right. Of course you’re right. OK. Option b it is. Because if I try option c,
he’ll shut down. We’ll talk when he’s ready.”
“Good
choice. OK. Let’s go get coffee. And then we’ll hit the grocery store.
PowerBall is up to $78 million, so I’m playing.”
“For
a smart woman, you’re kinda overly optimistic on your chances with the lottery,
Gran.”
“Oh
shush,” the old woman said as she stood up and patted Emma's knee. “A girl can
dream.”
Pulling
into the garage a few hours later, groceries in tow, Emma took a deep breath.
This was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, she thought. But she
would do it. Pulling the tote bag full of produce from her trunk, Emma hefted
it over her shoulder and walked into the house.
Mason
was home. His car was in the garage, and she heard vague sounds coming from his
office. But Emma thought back to what she would have done last week. She headed
upstairs to let Chaos out. Opening the door to her room, she giggled. Max had
done a number on the room. He’d evidently climbed curtains, knocked things off
her dresser, and then fallen fast asleep in the middle of her bed.
“Am
I going to need to crate you too, little man?” she asked as she picked up the
kitten and then let an exuberant Chaos out of his crate and out the patio door
into the back yard. Carrying the little squirmy guy on her shoulder, she picked
up the mess he’d made of her things, and then went downstairs to put the
groceries away, carrying the cat with her.
In
the kitchen, she set Max down on his bed, and moved around the room expertly.
She was going over to her parents for dinner that night, so she wasn’t cooking.
Everything went into its place. When she was done, she looked at her watch.
2:30. She had more than enough time for a run. Changing into her running
clothes, she shut Max back into her room, whistled for Chaos, and they set off
down the street to the local park.
She
loved watching her dog run. Of all the things he loved most in life (food,
balls, running, food, her, her family, food, Mason), running seemed to be the
one thing that put a huge smile on his face. His gait was goofy, but efficient,
and he always seemed to be pulling her along on the leash, no matter how fast
she moved. Now, following behind Chaos, she was again struck at how happy he
was. No worries, no cares, just a drive to go forward. The possibility of food
being in front of him was enough to give him incentive.
She
took a longer run than normal. She had time, the day was amazing, and she had a
lot of stress to work out. When she finally walked back in the door of Mason’s
home, it was after 4:30. After letting Chaos out into the backyard to sleep on
the deck, she headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. When she walked
in, Mason was standing at the sink, looking out the back window. Max was
perched on his shoulder.
Here
we go, she thought.
“Hey,”
she said as she strolled over to the fridge. “How much damage did Max cause
this time around?”
Mason
turned when she walked in, his face tight, obviously expecting her to ask him
about last night. But Emma just reached into the fridge, grabbed a bottle of
water, and then walked over to reach up and scritch the cat’s head.
“When
I left him this morning, he managed to pull down one curtain and clean off all
the stuff on my dresser. Please tell me that he just slept this afternoon.”
Mason
handed Max over to her, and she took him gladly, turning away from Mason and
rubbing her face in his little kitten fur.
Mason’s
response sounded cautious, like there might be hidden meaning in her words. “I
think he slept. I didn’t see any damage, but I just opened the door to let him
out. I didn’t really look carefully.”
Emma
sighed. “OK. I'll go assess. Let’s go, little man. Hopefully you didn’t do any
permanent harm.” Kitten in one hand and water in the other, Emma headed for the
stairs. She felt Mason’s eyes on her, but he didn’t say a word. Gran was right,
Emma thought. This was the way to play it. They’d talk when he was ready.
Opening
the door to her room, Emma was pleased to see that Max had indeed slept for a
good chunk of the afternoon. The bed had a little kitten-sized indentation on
it, and she saw no other signs of mayhem. Placing Max back down on the bed, she
grabbed her robe and headed into the shower.
Under
the steaming water, Emma replayed her short conversation with Mason. She had
guessed right that morning when she woke up - Mason was uncomfortable around
her now. He may have wanted her last night, but it was clear that in the light
of day there was nothing between them. On his side, anyway. Her reaction to him
was as strong as ever, and hiding it was more difficult than she’d thought it
would be. But it was important, she knew. If she, in any way, displayed
neediness or possessiveness, he’d retreat even further. And two-plus years of
cold silence was more than even she could handle. They might not come out of
this as lovers, but they needed to come out as friends.
That
was the thing, Emma realized. Mason needed her. He didn’t know it, but he did.
He needed a friend. He needed someone on his side. And even if it hurt, even if
he never touched her again like he had last night, she would try like the
dickens to support him.
Stepping
out of the shower and toweling off, she let Chaos back into her room. He walked
over, sniffed Max, then settled down suspiciously on the floor next to his
crate. He wasn’t sure yet about the cat, but Emma wasn’t worried. Chaos would
adjust.
She
put on a pair of worn blue jeans and pulled an old University of Michigan
t-shirt over her head. She quickly blow-dried her hair, then pulled it back
into a ponytail. After slipping into an old pair of tennis shoes, she was ready
to go. She made sure that Max had plenty of food and fresh water, kissed him on
the head, told him to be good and not destroy too much, and whistled for Chaos.
The
two of them traipsed down the stairs, Chaos immediately heading for the kitchen
in search of food. Emma laughed at the sight of him vacuuming the floor near
where Mason had been standing. The dog was convinced that anyone standing in
the kitchen was likely to have dropped food, and Emma did not disabuse him of
that notion. He was usually right.
As
she was picking up her purse and her keys, she looked up to see Mason coming
down the stairs, dressed to the nines in a dark suit and tie. Her heart
clenched. He looked amazing, and sexy, and... well, kind of angry.
“You’re
not ready yet?” he asked.
“Ready
for what?”
“The
cocktail party at the Alvarez’s.”
Emma
thought hard. She was sure she would have remembered if he’d told her about
this. She always marked social events on her calendar, and she had checked
before agreeing to go over to her parents’ home.
“When
did you tell me about this?” she asked cautiously.
“Last
week. You forgot?”
“Exactly
when last week, Mason?”
“I
don't know,” he said dismissively. “I probably mentioned it over dinner one
night.”
“You
weren’t home for dinner last week, Mason. And I would have remembered a
cocktail party invitation, because it would have thrown me into the usual state
of panic as I tried to figure out what to wear.”
“Well,
we still have time. Just wear anything. Nobody will notice.”
Emma
looked up at her husband and blinked. He was an insulting, rude, and incredibly
frustrating man. Too bad for her that she still liked the man. But too bad for
him - she wasn’t changing plans this time. Her relationship with her family was
just starting to mend, and she was not going to risk messing it up again.
“No.
I’m not going with you. You did not tell me about it. I have plans. You’ll have
to go without me tonight.”
Anger
flashed briefly in his eyes. “Our deal...”
“If
you can’t be bothered to tell me about social events on your calendar that
you’d like me to accompany you to, then I can’t be bothered to change my plans.
I’m not going. Deal with it.”
His
eyes narrowed. “If this is because...”
Emma
interrupted, her own temper flaring. “Do NOT go there, Mason. Do not. Have a
nice time tonight,” she said, turning around and reaching for Chaos’ leash and
her purse. She looked over her shoulder at him. He was positioned in the
doorway, imperiously. Her heart sank. The cold and emotionless man was back.
And he was just standing there, watching her. Gripping her keys, she opened the
back door to let Chaos in, then clipped the leash to his collar, holding him
tightly so he wouldn’t jump up on Mason. Without another look, she headed for her
car.
Mason
was stunned. He had expected that she’d offer to change her plans for him.
After all, what could her plans involve if she was dressed like that, and if
she was taking Chaos? Truthfully, he couldn’t remember if he’d told her about
tonight or not, but she was normally free when he asked her to attend events
with him, so he hadn’t really thought it would matter.
She’d
just taken the dog and walked out.
He
was also surprised that she didn’t seem to want to talk about last night. Or
this morning. She was acting like it had never happened. Any other woman he
knew would have wanted to analyze it to death, and would want to know why he’d
left her bed this morning and disappeared for the day. And his response would
have been coldly sardonic - he had things to do, and didn’t plan to just lie
around all morning.
The
problem was, he had badly wanted to lie around with Emma this morning. She had
been amazing last night, and he had gratefully taken what she offered with such
humor and kindness. But this morning, feeling the way that he did, he had
slipped out of bed and run away. Despite his feelings for Emma, he still didn’t
know if he wanted a relationship. He had never wanted an emotional connection
with anyone, and she would demand that, at the very least, if they continued to
have a physical connection.
He
rubbed his face. What in the hell had he been thinking last night? Other than
that he wanted this woman more than he wanted air to breathe? And still did, if
he was honest with himself. But her reaction to him, her complete lack of
interest in what had happened last night and this morning, surprised him. She
had had a good time last night, he was sure of it. And she had given herself to
him freely, willingly, passionately. But maybe that’s all she wanted - one
night.