The door across the hall opens, and I turn to see Aaron standing in the doorway, sympathy written all over his face.
My frantic knocking slowly fades as I take him in, rumpled and scruffy, hair sticking up, sweats hanging off his hips and a white T-shirt stretched across his chest. And my suitcase standing next to him in the entryway.
“He checked out early,” he says, his voice soft. “Said you’d be by later to get your things.”
My throat clogs as tears flood my eyes, and all I can manage to do is nod. Aaron holds the door open and gestures inside with his head. “Come in for a minute. We should talk.”
My lips tremble, tears falling as I shake my head. “I can’t,” I manage to whisper, and I reach for the handle of my suitcase. Aaron watches me yank it out of his room and down the hall. I don’t look back, but I don’t hear his door close, so I can only assume he watches me stumble back to my room.
Once inside and safely away from pitying looks, I slump onto the floor, bury my face in my hands and unleash the full tide of tears.
He left. And he didn’t even say goodbye.
I know I asked for space. But I didn’t think that meant we were over. I just wanted a few minutes to get my own shit together without someone railing at me about my bad decisions. First it was my mom ranting at me about working for a band and then “taking up with one of my bosses.” There was so much she was upset about, it was hard to unpack it all. The fact that I work for Mason and the implication that he’s taking advantage of me because of the “boss/employee” relationship. The college dropout thing. There was something about Blaire and her bad choices worked in there too, though I’d largely stopped listening by then. When I pointed out that while yes, it’s true that I’m the PA for all the band members, it’s not a typical boss/employee situation like she was trying to make it out, that Mason never pressured me into anything I didn’t want, and that I’m not with him because I’m afraid I’ll get fired if I turn him down, she dismissed all of that and just called our relationship “improper.”
Apparently we still live in Victorian England. Good to know, I guess.
And then to be faced with Mason’s anger and his misinterpretation of my half of the conversation that he obviously didn’t hear in anything resembling its entirety. I just couldn’t take it. I needed a minute so my head wouldn’t explode.
Actually, so my emotions wouldn’t explode.
I wanted to scream and rage at everyone, and I would’ve taken my frustration with my parents out on Mason, and that wouldn’t have been fair.
And now …
I don’t even know what this means. Are we broken up? Because I asked for space? Does space mean something different for him than it does for me?
Because I meant like an hour. I honestly thought he would seek me out last night.
When he didn’t, I decided it was for the best. A night apart would do us good. Give us both time to calm down, for cool heads to prevail.
But to wake up to him gone? Without a word?
My heart is breaking, and the various insults to his character that my mother lobbed last night echo in my head.
I push those thoughts aside. That’s not the Mason that I’ve come to know and love. He’s not a degenerate or a stereotypical rock star living this wasteful life of partying and drugs and drunkenness.
Sure, he likes to relax with some whisky after a show. And I know he’s had his flirtation with the lifestyle my mother so derides. But that’s not the Mason that’s with me. And he’s admitted that the time he spent living like that was when he was dealing with specific issues.
But if he’s decided that we’re over, is he going to go back to that?
If I stay with Cataclysm, is Marcus going to task me with babysitting him again to make sure he stays out of the tabloids?
Fuck me. It was hard enough watching him fuck his way through squadrons of groupies and get blown in public while he partied when I could barely stand him.
How much worse would that be now?
Maybe I should take this interview my mom set up for me. Because if Mason’s done with me, I don’t know if I can handle working for Cataclysm anymore.
Chapter Forty-One
Mason
I flinch at the loud banging on my door, but resolutely take another gulp straight from the bottle of tequila I picked up on the way to my condo. I’m not answering the door. If it’s not Viola, I don’t want to talk to anyone. And I know it’s not Viola. For one thing, that’s not what her knock sounds like. And for another, I left this morning without a word. She wanted space, so I’m giving her all the space in the world. She doesn’t want to see me, so I’m letting her go. Letting her off the hook. Removing myself from the situation and making her life easier.
But the sound of a fist hammering on the door makes me flinch again. This asshole’s not gonna stop until I answer the fucking door. Dragging myself from the couch, bottle clenched in one hand, I stumble across the room to look through the peephole.
It’s Aaron.
Because of course it is.
Sighing heavily, I yank the door open. “What?” I bark, hoping my surly, tequila-soaked routine will drive him away.
I didn’t even need to be drunk and surly to drive Viola away. But Aaron’s been around for longer. He’ll take more effort to get rid of.
Though my parents sloughed off pretty easily, so I guess length of acquaintance doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with it.
Aaron looks me up and down, disgust curling his lip. “Day drinking already?”
I shrug and gesture him
