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“Mason has got you all kinds of fucked up,” JoJo hollered gleefully. “Oh my fucking God. I’m so happy that I don’t have to wear that ugly, boring beige bridesmaid’s dress at your stupid wedding anymore.”
“Hey, you said you liked it!”
“I can wear a purple tutu now,” she went on. “I can wear a see-through top! Hey, did you say whether Mason had brothers? Sisters? Emm, sisters with equally hot tattoos. Emm, sisters with mohawks like Mason’s. Emm, emm, sisters or brothers with—”
“JoJo!”
Great, now it was me shouting. I lowered my voice and continued, “The only reason I didn’t tell Mason about Tim was…was…”
Shit. I knew I’d made a mistake the second I started. But it was too late. I was in it. JoJo smiled smugly and waited. Let me hang on the rope I’d strung up myself.
“Dammit,” I hissed. “No. No. Stop it. Stop smiling like that. I don’t want Mason. I absolutely do not. The only reason I didn’t tell him about Tim was…was…fuck!”
“Was because you want to keep that door open,” JoJo said, wriggling around merrily on the floor, falling back to kick her rainbow-socked feet gleefully in the air. “Because you want to keep that sexy, hunky, tattooed, Irish door wide, wide, wide open!”
I tried my best to ignore JoJo and her little victory lap as I finished packing up all my clothes in my suitcase. It wasn’t as simple as my supposed best friend was making it out. There were hearts at stake. Emotions to protect. Mine. Mason’s. Tim’s. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. That was all.
Nothing had changed. I still wanted a divorce. I still wanted to get back to America. I still wanted to marry Tim. I still wanted to put Mason and Vegas and dancing and performing and the life I once lived and loved behind me. Firmly behind me. Nothing had changed.
Seeing Mason for the first time in years hadn’t changed that. Certainly not him with a woman’s ass against his cheek. And then later a woman’s lips against his. And then later still with a woman’s naked tits pressed up against his side.
Sure, he had a nice cock. No one was denying that. Sure, seeing it may have reminded me of a good lay or two. But that was no reason to throw away the perfect life. The safe life. The secure and quiet and easy life.
I’d been reminded of a good memory or two over the past day with Mason, but none of those were reasons to change anything either. They were like old stories. Old fairy tales. You don’t throw away something guaranteed for something make believe, now did you? You don’t risk a roof over your head for a pair of glass slippers that surely don’t fit anymore anyway. That would be stupid, now wouldn’t it? Naive. Reckless. Ridiculous. You don’t take a perfectly good this-will-do ever after and go chasing after happily. Because happily doesn’t exist. The Mason of my memories was not real. He was just something I imagined when I was lonely. When I needed to get off when Tim’s tongue wasn’t enough. That was it. That was it.
“Hello? Hello? Earth to Rachel!”
I was startled out of my thoughts by JoJo’s voice. My suitcase was packed. I was ready to leave. And yet I had been standing there. Frozen. Lost.
“Huh?” I stammered stupidly. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“So what are you going to do?” JoJo asked.
“Oh, um…” I shook my head and dragged my fingers through my hair. “Well, there’s no way I’m going to stick around waiting thirty days for Mason to sign the divorce papers. No way. That’s ridiculous. That’s stupid. I’m going to force him to sign sooner. That’s what I’m going to do. He wants a wife? Well, I’ll give him a wife. I’ll give him the worst, most horrible, most annoying and bitter and vengeful and terrible wife he’s ever seen. I’m going to make him rue the day he ever married me. The day he ever decided to stay married to me. I’m going to make his married life a living hell. He thinks he can last thirty days? Ha! With this Mrs Donovan, I give him a week. A week, tops. Then I’m going to hand him the papers he’s begging to sign. I’m going to get on a plane. And I’m going to marry Tim. That’s what I’m going to do.”
I was kind of out of breath after all that. Panting like a war general after a big speech to motivate the troops.
It was suddenly hot in the hotel room. I tugged at my shirt and fanned myself. All the while JoJo remained silent. Staring at me. The only sound came from the drumming of her fingers against the side of her wine glass.
“What?” I finally said, annoyed by her silence and unwavering look.
“I meant,” JoJo said slowly, “what are you going to do about your feelings for Mason? For your hubby dear? For Mr Donovan?”
I laughed, but it sounded strained even to my own ears. I was sure that JoJo picked up on it. She was a fucking bat when it came to that.
“Feelings?” I said, trying to sound casual and mostly failing. “What feelings?”
JoJo grinned and nodded. “Emhmm.”
I pointed a finger at her.
“Don’t ‘emhmm’ me,” I said.
She just replied with another, “Emhmm.”
“JoJo.”
“Emhmm. Emhmm. Emhmm.”
