Chapter 19

 

Despite my absolutely appalling abuse of the French language, the taxi driver somehow recognised the address I gave him. At least, I thought he did. There had been a lot of enthusiastic nodding and a quite liberal use of the word ‘oui’ – which was pretty much the extent of my French – and then he dropped me at the end of a long drive that led to a huge, old house. I questioned whether it was the right place, but he merely waved cheerily and drove away.

I threw my backpack over my shoulder and began to walk up toward the house. Over to the left, I could see a row of neat, little gȋtes. Maybe the taxi driver had assumed I was here for a holiday and renting out one of the gȋtes. It certainly looked like it was a nice place to stay, but I was a bit dubious of my chances of finding Mason here.

“What do you want?”

I looked up, surprised. A woman stood on the steps of the big house, her arms folded across her chest as she glared at me. She was definitely English – and even more definitely unfriendly. I wondered if all of her guests got such a frosty reception or if it was just me she had taken an instant dislike to.

“Sorry,” I said. “I think I must be in the wrong place.”

“That depends,” she answered. “Which one are you?”

“Which one?” I repeated, staring at her blankly. “I sorry. I don’t understand.”

She came down the steps, her expression positively glacial. I resisted the urge to take a step backward. She was no taller than I was, but I knew from experience that short girls were not to be messed with. What they lacked in height, they made up for in attitude. I didn’t know who she was or why she didn’t like me, but she sure as shit scared the Hell out of me.

“Are you Eric?” she asked, enunciating each syllable with deliberate care as though she was speaking to an imbecile. “Or are you Liam?”

“I’m…um…Eric,” I said hesitantly, wondering if there was a right answer to her question. “You must be the sister.”

“Lizzie.” It was like some sort of internal switch had suddenly been flipped. Gone was the passive aggression and steely-eyed gaze, and with it the ice-queen persona. She threw her arms around me, hugging me so tight I swear I heard a couple of ribs crack. “I can’t believe you came. I mean – I told Mason you would, but he said you were back with your boyfriend and it was over.” She held me at arms’ length, her eyes searching my face. “You’re not, are you? Back with the ex?”

“No. I know it looked bad, but it was a set up. Mason took off before I could explain.”

Lizzie nodded in understanding. “Yes, well…my brother has always had a tendency to act first and think later. He’s what you might call high maintenance, as is befitting his rock and roll life style. Not so great when it comes to finding a boyfriend – or rather keeping one.”

“Have there been…has he had many?” I asked as I followed her up the stone steps to the front door of the big house.

“Sweetheart, if you’re asking how many men my brother has slept with, I couldn’t begin to tell you. Hell, I don’t even want to know! But, if you’re asking about actual boyfriends, then…no, there hasn’t been that many. Three, maybe four, that you might call serious.”

“Was Liam serious?” I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to that one, but I wanted to hear it from someone who knew Mason well and cared for him.

“Liam?” Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Liam was a mistake. A meaningless fling who doesn’t know when to back off. You, however – the way Mason talked about you, it was love at first sight.”

“Really?” I knew I was blushing as I followed Lizzie across the vast, tiled floor of the foyer.

“Oh, I know it sounds horribly romantic,” Lizzie said. She turned to smile at me. “Anyone would think you were the famous one. Poor Mason never stood a chance. He was positively star struck from the start.”

“Star struck?” I stopped walking and stared at her. “It’s funny, you’re the second person to say that.”

“Well, then it must be true.” Lizzie pointed along a wide corridor. “He’s in the sunroom at the end.”

She placed her hands on my shoulders and gave me a push in the direction she had just indicated. I walked slowly along the corridor, suddenly nervous. Lizzie might be pleased to see me, but her brother could have a different opinion. He had left me in Weymouth, and fled – not just back to London – but all the way to Southern France. He had left strict instructions at the club not to reveal his whereabouts to anyone. What if he was angry that I was there? What if he found out from whom I had gotten the address and Ollie lost his job? Or, what if Mason told me to fuck off back to England, meaning I had borrowed all that money from Killigan for nothing? I glanced over my shoulder to see Lizzie watching from the end of the corridor.

“Go on!” she mouthed her encouragement and made a shooing motion with her hands.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. Mason stood with his back to me, his phone held to his ear. He turned as I entered the room and his eyes widened with shock. Much to my relief, he seemed more surprised than angry to see me. Then again, he didn’t look exactly overjoyed by my appearance either.

“Yeah, listen, Mac, I’ll have to call you back,” he said into the phone. “Yeah, yeah. Five minutes, I swear.”

He hung up and dropped the phone onto the cushion of the chair he was stood next to. We stared at each other, wordlessly. Mason looked almost edible in faded jeans and a black, V-neck t-shirt. I dropped my backpack to the floor, and wished I had gone to the hotel to freshen up instead of rushing straight out here from the airport. I looked a mess and I had to stink to high Heaven.

“You’re here.” Okay, so that was a case of stating the obvious in a totally non-committal tone of voice. Mason had yet to smile or give any indication that he actually wanted me there.

“You chased after me when I ran away to Weymouth,” I said lightly. “It only seemed fair I do the same when you run away to France.”

“How does your boyfriend feel about that?”

“I haven’t got a boyfriend. I was kind of hoping you wanted the job.”

Mason snorted. “I know what I saw, Eric. I thought –”

“You saw what Rufus wanted you to see,” I interrupted. “And you thought exactly what he wanted you to think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m not back with Rufus. I never was. He’s not the one I want, Mason. You are.”

Mason bowed his head, and stood with his hands on his hips. He was quiet, however, and I took that as a sign he was at least listening to me.

“I’m not sure I believe in love at first sight. I’ve just come out of a relationship with someone I thought I loved. Someone I thought loved me. So, you have to understand why I might feel a bit wary right now. I do like you, Mason. I really like you. I want to be in a relationship with you and see if we can make it work. But, if we’re going to give us a chance, we need to stop running away from each other.”

“I want that too, but…”

“But what?” I pressed, when it became clear Mason was not about to finish the sentence willingly.

He sighed, and looked up at me with a surprisingly guilty expression. “I might have done something really stupid.”

“Okay.”

Was he trying to tell me he had already been with someone else? My heart plummeted in my chest at the thought he could have moved on so quickly. He said he wanted to be with me so obviously the other guy didn’t mean anything to him, but it still hurt. Rufus had cheated on me, numerous times according to Stefan, and I didn’t think I could be in a relationship like that again. I didn’t want to share Mason. More than that, I wanted to be with someone for whom I was enough. Someone who wanted me and only me and wouldn’t have their head turned by every pretty face they met.

“That was Arcadia’s manager I was talking to on the phone,” Mason said. He ran his hands through his thick hair, and gave an exasperated groan. “I thought you were back with Rufus. The last thing I wanted was to see you and him coming into Keane’s, looking all happy together.”

“So?” I was confused, not sure what it was he was trying to tell me. I wished he would get to the point and put me out of my misery.

“So…I’m going back to the band. I just agreed to perform at a big charity gig in New York, and then go straight into the studio to lay down some new tracks. After that, Mac wants Arcadia to tour. Let the fans see I’m back.”

“How long will you be gone?”

It was a relief, in some small way that his strange reaction was not down to my presence being unwelcome. I got what he was saying though. How could we hope to build a relationship if he was going to be on the road for God knows how long?

“Months,” Mason admitted. “A year, maybe more.”

“Do you ever think fate is against us?” I asked, with a sad smile. “We should just accept it, Mason. We’re not meant to be.”

“Don’t say that.” Mason stepped forward and wrapped his massive arms around me. He rested his forehead against mine. “I know you want to take things slowly, but this might be our last chance to make this thing work. That’ll never happen if we’re on opposite sides of the Atlantic. So, please…come with me.”

“To America?” I tipped my head back and stared up at him, surprised. “Mason, I can’t just…”

“Why not? What is there for in you in London? A job you hate? Your ex-boyfriend?”

It wasn’t that I particularly hated my job – or Rufus, for that matter – but America? Tempting as it sounded, I didn’t want to be totally dependent on Mason.

“You can be Arcadia’s personal medic,” Mason said, reading my mind. “I’ll get you on the payroll. Please, Eric. I need you there with me.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes!” Lizzie’s excited voice came from the hallway, and I wondered if she had been out listening to us all along.

“You’d better listen to her,” Mason warned with mock seriousness. “She gives a wicked Chinese burn if she doesn’t get her own way.”

“In that case,” I said, hardly able to believe what I was about to say. “Yes.”