Mason looks up from his phone. ‘Yeah.’
My only stipulation for this trip was that I absolutely refused to go back to the hotel where Valerie works. Actually, I had two stipulations – different hotel, only two of us in the bed at any time. Mason was happy enough to comply. We have, as is Mason’s way, had a lot of sex – but maybe not quite as much as we did last time. These past few months have made me realise that it’s never going to be the missionary position every night with Mason. He definitely likes his love on the edgy side – which is, on occasions, exhausting. Maybe TMI, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of vanilla every now and again – especially when I’ve got to get up for work the next day. However, it’s nice that he’s keen and there’s no doubt that he’s a good lover.
A text comes in and it’s Charlie telling me that they’ve just arrived. They came over on the ferry by coach, whereas we took the Eurostar. We organise to meet for a drink before the concert and I can’t wait to see my friend. ‘Charlie and Nice Paul are here,’ I tell Mason.
He looks up from his phone again. ‘Cool.’
Mason and I arrived yesterday and, unlike our other trip which was a bit of a washout, I’ve already managed to cajole him into doing some sightseeing. I’ve fallen in love with Paris. We went to the Louvre which was fantastic even though I’m not much of an art lover and we queued for France to get in. It’s true that the Mona Lisa is much smaller than you think and it’s shielded by bulletproof glass, but it’s amazing and I’m glad that I know these things from personal experience.
After lunch at a little bistro, we went up the Eiffel Tower – which also took for ever and was crowded beyond belief. Despite my fear of heights, the view from over a thousand feet above the city was spectacular and well worth the effort. Mason wrapped his arms round me as we stood admiring the city and I felt the kind of contentment that I hadn’t in a long time. Perhaps I can be happy with him.
‘What are you smiling at?’ He throws his phone on the bed and comes over to join me on the balcony, snaking his arms round my waist and pulling me close.
‘I’m having a really great time,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you for bringing me back.’
‘Only the best for you,’ he says and nuzzles my neck. ‘Shall we go and do some damage to a decent red, then take a bateau trip? We didn’t manage it before.’
‘That sounds like a very relaxing way to spend an afternoon and I want to conserve my energy for the concert tonight.’
So we head out and do just that. We hold hands and kiss as we go along the street, like a couple in love. I look over at Mason, well-groomed, as always, in his designer T-shirt and jeans and I feel a rush of affection for him. I feel as if I’m finally starting to see more and more of the real Mason Soames rather than the face that he puts on for the world and I very much like what I see.
Lunch is a croque-monsieur and a bottle of Chateau la Croix something or another, enjoyed outside at a pavement café. We chat, laugh, drink too much. Then we walk down to the River Seine, hop on board a Bateau-Mouche boat and find a place on the open-air viewing deck. We drift down the river, passing Notre Dame Cathedral and La Conciergerie, the distinctive glass pyramid of the Louvre and more views of the Eiffel Tower. Mason throws his arm round my shoulder and laughs at the amount of photographs I take on my phone.
‘Selfie,’ I say.
‘Another?’
‘When I’m old and grey, I want to look back at these and remember that I’ve been here.’
He strokes my face. ‘It’s nice to see Paris through your eyes, Brown. It’s like seeing it through the eyes of a five-year-old.’
‘I take it that’s a compliment?’
‘Yeah.’ He laughs. ‘Let’s travel the world together and take selfies at all the best spots.’
I snuggle in next to him, my heart light. ‘Let’s do that.’
Chapter Ninety-Two
Too soon, it’s time to go back to the hotel and get ready for the concert – but that’s exciting too. I’ve never been to see a band abroad before, so I can chalk up another first. It feels like a very sophisticated thing to do. I can now drop, casually, into conversations, ‘Oh, when I saw Gary in Paris … ’
Life with Mason certainly isn’t short on excitement.
I have a shower first. If Mason and I go in together, we’ll never get out tonight and there’ll be two empty seats in the VIP rows. I let the water wash away the dust of the day and then, wrapping myself in one of the hotel’s fluffy towels, go back into the bedroom. ‘Your turn,’ I say to Mason.
He throws his phone down. ‘Do you want to send for some tea before we go out?’
‘No. I’m fine. We’ll be hooking up with Charlie soon. I’ll probably just hit the wine again.’
Mason slaps my bottom playfully as he passes. ‘My kind of woman.’
So I towel myself down and smile as I listen to Mason whistling tunelessly in the shower. He sounds happy too and I really think that we can make a good go of this relationship.
Charlie gave me one of the tour T-shirts as a present and I’m thrilled to put it on tonight. If I’m going to shake the hand of The Barlow, I want to look not only as hot as I possibly can, but like a total fangirl. I get a flutter of nerves in my tummy.
Then Mason’s phone pings on the bed and, without thinking, I pick it up and glance at the text that comes in.
I’ll be waiting. V xx it says. My stomach drops.
I glance towards the bathroom, but Mason’s whistling tells me that he’s still in the shower and oblivious to the incoming text. I notice that my fingers are trembling as I scroll back through the previous messages. Clearly these are intimate texts. Ones that weren’t intended for my eyes.
Mason to V. I’m in town, babe. Available?
Always for you. Where r u? Shall I come over? V xx
Mason to V. Valerie. It has to be.
He’s tapped in our hotel name. Here with a friend. A friend? Is that how Mason sees me? Nothing more than that?
You or both tonight? V xx
Me. She’s not interested in fun.
Good. I get to have you all to myself. When? V xx
I flick through them feeling both sick and guilty at the same time. All the time that I thought we were having a lovely romantic weekend and Mason has been texting another woman. And not just any other woman. It has to be Valerie. The one we shared a threesome with. And, for the record, I am interested in bloody fun, but the kind of ‘fun’ that only involves one other person.
Guiltily, I carry on scrolling. Though, if we analyse this, I’m not the one who should be feeling guilty. Supposed to be seeing Take That.
Afterwards? V xx
The sooner the better. I’ll find some excuse not to go & come over to hotel. Same room as usual?