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Elsa shakes her head.
“No, she has rheumatoid arthritis, but it works great for her too, so why not give it a try? Again, it’s just teeny-tiny bits of organic matter, so it’s not going to do any harm.”
I can already tell that arguing with Elsa isn’t going to get me anywhere. My mom just doesn’t want to listen, and seems to be coasting on a high right now. When people are like this, it’s impossible to talk them down. I just hope the crash later isn’t too awful.
I sigh, while rummaging around in the bookcase next to the kitchen table.
“Well, just reach out if something seems off, okay? Mason has a doctor on call, and I’m sure he’d be more than happy to summon him for you.”
Elsa scrunches her nose.
“It’s Dr. Wiley, right? The guy with the bald head and constantly sniffly nose? I’ve seen him before,” she says with a wave of her hand. “He’s useless. I think he has a medical degree from some school in the Caribbean.”
I merely tuck my journal under my arm while making my way to the front door.
“No, I think Dr. Wiley’s a real doctor with a degree from an American medical school. But the important part is that heisa medical doctor, and that he’s available if you want to see him. Just let us know. Bye Mom. Don’t be a stranger okay?”
With that, my mom waves as I shut the door behind me, standing for a moment on the porch. Goodness, that was more drama than I anticipated. Even more, we didn’t even get into the elephant in the room, which is that I’m sleeping with our landlord to pay for our room and board. Still, this whole situation is so weird that I don’t want to think about it. As a result, I put it out of my mind with determination, and step into the garden once more before heading to the big house for another round of laughter, fun, and love.
8
CHELSEA
Today’s, Mason’s whisked me off to a big box baby store because he insists that there are more things that my child needs.
“Oh no,” I demurred at first. “I’ve already picked out so much stuff.”
The handsome man merely frowned while ushering me into the car.
“Well, he needs more,” my man said in a firm tone. “We’re going to spoil this child rotten.”
Now, we’re inside a boutique where everything appears to cost an arm and a leg. Yet, Mason doesn’t seem to care at all.
“Go crazy, honey,” he growls, blue eyes flashing. “I want you to be happy.”
As a result, I browse a little, looking around while fingering assorted clothes and toys.
“These are cute, right?” I coo while holding a pair of blue overalls with a brown bear sewn into the center.
Mason holds up a pair of brown booties. “Yep, and these shoes would go well with them.”
I giggle while adding the items to our cart. Then, Mason pushes the basket over toward another clothing table, but even as he squeezes my fingers gently, my mind goes back to the conversation we had earlier this week at lunch. Ugh. That was a somewhat scary conversation, but I’m glad we had it. Still, I’m not convinced the issue’s over and done with.
Taking a big breath, I look around to make sure no one’s near us. Sure enough, the coast is clear, so I turn towards my man with a smile.
“I know it probably isn’t the right time to bring this up again,” I murmur once he looks down at me. “But I guess … well, you’ve been a little reserved since you found out that I used to work as an escort. I know you said you’re okay with it, but are you really? Or does it actually bother you?”
I try to sound casual, but on the inside, my stomach feels like wobbly jelly. I want this man to accept me, but also recognize that there’s nothing I can do one way or another.
Mason seems unsurprised at the question and chews his lip. Then, he clears his throat and shrugs those broad shoulders.
“I won’t lie, Chelsea. At first, I was startled by the revelation. After all, I figured you had a job, but I never thought it was that. So yeah, I was astonished and needed some time. But then, I had to take a step back and question myself. After all, who am I to judge a woman for making a living? Especially since I came up with a crazy hare-brained scheme just to get my hands on your sassy body. So it would be hypocritical for me to judge you, not to mention unseemly,” he growls.
I nod slowly.
“That’s true. Our current living situation isn’t exactly quote-unquote ‘normal.’”
Mason nods.
