Chapter 32: Questions without Answers

JAMIE

I felt a light touch of fingers on my skin and a voice whispering in my ear.

“Jamie. Jamie.”

I was waking up from the most wonderful dream, but at least it was done in a nice way.

I was dreaming about Mason, naked, of course, despite the fact that I was still furious with him.

And he knew it! He knew it from the second I slipped into the car to leave for the beach house.

Sebastian was behind the wheel, Mason and I in back, as usual.

But we didn’t speak. Not one word was shared between us. He knew better than to try.

My eyes fluttered open and I sat up straighter in my seat.

I yawned, feeling like the sleep I’d had just wasn’t enough.

At least I’d have the entire weekend to sleep late if I wanted to.

Harry, naturally, had been delighted at the prospect of me accompanying Mason and made sure my duties were covered.

It was a good thing too, because I was running out of steam.

Sleeping with Mason Knight was wearing me out. I’d lost count of the number of times we’d had sex over the past few weeks.

Definitely not the quick type either—no, he liked to take his time.

A stunning house sat at the water’s edge—well, what I could see of it from behind.

We are certainly not going to get use out of that beach in this January weather.

Mason leaned over the space between us and undid my seat belt.

“We’re here. You slept the entire way. I guess you were tired. Either that or you’re getting bored with the silent treatment.”

“It’s been a long day. Sitting in a car for hours isn’t making it any better.”

I glanced out the window again, which frustrated him even more.

He’s used to getting what he wants and he’s used to getting away with things.

“Let’s get inside. You’re in quite a mood today, maybe a drink will cheer you up.”

Mason opened the door and stepped out. Sebastian opened my door for me.

Pulling my coat collar up against the cold, I followed Mason around to the front of the house.

The waves crashed against the rocks harshly, and the clouds above were gray and gloomy.

It looked like it was going to be one of those stormy nights.

I followed Mason inside, where he turned on the lights just by simply saying, “Lights on!”

That’s some high-tech rich-people shit right there.

The first thing I noticed were the photos on the walls—the ones of Mason’s mother, Penelope. I remembered her face from the photo I had seen in his apartment.

Such a beautiful woman.

“So this is it. What do you think?”

He slipped off his suit jacket and threw it onto the long corner sofa that was light gray in color.

“There’s some work that needs doing in the kitchen, but I think it’s good enough to cook in?”

I turned my head in his direction.

“We don’t have food. What do you plan on cooking, Mr. Knight?”

I’m famished. I’m not skipping a meal. I’ll just get hangry, and he’ll be the first victim.

He shrugged.

“I don’t mind ordering in if you don’t. If I remember correctly, there’s some good places in the area.”

Says the man who watches everything he puts into his mouth.

Even going out to dinner he’s careful with his order.

Can’t have a body like his by eating potato chips and drinking beer.

I walked through the open-concept living space and picked up a framed photo on the side table by the sofa, a photo of Penelope holding Mason when he was just a young boy.

“Was this taken here?”

“Yes.”

With his hands in the pockets of his pants, Mason walked toward me.

“That was a long time ago.”

He eased the photo from my hands and placed it back on the table. Just as before, he placed it facedown, like it hurt to even look at.

“So you’re still upset with me?”

“How could I not be, Mason? After what you did?”

I sighed in aggravation.

“Not only did you invade my privacy by going through my phone, you deleted a message from Ryan out of jealousy.”

He exhaled and crossed toward the kitchen, where he pulled a bottle of rum from the cupboard and poured himself a glass.

I stood where I was, watching him drink away his frustration and fill his glass again.

“I am jealous, Jamie. I’ve never been jealous before, but I was jealous over another man getting close to you. Is that what you want to hear?”

I’d thought it was.

“I’m not interested in him. I think I’ve made that quite clear.”

I walked closer, placing my hands down on the kitchen island. I took his glass and moved it toward me.

He doesn’t need to drink quite so much.

He braced his palms flat on the countertop and looked down, mulling it over.

“I like you, Jamie.” He lifted his head. “But I’m fucked up and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

He likes me.

But I love him.

But he doesn’t know what he’s doing—I assume, with me.

“What do you mean, fucked up? What’s in there”—I pointed to his head—“that’s got you so closed off? You know you can tell me anything.”

~Come on, Mason. Just give me this. Tell me what’s going on in that crazy head of yours.~

“I…I can’t.”

He turned away and rubbed his short hair.

What the hell is so bad that he can’t tell me?

This has something to do with his mother’s death, I’m sure of it.

“Mason—I just—”

He faced me again.

“Jamie. Don’t push this. Please. It’s not something I want to discuss. Not with you.”

Not with me? Why not me?

If not me, then who?

Sebastian the driver walked into the house carrying our weekend bags and set them down in the living room.

Mason walked past me toward him and the two chatted as they walked to the door.

A few seconds later, the door closed and Mason walked back to me.

“So, takeout?”

He was acting like the conversation we’d just had was a distant memory. He began to open drawers in search of menus.

“Actually, I’m going to go look for a store that’s close by.” I grabbed my bag. “We’re going to need things for breakfast in the morning.”

He gave me a stern look. “You’re going to walk?”

He looked at me like I was crazy because I was walking somewhere instead of driving or being driven.

“Yes, I’m going to walk. I’m not afraid of some fresh air and a little exercise.”

“You can’t go walking alone at night by yourself, it’s not safe.”

He sighed.

“You’re not going alone. I’ll ring a car service to take us back.”

At least he was making some room for my opinions and giving me some control. Whether he likes it or not.

***

I was pushing a shopping cart down the aisle alongside Mason, grabbing random things and throwing them in as we went.

He was incredibly out of place in a supermarket, shopping for groceries.

He has to have done this before?

I opened the door of a fridge, took out a carton of milk, and placed it in the basket.

“You’ve shopped before, haven’t you?”

“Here and there. I have a chef so I don’t feel the need to shop.” He picked up a tin of instant coffee and looked at it. “Is this good?”

The man is a stranger to instant…well, supermarket types at least.

He’s used to drinking from the huge expensive coffee machine back at his penthouse.

If he’s drinking instant coffee, it’s most likely the rich kind, shipped from abroad.

I shook my head. “You won’t like that one.” I scanned the shelf for my usual, and thankfully it was there. “This one.”

I threw it in the cart, and we continued our stroll.

In that suit, Mason stuck out like a sore thumb.

My eyes were on him as he walked ahead, browsing the refrigerated section in search of butter and juice.

What on earth could he be hiding?

Does it have to do with what Harry said, about the guilt over Penelope’s death?

Suddenly, Mason wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave a squeeze, sweet and affectionate.

Very surprising, for him.

“We’re good, right?” he asked.

I smiled at him, hiding everything else underneath it. “We’re good.”