Mason
Great. Just fucking great.
The one person—the one woman—who I really didn't want to see here at this moment is now sitting in front of me.
She's been texting and calling me relentlessly, and I can't fucking face her. As of right now, I don't know what to say. I've been avoiding her for a reason.
Lorna points to the empty seat at our table and then slides her cold, thin hand on top of mine. It's supposed to be an act of affection to get under Becca's skin, but instead it gets under mine. I want to recoil, but I can't. Her touch repulses me. You have no idea to what end.
"Would you like to join us?" Lorna asks Becca.
Please say no, please say no, please say no, I beg to myself. It's a mantra I somehow hope she can subliminally pick up, but of course I know that's wishful thinking.
I look at Becca's face and I can see a range of emotions flash through her eyes. She's fighting the urge to leave, but she ultimately decides to stay.
"I think I have an extra few minutes to spare," she says.
Fuck. Of course she's deciding to stick around.
She looks at me, trying to decipher what's going on, but I refuse to hold her gaze. I can't stomach looking at her right now. I've ignored her for this long, what's another day, right? Except that every minute at this table seems to stretch out for a fucking eternity.
I bring my glass to my lips and take a drink of my tea. Before you shake your head, I'm not going soft. I'll be hitting the scotch soon enough, don't you worry, but for now, I'm taking it easy.
"So, what brings you two here?" Becca asks us, her brows knitted. She's trying to act casual.
Lorna turns to me and smiles. She brings her hand to my neck and gives it a gentle, affectionate squeeze. I can't help but picture her hand as a baby anaconda slithering around my shoulders and threatening to squeeze the life out of me at any moment.
"We're having a romantic night out," Lorna replies.
I nearly choke on my tea. Romantic? Is that what she calls this? That's a laugh. But of course Becca doesn't know any better. She's having a hard time wrapping her head around all of this, and honestly, I don't blame her.
It's 360 degree change from the last time we spoke.
It's true that I've been playing along, but this meal, together with Lorna, is far from romantic.
Becca eyes me suspiciously, but again, I look away. I still can't stand to look her in the eyes.
Just then, a waiter approaches us, bringing our food.
"Here's one plate of seared Ahi Tuna ribbons, with minted Mizuna salad and soy and toasted peanut dressing," the waiter says, placing it in front of Lorna.
"And here's one plate of basted prawns with spicy, golden pineapple, and smoked bacon," he continues, this time placing the food in front of me.
Our entire table smells of the Far East.
"Last, I have a side of toasted quinoa pilaf."
He places this one in the middle and then turns to Becca.
"Would you like to order anything ma'm?"
She has the menu open in front of her and is scanning their offerings. Just when I think she may not actually order anything, and it was all for show, she responds.
"Yes, I think I'll just have a salad—the Chicken Cobb, but please go light on the blue cheese … and buttermilk dressing."
"You bet. One Chicken Cobb will be out shortly ma'm," the waiter says, nodding his approval.
As soon as he leaves, and Lorna has Becca's full attention, she leans over and playfully kisses my neck and cheek. She's resting against my shoulder in what feels like an overly exaggerated way.
It feels that way because it is.
I catch a glimpse of Becca and her cheeks flush a deep pink.
Fuck. I can barely stand it.
This is killing me to go along with Lorna's games.
"This place is beautiful, isn't it Mason?" Julian asks me, turning toward me all of a sudden.
I nod, but don't say a word.
"And this is just the beginning," Lorna continues, raking the tips of her red fingernails through my hair and against my scalp. "We have quite the evening planned." She is now dragging her manicured hand across my chest.
She's trying so hard to rub all of this—her and I, and this meal, and this time together—in Becca's face, and it seems to be working.
Becca is becoming visibly upset, but she's working hard to keep her emotions in check. The waiter brings her salad and she instantly uses it as a diversion, crunching into the lettuce with her fork and scooping up some of the buttermilk dressing.
"Darling, excuse me for one moment," Lorna says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I need to use the restroom; I'll be right back."
"Take your time."
As soon as she is out of earshot, Becca explodes.
"Are you SERIOUS? What's going on Mason? I've been texting and calling you for days! You won't answer and you aren't showing up to the office. Are you avoiding me?"
"It's complicated," I say.
"Complicated? Is that all you can say? I've been needing to talk to you and you're acting as if I don't exist."
Seeing her like this makes my stomach do somersaults. It kills me. It really does.
"This wasn't my choice," I say.
"I've heard that before," she replies. "Just answer one thing for me. Is all of this real?"
"What, exactly, are you referring to?"
"THIS! All of this … the romantic meal, all of this outward affection … you and Lorna … all of it," she says. "Are you falling for her?"
I look into her eyes. Her confusion is palpable.
I want to tell her how I really feel, how I meant what I said before; I can't stand Lorna, but none of that comes out of my mouth.
For the first time in a long time, I'm nearly speechless.
"I have to do what's best for the company, Becca," I say.
I watch as tears tug at the corners of her eyes.
I'm fucking dying inside. Literally dying.
It's like someone is holding a match to my insides, burning me slowly, and there's nothing I can do about it except to allow my heart to be set ablaze.