Page 45 of The Real Mason
He sits forward, sliding the mug onto the table. “And I’m sure as hell not going to make it easy for you to avoid what you’re really afraid of.”
My sluggish blood picks up speed.
His gaze dips to my mouth, lingers. “After last night, you’re aware that I know exactly how to make you talk, correct?”
A shiver races along my spine. “Yes.”
“But I’m not going to do that.”
Disappointment slams through me with enough force to bowl me over if I wasn’t sitting down. “You’re not?”
“No.” A simple, flat word.
“Why?”God, I need desperately to be forced. I have to make him push all my fears and worries out into the open, because I can’t do it on my own.
I meet his rock-steady gaze and silently plead.Help me.
His eyes darken to almost black. Mournful. “This isn’t my decision. It’s yours.”
“But…” I twist my hands, looking down at my plate, unable to speak the words of desperation clogging my throat.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yes, I love you too.” The words are automatic after I whispered them over and over last night in the dark.
He rubs his hands over his face, looking tired and weary. “On the surface, this relationship seems like it’s all about what I want, about my will and pleasure. And to an extent that’s true. If you stay, there will be times I give you a choice and times I don’t. Sometimes you won’t like it; sometimes you will.”
My throat tightens. He’s not going to rescue me. I’m going to have to go it alone.
“But underneath all that, this relationship is about you,” he continues, reaching across the table for the first time this morning and laying his hand palm up on the wood surface. “Everything I did to you last night was for your pleasure, even at your most vulnerable and uncomfortable.”
I stare at his strong, capable hand, and big, fat teardrops slip down my cheeks. I nod, unable to speak.
“Yougaveme that responsibility. I didn’t take it from you.”
I slip my fingers into his. How can he make me feel so safe and so scared at the same time?
He squeezes, looking in my eyes. “I can’t take it from you now, just because it would be easier. You have to choose to give it to me. Do you understand?”
I press my lips together as the tears stream down my cheeks.
This time he’s not going to write me a list and give me explicit instructions to follow. He’s not going to give me a road map.
It’s all up to me.
I cover my face and force out the three words I least want to say, even though they are true and right. “I-I need time.”
Silence.
He lifts my hand and brushes his lips softly against my skin before releasing me. “Take all the time you need, Anna.”
My palm falls to the table. “It’s just—”
“Stop. You don’t need to justify what you need. It’s yours. You own that, and I will not take it from you.” His voice is so soft, so understanding.
I look at him, my vision blurry.
His expression is resigned, but concern tightens the corners of his mouth. “This is too important. All I want is your happiness, with or without me.”
