Page 11 of Please Open Me
“I thought you were going to get coffee. Or see your girlfriend. Or something.”
“I did get coffee.” She held up a clear plastic cup filled with something vaguely green and frothy. I knew her well enough to know she was holding a Banana Bread Matcha from the café near the daycare.
Shit. That meant Ididhave more time. I'd just completely fucking lost track of it.
“Plus, I’m seeing Mattie at the gym in—” Mason glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the tacky cat clock in the corner “—about two hours.”
Slowly, she walked toward me, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor.
“Why are you here?” I asked, trying not to sound defensive.
Mason took a drink of her matcha latte before placing it on the counter and grabbing a pot from the rack.
“With everything going on this morning, I ended up throwing away like half my breakfast.” She placed the pot on the cast iron grate and twisted the knob. The sound of the gas igniter filled the air.
Click. Click. Click.WHOOSH!
A blue flame jumped to life. Mason absentmindedly hummed a familiar melody as she used the pot filler to add a bit of water. She moved slowly, like she had nothing better to do. And that made me so fucking nervous I could barely stand it.
“This probably sounds stupid, but it feels like I haven’t eaten in days,” she continued, going to the dry goods cabinet.
I thought for sure she’d pull out oatmeal, or maybe grits. My expression creased the second I saw the pack of instant ramen.
“Can you show me how to make these like you did the other night?” she asked.
Her expectant stare let me know I’d been silent for far too long.
My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth as I forced a smile Ihopedlooked less terrified than it felt.
“Of course.” I took the plastic from her hands and placed it near the stove, waiting for the water to boil before doing anything.
Mason didn’t like instant noodles. She’d once called them “unsuitable for human consumption.” But Tuesday night? I came home late, tossed a pack in the pot, and she’d asked for a bite. Gave some excuse about them smelling good.
One bite. That’s all she wanted.
Then she finished the bowl and asked for more.
It was the most I’d seen Mason eat in one sitting since having Rosie. While I teased her and blamed it on breastfeeding, I had a feeling something else was going on.
I tore the pack open, not yet dumping it into the pot, and leaned against the counter. Arms crossed, I did my best to act casual, but just as I tried to strike up conversation, her gaze landed on the small cabinet above me.
Shit.
“Hey, can you hand me my birth control? I think I forgot to take it yesterday.”
Her question washed over me like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on my head.
“Uh, no you didn’t,” I scoffed. “I watched you take it before I went to work.”
Her brows drew together in a look of consternation.
“Did I?”
I nodded. Maybe a little too fast to look genuine.
And Mason knew me too well to let that slide.
“Oh, well... Can you give it to me now? I should probably take it while I’m thinking about it.”
