Page 18 of A Diagnosis Dark & Deadly

Chapter9

Olivia ledhim into her house, closing and locking the door behindthem.

“Dishes and plates are in the cupboards,” she said, indicating towards the kitchen. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be out soon.” She wasn’t even looking athim.

“You know,” he called after her as she disappeared down the hall, “this is wasting my time withyou.”

“It surprises me that you care,” she called back before shutting thedoor.

Mason was a little taken aback by her comment. She really didn’t think he cared about her? Well, maybe it was difficult to believe. It wasn’t as though he was shouting from the rooftops that he actually liked Olivia in a certain way. They even decided to keep whatever this relationship was a secret. But he knew what she meant. Mason was a very upfront, direct person. He said what he meant, and meant what he said. He could understand how people interpreted his behavior not caring. And he really didn’t care what people thought about him. Not his boss, not his friend, and especially not the people he worked with on a day-to-day basis.

But he did care about her. That didn’t mean that he was going to change who he was, but it did mean that he would feel slightly guilty if he hurt her in any way. And right now, even though she hadn’t said anything, he knew that he had somehow hurt her. Because in some twisted way, Olivia was much like Mason in the fact that instead of revealing their feelings, they got defensive.

He sighed as he began to grab plates from the cupboard over the sink, and putting the Chinese food on them. Whenever his team had lots of paperwork to finish, they would always stay at the hospital later and order Chinese food. There were even times, surprisingly, that Mason would join them. Not that he would do much, of course, but his presence was appreciated. It wasn’t like he had anything to go home to anyway. He was forty-four years old, for goodness’ sake, without a wife, without children, and without a family. This never used to bother Mason; he got on by just fine, and his own company was normally enough, but once he reached his forties, he actually began to feel… lonely. He wondered if he would ever be able to settle down, if he would ever even have the opportunity. And kids… he had always wanted a couple of kids, maybe one or two, but he heard his biological clock ticking and began to think that he may never get the chance.

Of course, it wasn’t as though he was planning a future with Olivia or anything, but the last actual relationship he had was back in his early thirties and lasted for three years. He had loved her, was even intent on marrying her, but she began to grow tired of his late nights at the hospital and wouldn’t put up with his attitude when things were getting stressful. He didn’t blame her. It would seem that since then, his longest relationship with a woman was with Olivia. She had been with him three years now. Erin had only lasted two, and he tried to avoid interacting with Carmen by all means necessary. Olivia had stayed with him, for better or worse.

He shook his head, vowing to never use that euphemism for a very longtime.

When he was finished, he set the plates on the coffee table and then headed back into the kitchen. Would she be bothered if he grabbed some sort of soft drink or a beer or something to drink? He didn’t think so… but when he opened the door to her refrigerator, he found nothing but a couple of Fiji water bottles, cranberry juice, orange juice, and a carton of 2% milk.

“I don’t really drink soda,” she said from behind him, giving him a start.

He turned, looking down at her. Her hair was damp with soft waves, and her body was concealed only by a red satin robe that went just past her knees.

“I don’t see any alcohol in here either,” he told her, closing the door and cocking his head to the side. “What step are you onnow?”

She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest, just deepening her cleavage. “I don’t like carbonation,” she told him. “I never have. Ergo, no beer and nosoda.”

“What about strong alcoholic beverages?” he asked, leaning his tall frame on the refrigerator behindhim.

“I don’t drink,” she replied nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders. “Never acquired the taste for it. Although, on rare occasions I’ll order a glass ofwine.”

She took a step forward and gave him a sideways glance. He stepped away from the door and she opened the refrigerator. “You know your options,” she said, grabbing a bottle of water. “What do you want to drink?”

“I guess I’ll have the cranberry juice,” he told her, and she grabbed the carton of juice aswell.

“On the rocks?” she teased and smiled an amused smile she had at herwit.

Mason rolled his blue eyes but couldn’t help but smile as well. “You are so corny,” he told her and took the bottle from her so that he could pour his own drink.

Once the two were situated, they headed back to the living room and each took a seat on the couch. Olivia was actually glad Mason had brought some sort of food because after she played soccer, she was always incredibly hungry but too tired to actually cook anything. Normally she would have a bowl of cereal or something as light, but Chinese food sounded good, and tastedgood.

“So,” Mason said after finishing a rather large bite of sweet and sour pork. “I didn’t know you played soccer.”

“You don’t know a lot of things about me,” she informed him, and then took a long sip of her water.

“I don’t know anything about you,” he told her, watching her eat a rather big bite of broccoli. “I mean, I’m starting to know how your body responds to me, and I can tell how you’re feeling by the expression on your face, but I don’t knowyou.”

“I like that you don’t know about me,” she told him, giving him a sideways glance. “You know everything about everybody. I like being… different.” She smiled at her sentiment and turned her attention back to herfood.

“I know you’re different,” Mason scoffed, “but I would like to know about the person I am sleepingwith.”

Olivia stopped eating and set her plate on the coffee table. She leaned back into the couch and twisted her body so her torso was facing him. She seemed to be thinking about something.

“What are we?” she finally asked him, cocking her head to the side and looking him imploringly. Her expression was serious, her eyes losing all sparkles of amusement.

Mason was about to answer quite easily, but cut himself short. What were they, exactly? They were obviously colleagues, but he knew that wasn’t the relationship they were talking about. And friends seemed too general, too vague… too safe. They were obviously lovers, but while they shared an intimate connection, they really didn’t know anything about each other except for what Mason had already expressed. And they had already declared they wouldn’t use the term boyfriend or girlfriend while friends-with-benefits sounded too distant.