Love and Chaos (33 page)

She
needed sleep, but she was sure sleep wouldn't come. Not yet. So maybe a cup of
tea first. And hydrating was a good idea after three margaritas earlier in the
day anyway. She didn’t want to wake up hung-over tomorrow - the last thing she
wanted was to have a headache AND to have to deal with Mason.

Still
in her work clothes, she changed into a pair of comfortable pajamas - long dark
blue waffle fabric on the bottom stretching to her ankles, and a navy blue
long-sleeved t-shirt on top. She washed her face with cold water to combat the
puffiness around her eyes, then checked the mirror quickly to be sure she
looked decent in case anyone glanced in one of their kitchen windows. Stepping
quietly into the hallway, she was careful to close the door behind her so Chaos
didn’t follow her down and awaken Mason. No, scratch that, she thought as she
eased out into the hallway. Mason was still awake - a light shone brightly
through the crack under his door. Opening her door again, she left it ajar so
Chaos could follow if he chose to. Max was nowhere in sight - perhaps he was in
with Mason.

In
the kitchen, she turned on a soft light over the stove, and proceeded to make
herself a cup of tea. Chaos appeared next to her, and just leaned against her,
as if somehow knowing that she was upset. With the water heating on the cooktop
and a bag of tea in a teacup ready to be steeped, she knelt down to rub her
dog’s ears.

“It’s
going to be ok, Chaos. Really. We’ll figure this out.”

Chaos
looked up at her with a look on his face, as if to say,
of course we will.

Standing
up, she poured hot water into her cup and allowed the teabag to sit for a few
minutes while she stared out the back window into the darkness. Wow, she
thought. Not good. Standing in the dark staring at nothing. Shaking her head at
her own foolishness, she turned back toward the counter to pick up her tea. And
nearly had a heart attack.

“For
the love of God, Mason. Give a girl a warning if you’re going to sneak up on
her.”

He
shook his head. “I wasn’t sneaking. You were lost in thought.”

“Then
clear your throat or trip over the cat or something. Geez. I think I lost five
years of my life.”

Mason
was still in his trouser bottoms and his long-sleeve shirt, but he’d removed
the tie and his shoes and socks and was standing barefoot in the kitchen.
Emma’s heart tripped over itself as she watched him lean back against the
counter, his arms crossed.

“Why
are you still up?” she asked.

But
Mason gave no sign that he’d heard her. He just stood and looked at her, his
gaze falling to her hair, draped loosely over her shoulders, down to her pajama
bottoms and her feet, sticking out bare at the bottom. When his gaze returned
to hers, there was fire in his eyes.

Emma
recognized the look. Moving quickly around the kitchen island, she grabbed her
tea as she did so, and stood defensively off to the side. She held her cup of
tea in front of her in both hands, and looked at him cautiously over the rim.

“Emma,”
he said quietly, the fire in his eyes still burning as he moved around the
island and stood in front of her, close, but not touching.

She
closed her eyes. She honestly didn’t know if she could take any more of this.

“Emma,”
he said softly. “I’ll give you a divorce.”

Her
eyes flew open to meet his, which were still burning down into hers. She had a
moment of pure relief, followed by the most searing, horrible emotional pain
that she’d ever felt. She placed her tea, now forgotten, on the counter next to
her, and clenched her arms around her waist.

“Why?”
she managed to ask, kicking herself internally as she did so. She should be
just accepting and running away from this conversation to go pack her bags. Why
did it matter if he’d allow her to leave? But when she started to tell him that
she’d be gone in the morning, she found herself again asking, “Why?” She needed
to know. Needed to know if there was any hope here at all for her, or if she
should run as far and as fast as she could.

“Does
it matter?” he asked softly. “It’s what you wanted.”

“Yes.
It matters. Is it because of the codicil?”

“No.
You were right. This was never about the will, or the amended version.”

“Then
why?”

He
turned away, but not before Emma saw the same pain she felt, reflected in his
eyes. Reaching out, she grasped his arm and waited until he turned to face her.
“Why, Mason?”

He
sighed deeply. “Because if I don’t let you go now, I won’t be able to ever let
you go,” he admitted.

Dropping
her arm, Emma just stared at him, confusion all over her face, but a tiny spark
of hope igniting in her heart.

“I
don’t understand,” she said at last. “You...”

“What
is there to understand?” he asked, interrupting her with a harsh tone in his
voice. “Just take it and go.”

But
Emma had seen the emotion in his eyes, before he’d shuttered them. Before he’d
retreated behind his wall again.

“No,”
she said. Firmly this time. With no hesitation.

“Emma...”

“No.
Not just no, but hell no.” She stomped her bare foot in frustration. “Mason,
for God’s sake, talk to me. I need to know what you’re thinking and feeling,
because Lord knows I’ve never seen you feel real emotion before. But if you’re
feeling anything now, anything at all, you need to tell me. Or we might both
turn our backs on the best damn thing that ever happened to either of us. So
you tell me, Mason Parker, and don’t you dare lie. Why did you change your
mind, and why are you now in such a hurry to kick me out the door, when an hour
ago you were holding to three years?”

“Empty
years, Emma,” he said with bitterness.

She
looked at him as if he were crazy, but then her words to him kicked in, and she
realized what he was talking about. Gently, she reached out and stroked his
cheek with the back of her hand. “Not empty years, Mason,” she said softly.
“Empty marriage. The two are different. My last year with you hasn’t been
empty. It’s been...”

She
stopped, unsure how much she should reveal. This man could trample on her heart
so easily...

Mason
was looking at her intently.

She
sighed. “Mason. Please. Tell me why you changed your mind.”

His
face, usually so devoid of emotion, showed doubt and fear and anguish, and
Mason let her see it. He looked her in the eyes, reached up to smooth the hair
away from her face, and said quietly, “You deserve more than me.”

She
stood, in her bare feet and her pajamas, her hair loose around her face, and
waited for him to explain.

“Come,”
he said at last, his voice low and even, as he held out his hand for her. She
looked up at him, completely unsure what was happening, but wanting to know,
once and for all, what he was thinking. She placed her hand in his.

He
led her into his study, and over to his couch, gently drawing her down next to
him.

“Jen
was right,” he said quietly, looking her directly in the eye, still holding her
hand in his. “The only reason I entered into an agreement with her was for my
uncle’s stock. I liked Jen, and figured that we could survive for a few years
without killing each other. She’d get money, I’d get the stock, and we’d be
done. And we’d probably be fairly good friends, by the end of it. If she had
said no, I would have found another way to get it. But she said yes, and it
simply made my life easier.”

“But
that doesn’t make sense,” Emma said, shaking her head. “Why the contract?”

“Two
reasons. One, I was giving her a lot of money. I wanted the reason for it on
paper so if she reneged on the deal, I’d get it back, and so there’d be no
question, ever, as to why. Two, I wanted her to think twice about the
arrangement - and to back out before she signed on, if she was going to. Once I
put things in motion, I didn’t want her pulling out of it.”

“But
she did.”

“She
did.”

“So
why...”

“Didn’t
I just ask for the money back and let it go?”

“Yes.”

“You
showed up at my door.”

Emma
nodded, expecting him to elaborate with some story about needing revenge or
taking advantage of an opportunity, or...

But
Mason knew she hadn’t understood. “Emma, YOU showed up at my door.”

She
looked puzzled, and just shook her head slowly, her eyes still on his face.
“Mason, I don’t know what you mean.”

“I
took one look at you and knew I needed to have you. The contract was a perfect
excuse.”

Emma's
eyes narrowed and she pulled her hand back from his touch. Turning on the couch
to face him, she curled her feet up and wrapped her arms around her legs. She
glared over the top of her knees at him. “You didn’t think of just asking me
out?”

“No.”

She
looked at him, her eyes steadily holding his. “Why not?”

“I
don’t have a great track record with women, Emma.”

“Your
mother and sister would say that you date the wrong women.”

“I
didn’t want to take a chance that you’d say no. Or that I’d scare you away
within the first week.”

“Why
did you think you would do that?”

“You
said it often yourself - I don’t show emotion.”

She
sighed, resting her chin on her right kneecap. “Well, you’re right about that.
But...”

“Emma,
I needed time to show you who I am. And the only way I knew to do that was to
bring you into my home.”

She
sat silently, watching him carefully, digesting his words. She still didn’t
know what they meant for her future, but she knew that opening up about his
feelings was incredibly hard for him, and she would do whatever she could to
help, even if it meant that he was telling her goodbye. She loved him. She
could do no less. Telling herself to be careful, she sighed.

“OK.
I almost get that,” she said at last.

The
corner of his mouth curved up slightly in a rueful half-smile. “Yeah. I figured
you might.”

Knowing
that she might regret asking, but needing to know the truth, Emma said quietly,
“What I don’t get is why you slept with me. Once. And regretted it so
completely that it never even came close to happening again.”

She
watched as his eyes darkened, and his hand reached out to thread his fingers
into her hair, his thumb lightly stroking her cheek.

“That
was a mistake,” he said softly, curling his hand around her head to prevent her
from pulling away at his words. “No, Emma,” he continued, his thumb circling
round to her lower lip. “Not that kind of a mistake. I don’t regret making love
to you. I’ve thought of nothing else for months. I’ve wanted nothing else for
months.”

“Then
why?” she asked, her eyes filling.

He
moved his hand to gently brush the tears from her eyes. “Because I’m a moron.
Emma, I left in the night because I felt something I’d never felt before. With
anyone. I’ve had sex with other women before, Emma, but this was different. I
made love to you that night. And it was more intense, more amazing, more
phenomenal than anything I’d ever felt before. With anyone. I felt a
connection, Emma. And it scared the crap out of me.”

“So
why didn’t you just talk to me about it the next day?”

“Like
I said, I’m a moron. And I had no idea what to say to you. If I told you what I
was feeling, I was afraid you’d run the other way.”

Emma
sighed. “How about, ‘sorry for leaving, I’m a moron’?” she asked.

He
chuckled, his thumb gently tracing the contours of her cheekbone.

She
smiled slightly.

“Emma,
I still want you. I want you every day, every time I’m with you. I see you with
Chaos, or Max, or Malcolm or my mother, God help me, and I see this amazing
woman. A woman who deals with life as it comes, and enjoys it. A woman who
helps me be someone I want to be. And a woman that I promised I wouldn’t touch
again, unless I meant it. Emma, I mean it.”

She
closed her eyes then, feeling her tears trickle out and run down her cheek.
Mason reached over then and pulled her onto his lap, his hand tenderly wiping
the wetness away.

“Why
are you crying?” he asked softly.

“You’re
divorcing me,” she reminded him.

“No,”
Mason responded gently. “I’m offering to give you a divorce. There’s a
difference.”

Her
eyes flew open and locked on his.

His
look was intense as he cupped her cheek in his hand and spoke quietly but
firmly. “Listen to me, sweetheart. I do not want a divorce. If it were up to
me, I’d tear up the damn contract and start from scratch. I want to stay
married to you, Emma Jameson Parker. I want to have you in my bed every night.
I want to have children with you. I want to walk the dog with you every night.
I want to fight over who gets to have Max on our lap. I want to make sure that
Malcolm has the chance to be a vet, if that’s what he wants to be. I want to
eat your cooking, roll my eyes at the mess you make in the kitchen, and laugh
when my mother eats more of what you make than even I do.”