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“It was. To eight-year-old me? It was the most magical thing in the world, and I wanted one so badly I could hardly think straight some days. Imagine the sleepovers I could’ve hosted with that in my room.” He almost smiled as he said it, but then the light left his eyes. “Not that my parents ever let me have sleepovers anyway. But I thought maybe, with that bed...I don’t know. Little kid logic.”
“Why couldn’t you have sleepovers?”
“Because Nate always had friends over, and they didn’t want to deal with that many kids at once.” Not even a trace of emotion colored the words. “Or at least that was the reason they always gave me.”
“Nate is your little brother?” she guessed.
He nodded, but didn’t speak for a long time. “Jonathan convinced me to find a therapist shortly after we founded our company. My therapist was the one who told me my mother has a narcissistic personality disorder. It explains why she felt entitled to anything and everything she ever wanted, and pitched a fit when things didn’t go her way. Why she was always the victim, even when she was so obviously at fault. And Nate...he was her perfect golden child. The boy who could do no wrong, who deserved everything he ever wanted. My dad and I were the scapegoats.”
“Like in The Good Place,” Addison said, her heart going out to him, “with Jameela Jamil’s character and her little sister.”
“I love that show,” Mason said, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his hand. “Well, once I got to the end of the first season anyway. Zach harassed me for months until I finally binge watched it, and after the season finale, I was hooked.” He sighed. “And yes, very much like that. But unlike Tahani, I found an exceptional therapist and eventually went no-contact with my family.”
Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. “That must’ve been so hard.”
“The hardest part was letting go of how desperately I wanted everyone to apologize.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “My mom for obvious reasons. My dad for watching it happen and never saying a word. Nate for not sitting up one day and going wait, this is total bullshit, I’ve done nothing to deserve being put up on this pedestal, and he’s done nothing to deserve being treated like shit.” His mouth formed a grim line. “But there’s no point in torturing myself while I wait for something that’s never going to happen.”
For the first time since entering the room, she wished they were in the same bed. She desperately wanted to hold him close—to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.
“I suppose my old therapist would say my need for control and aversion to change are coping mechanisms or trauma responses or some such thing.” He sighed. “Probably true.”
After a while, she said, “I guess you didn’t get the bunk bed for Christmas, then.”
“No. Nate did.”
She sat up so fast she scraped her forehead against the ceiling. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope,” he said, enunciating the p with a sarcastic popping sound. “I’ll never forget what my mom said to me when she saw how disappointed I was. Every word is burned into my brain. Don’t be selfish, Mason. You know he needs it more than you. He’s so popular, and you don’t even have any friends. Even though she knew I did. It was her fault they never came to our house.”
“Tell me where she is,” Addison demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “I swear to Jesus Himself, I’ll punch her in the throat for you.”
His answering chuckle was like a balm to her raging emotions. “I appreciate it, but don’t bother. It won’t change anything, and my therapist taught me how important it is to look forward, not backward.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” she said, cringing, “but what did you get for Christmas that year?”
“An N64 I never even got to play, because it ended up in Nate’s room, and some clothes.”
“Well.” She tried to adopt a jaunty sort of tone, with moderate success. “If my trial period is extended and I’m still here at Christmas, I promise to give you something special.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she marveled at the fact she thought to say them at all. Never once had she planned to stay at Fairford Manor. From the beginning, it was always go for three months, cash out, and figure out her new life back in the city.
So why did her imagination flash images through her mind of what the Manor would look like all done up for the holidays?
Why did the idea that she probably wouldn’t be there to follow through on her promise make her eyes burn?
“We should get some sleep,” Mason said, settling back down on his mattress and pulling his comforter halfway up his torso. “We’ve got another early start tomorrow. But thank you. For listening. It really means a lot to me.”
“I’m here anytime you need to talk,” she said, once again wondering after the fact why her mouth was making promises the rest of her wouldn’t be able to keep.
Even more than that, she wondered why she suddenly wanted to keep all those promises, no matter the cost.
Addison clung to the handle on the BMW’s passenger side door. “Unlock the car.”
“No.” His voice held no trace of anger or dominance. It was just a simple statement of fact.
“Goddamnit, Mason, don’t fuck with me right now.”
His brows lifted ever so slightly. “We just spent three full days driving across the country. We didn’t do that to get to the parking lot and turn around.”
