“Tell me what happened next,” Mason said, as if purposely trying to detour her self-deprecating thoughts that were probably written across her face.
“I made him something to eat.”
“Did he say anything to upset you?”
“No, of course not. He was perfectly polite.”
“So you weren’t upset at all?”
“Why are you asking this?”
“I just imagine that it was a little difficult for you to have an unexpected visitor suddenly come to the house and then to have him inform you he was a friend of mine, a friend you never heard me speak of. Was it?”
She didn’t answer. It hurt that Mason rarely spoke to her about his friendships from that part of his life. At the same time she feared he hadn’t omitted Sean’s presence in his past so much as her own crap overshadowed the moments for such little anecdotes. Five years seemed like an eternity, but it was amazing how many things could still go unattended when things were far from perfect. She’d do better from now on.
“Liberty, look at me.”
Slowly she raised her gaze. He didn’t appear angry, only concerned.
“Baby, don’t hide from me. Remember what happens when you do? We’re past that stage. Now, do you want to tell me what upset you?”
Her resolution to be a better wife took a backseat as she played back that afternoon’s moments of weakness. Words jumbled in her throat. She wanted to let them out, but her brain refused to tell her muscles to move. Mason waited patiently for her to find the strength. “He sat in your seat.”
“Is that all?”
God, she was a horrible person. “His plate,” she whispered.
“What about it?”
“There was mustard on it.”
“Oh, honey, you know you cannot let yourself get upset about that kind of stuff.”
“I know.” He was right and she was disgusted with herself.
It had been over a year since she let something so minor upset her. Mason ate every day and she tolerated his entitlement to do so without the rules she placed upon herself and her own precise approach to dining. Years ago, watching others eat without any form of order would have tied her stomach in knots. She’d gotten past that. It was impossible to live with another person and worry about such nonsense, but sometimes, around new people, it still bothered her. Obsessing over such things gave her the same agonizing constriction in her stomach and throat she got when unsuccessfully trying to thread a needle.
Mason began to softly massage her toes through the covers. “We have no control over what others do, remember? Only when someone is hurting someone else can we tell them to change what they’re doing. The only thing you can do in a situation that’s making you uncomfortable, where no one is being harmed and it would be wrong for you to interfere, is walk away. Liberty, you cannot wash away other’s imperfections any more than you can wash away your own.”
She blinked. A tear fell to her lap, the tiny drop making a dark circle on her otherwise flawless nightclothes. “I know.”
“If you think this will be a problem while Sean is staying here, I will either ask him to leave or have the hot water heater adjusted again.”
She looked at him and quickly said, “No. I’ll behave better. I promise. If the water isn’t hot I won’t be able to clean the counters and the floors the way they should be done.”
“Okay, but you have to give me your word that you won’t burn yourself. If you’re bothered, walk away. If that doesn’t help, come find me, go to the piano room, or take a swim, but you aren’t to harm yourself. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I promise. Are you disappointed?”
“No. We all make mistakes, Lib. I know you’re already upset with yourself. It’s over now, though. Do you understand?” He gave her a pointed look. “Over. I’m not upset and there is no reason to feel guilty or to beat yourself up over it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I am.”
“Now, are you okay with Sean being here?”
“Will he stay for thirteen days?”
He laughed and then gave a comical sigh. “Ah, Libby, you do have a reason for everything, don’t you? Is that thirteen days for the thirteen years since he and I last saw each other?”
She tilted up her chin and took great pleasure in informing him that he was wrong. “No, that would be silly.”
“Then why thirteen?”
“Because he arrived on a Sunday and it’s now late and already Monday, a proper visit should be two weeks, but day one is over.”
“And who says a proper visit should be two weeks, might I ask?”
She rolled her eyes at him. Taking on an air of hauteur she crossed her arms over her chest and informed him, “All sophisticated people know a proper visit is two weeks. I can’t help it if you don’t know these things.”