Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

My email pings.

Julian Masters

Requests the company of

Bree Johnston

Occasion: Conversation.

Date: 31st September

Time: 7 PM

Place: Room 612: Rosewood London

Dress code: Ears

Dear God, he wants to talk.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I raise my hand to knock on the door, hesitating and closing my eyes.

I’m so nervous, I feel sick. I have no idea what today is about. Because it’s here at our hotel, I’m hoping it may be about us on a personal level, but I’m well aware that he may just want to fire me without the children overhearing.

But it is our Thursday, and it is 7:00 p.m.

I have hope.

I drop my shoulders, exhale, and I knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

The door opens and there he stands, dressed in a navy suit. He towers over me as his big brown eyes hold mine.

“Hello,” he says softly. “Thanks for coming.”

He gestures to the room and I walk past him to step inside.

My heart beats like crazy.

Being this close to him and the smell of his aftershave brings back so many memories. I can already feel the lump in my throat beginning to close over.

Don’t cry.

Don’t beg.

I wring my hands in front of me as his eyes hold mine. “How are you?” he asks.

I nod, unable to speak properly. “I’m okay,” I whisper in a barely there voice.

He runs his hand through his hair, his pause creating tension.

“Thank you for staying for the children.” His eyes drop to the carpet. “It would have been easier for you to leave.”

“I couldn’t leave them.”

His eyes rise to meet mine. “But you left me.” “I had to.”