Mr Masters: Chapter 26

I sit in the police station waiting room feeling nauseous. A sense of dread hangs over me like a storm cloud.

I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I’m supposed to be the adult here. What a stupid mistake to make.

Why did I go inside that club? And why did Willow follow me? I would never have gone in there if I’d thought for one moment that she was going to come after me.

This is one big fucking nightmare. The door opens and Julian comes into sight. His eyes find mine across the room and he glares at me.

My stomach sinks. God.

“Hello, I’m here to collect my daughter, Willow Masters,” he announces.

“Ah, yes,” the policeman answers over the reception desk. His eyes rise up to Julian. “Judge Masters. This is unexpected.”

Julian glares at the policeman and I slump farther into my seat. Fuck, the policeman knows who he is.

“Has she been charged with anything?” Julian asks.

“No, but she was found underage in a gay nightclub. It’s mandatory that she be brought back here until a parent can collect her. You can sign her out now and take her home.”

Julian’s jaw clenches. “I see.” His angry eyes flick to mine and I sink into my seat again.

Fuck.

I twist my hands together in front of me.

He signs the paperwork in silence and the policeman disappears.

I peer up to see Julian is staring at me with his two hands tucked in his suit pockets, his face stony.

I stand and walk out the front door. I’m just going to wait outside for them both. It’s dark, cold, quiet, and I stare at the pavement beneath my feet.

The door opens and Julian strides to the car. “This way,” he barks.

He opens the passenger door and I hang back. “Willow can sit in the front.”

“It’s you I want to speak to,” he says as his cold eyes hold mine.

“Thought you might.” I swallow the lump in my throat, and Willow and I exchange glances.

I slide into the seat and gently close the door. Willow climbs into the backseat of the SUV.

He pulls out into the traffic and his furious eyes flick over to me. “What the fuck, Brielle?” he shouts at the top of his voice as he hits the steering wheel with his open hand.

I jump in fright at the bang as his hand connects and my eyes instantly fill with tears. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head.

“This isn’t her fault,” Willow cries. “I followed her in. She didn’t know I was coming behind her.”

His eyes find his daughter’s in the rearview mirror. “I thought you were going to the movies? What happened to the fucking movies, Willow?” he yells.

“Don’t you swear at her!” I cry.

His furious eyes come back to me. “I will speak to my daughter, however, the fuck I want.’ He sneers.

Oh God, I’ve never seen him this angry. We drive in silence for a little while.

“What in the hell were you two doing in a gay bar?”

I close my eyes. Dear god.

“We were looking for Lola,” Willow tells him softly.

Julian frowns and his eyes rise to the mirror, back to his daughter. “Why would Lola be there?”

I drop my head.

“Because she’s gay,” Willow answers.

I roll my lips.

Julian’s confused eyes turn to me, but I stay looking down at my hands in my lap. “Did you know this?”

I stay silent.

“Brielle!” he bellows. “Did you know this?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Why are you hanging out with a gay eighteen-year-old, Willow?” His concentration flickers between the road and the rearview mirror.

“Because I think I’m gay, too.”

I squeeze my eyes closed.

He hits the steering wheel with force. “You are not gay! You are fucking sixteen,” he shouts.

Tears fill my eyes as I hear the hurt in his voice.

He looks at me again. “Did you know about this?”

I stare at him through tears.

“Did you… know?” he growls.

I nod.

He punches the steering wheel again. “You are not gay, Will. You are a child. You’re just confused!” He turns his attention back to me. “How dare you not tell me this!”

I close my eyes, wishing this was over.

“Don’t you blame her. She’s the only one who supports me,” Willow cries.

“I am your father!”

Tears roll down my face and I wipe them away as discreetly as I can.

“So, let me get this straight. My daughter confides in you with some ridiculous pubescent revelation, and you decide the best way to handle it is to lie to me and take her to a gay nightclub.”

I shake my head quickly. “It wasn’t like that.”

“That’s exactly how it is,” he screams like a madman.

“We weren’t even going there, Dad. It was just near the car and I wanted to see if Lola was in there. Brielle went in to find her for me. I was supposed to wait in the car, but the doorman left, so I snuck in,” Willow blurts out. The stress begins to get to her and she starts to cry.

Julian grips the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, and his eyes fill with tears.

Oh, he’s hurt.

‘Julian,’ I whisper.

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

Willow begins to sob in the backseat.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell you,” I whisper.

“She’s not. Your. Daughter.” He hits the wheel again. “Get it through your thick head. She will never be your daughter.”

I watch him as we drive in complete silence. Sadness hits me like a freight train.

“You’re right,” I whisper. “She’s not.”

I stare through the front windscreen with my heart in my throat. Willow’s soft sobs can be heard through the car.

What am I doing here?

This isn’t my family, and no matter how much I love them, I will always be an outsider.

He was right. We are on different paths.

Love just isn’t enough. I can’t change what I want and he can’t change what he doesn’t want. This is never going to work.

The tears roll down my face as we pull into the driveway.

Willow gets out of the car and slams the door. She disappears into the house and starts up the stairs before either of us can chase her.

“Willow,” Julian calls. She stops and turns on the step to look down at him. “You are not gay. You are confused.”

“Let her work this out for herself. Don’t judge her,” I say quietly.

“What?” He turns on me sharply. “What did you just say?”

“I said don’t judge her!” I cry, the last of my patience fading away. “This is not a decision you can make for her. She is not a criminal in your courthouse open for judgement.” I shake my head, disgusted with him. “She’s a young girl going through a very confusing time and she needs your goddamn support.”

He glares at me, contempt oozing from his every pore. “When she’s eighteen we’ll talk about it, and not a moment before.”

My face falls. “She needs to talk to you about it now.”

“What she needs is guidance from an adult who knows what they’re fucking doing. She is too young to think about this right now. She doesn’t need to label herself.”

Our eyes are locked and his chest is rising as he struggles to remain in control.

“She should still be at fucking school, but I let you talk me into letting her leave when I knew it was wrong.” He shakes his head, throwing his keys onto the sideboard. “You have no fucking idea what you’re doing when it comes to parenting.”

Something breaks inside of me.

I know what I have to do.

“Don’t you talk to her like that. She’s a much better parent to me than you are. I hate you!” Willow cries angrily.

Julian’s face falls.

I look up to Will. “Don’t speak to your father like that, Will. Go to bed. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Where are you going?” Will whispers in a panic.

Julian’s eyes come back to mine.

“I’ll still be your nanny, but I have to move out.”

Julian lifts his chin defiantly.

“I’ll work business hours to mind the children, but I won’t be living here anymore.”

Julian clenches his jaw in anger and points at me. “You leave me now and that’s fucking it. We’re done.”

The lump in my throat hurts as I try to hold it in. ‘We were done long before we started, Julian,’ I whisper through tears.

His eyes hold mine.

I turn and walk to my bedroom.

“Brielle,” he yells, and Willow cries as she runs up the stairs. “Brielle, get back here right now!”

Once inside, I lock my bedroom door and slide down the back of it to sit on the floor. I hear a glass smash as he completely loses his temper in the kitchen. All I can do is drop my face into my hands and cry.

I just need to be gone.

I zip my suitcase up slowly, and I look around my empty room. Five months of memories are coming to an end. I remember arriving and how excited I was to start my new adventure. It seems like a lifetime ago now. I get a vision of Julian sneaking into my room every night and the beautiful moments we shared… the love that he made me feel.

It hurts that this is how this story ends.

Not all love stories have happy endings.

I’ve cried all night but I know this is right. I’ve known it since I opened that letter from the doctor.

I hear the beep of a horn outside, telling me my Uber has arrived. I’ve booked a hotel. In a cruel twist of fate, Emerson has had to go home this week, rather unexpectedly.

I’m all alone. If it wasn’t for the children I would be on the first plane back to Australia as well but I can’t leave Willow yet. I feel like she needs me now more than ever. At least for a short while. I just need to get through this weekend.

I pull my heavy case down the hall and find Julian sitting at the dining table.

His haunted eyes hold mine.

Don’t look at me like that.

He stands abruptly. “Don’t leave me,” he says quietly.

I cup his face in my hands. “I have to.”

He shakes his head. “We can work this out.”

“No, baby, we can’t.” I kiss him softly on the lips. “I want you to be happy.”

He puts his arms around me. “You make me happy.”

“I don’t. I make you feel obligated. Confused. Guilty. That’s not happy.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, and I know he knows I’m right.

“What am I going to do without you?” he whispers as he dusts the backs of his fingers down my face.

My eyes hold his. “Keep living with Alina’s ghost and go back to your prostitutes. You’re safe there.”

He closes his eyes, and I take the opportunity to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you,” I whisper.

His face creases against mine. Eventually, I pull out of his arms and drag my suitcase through the front door to the car. The driver gets out and puts it in the trunk.

I get into the car and stare out of the window.

Julian doesn’t come out to say goodbye. I look up and see Willow at her window watching me leave. I give her a small wave, and I try my hardest to hold it together.

The driver gets into the car. “Where will it be, Miss?”

Straight to Hell?

Oh, wait. I’m already there.

Roses are red, Violets are blue.

I’m in love with a broken man,

And there’s nothing I can do.

They say everything has a reason, a lesson to learn.

Haven’t I had enough fucking lessons? Haven’t I had enough emotionally damaged men in my life already? When am I going to be someone’s lesson? When will someone love me more than people from their past?

And what can I possibly learn from feeling this much pain?

It’s complete bullshit.

I stare at the hotel room’s wall from my position on the uncomfortable bed. I haven’t got out of it since I arrived yesterday.

It’s been the longest twenty-four hours of my life.

I’m broken—so broken. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I wish I couldn’t feel.

A week ago, I had a home, children to take care of, and naughty pets that chewed stuff up. I had a man who worshipped the ground that I walked on, but it was all some kind of optical illusion. They were never really mine.

They were borrowed…

From Alina.

She still controls him from her grave. He still lives in the dark shadow she cast.

He always will.

I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing by sticking around, and I’m dreading going back to the house tomorrow morning. I just know that I couldn’t leave Will and Sam at this stage—not with a clear conscience. I need to prepare them for my final absence. I need to prepare myself to live without them.

I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. My chest physically hurts at the thought of not seeing them again.

Ever.

More tears roll down my face. I don’t even try to wipe them away anymore. My pillow is soaking wet. If I let this poison seep out for long enough then maybe the infection will start to heal and the pain will stop.

I won’t feel so empty and cold.

Alone.

The Uber pulls up out the front of the house at 6:45 a.m. sharp. I pay the driver and climb out. The front porch light is on, even though the sun is just coming up over the hills.

The air is getting colder, and a small cloud appears in front of me as I exhale.

I wring my hands in front of me, walk up the steps, and I knock on the door.

Julian opens it swiftly. “Hello,” he says on autopilot.

I smile awkwardly. “Hi.”

He steps back to let me in, walking into the kitchen without another word, and I close my eyes.

His force field is back on.

Probably a good thing, to be honest. This is hard enough as it is. Heaven help me if he showed any real emotion now.

‘Just take the car through the week,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘I won’t be needing it. On Fridays, I can drop you back home for the weekend. I’ll have a car pick you up Monday mornings.

I nod and clench my hands by my sides. “Thank you.”

He’s wearing a navy suit with a crisp white shirt beneath it. Then there’s the usual accessories: a grey tie, his black, immaculate shoes, and his expensive watch. His dark hair is shaped to perfection, and that’s when I know his controlled persona is fixed firmly back in place. He’s freshly showered and his aftershave smells like things dreams are made of. It’s the very same aftershave that got me in this trouble in the first place.

Damn it, I should have smashed that damn bottle the minute he caught me snooping in his bathroom cabinet. Perhaps it would have saved me a lot of heartbreak.

I watch him as my heart gets on her knees and begins to beg to be back in his arms.

Cut it out.

He watches his finger as he runs it along the edge of the kitchen counter as if he’s contemplating saying something else.

His eyes finally rise up to mine. “I’ll see you later then.”

I nod, unable to speak through the lump in my throat. He picks up his briefcase and he walks out the front door, never looking back or giving me any indication of how he’s feeling.

Sadness rolls over me.

I hope he feels as bad as I do.

I stare at the television on the wall, my mind a fog.

“Hey, Masters?”

I frown as I’m pulled from my thoughts. “What?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m taking you to the vet. You need to be put down, you’re so fucking miserable.” Spencer tuts.

We’re all in a bar having lunch. My mind is anywhere but here with these two.

I force a smile on my face. “I’m fine.”

“So, do you want to do that then?”

“Do what?”

Spencer slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes. “Stay in Sussex for Andrew’s wedding next weekend.”

I frown. “Oh, I’m not going to that.”

“You said you were coming with us.”just

“Did I?” I exhale heavily and sip my beer. “I don’t remember that.”

“Why don’t you want to come? Do you think you’re going to combust into fire when you walk into the church or something?” Seb asks.

“We probably all will,” Spence mutters sarcastically. “Do you reckon there’re hookers in Hell? Like, are we all just going to be naked, getting our rocks off down there or what?”

‘Yeah, drag queens that are going to fuck you up the ass,’ Seb retorts as he sips his beer.

Spencer winces as he considers the prospect. “That would be Hellish.” He nods to himself. “Guess it makes sense.”

I roll my eyes. Seriously. The conversations we have. “You two insult my intelligence.”

They exchange looks.

“Of course we are going to be naked and fucking down there,” I add, holding my hand up.

Spencer slaps the table. “Jolly good, then I’m down for hell.”

“Are you coming to the wedding then or not?” Seb asks.

“Not,” I reply. “I hate weddings, you know that. I would rather go to a funeral than a wedding.”

They roll their eyes at me.

“You need to go to a quack,” Seb says. “You’ve got some serious fucking issues.”

“Oh, like you don’t,” I hit back.

“No.” He points at me. “I’m no longer married because my wife is a fucking slut who fucked our gardener.”

“Here, here,” Spencer cheers, holding his beer up. “Fucking slut.”

I chuckle. Spencer hates Seb’s ex-wife with a fiery passion.

“But you…” he shakes his head as he talks, “are walking around broken-hearted like a lovesick puppy, pining for a woman who you love, who your children love, and most importantly, who loves you… all because you’re too fucking gutless to marry her.”

“I’m not gutless,” I snap. “I just don’t want to get married.”

‘Whatever,’ he grumbles. ‘Are you coming to the wedding or not?’

“Not.” I sip my beer. “Stop pissing me off.”

“When can I have my phone back?” Willow asks me.

I stare at her, expressionless. “When you’re thirty.”

She exhales heavily and sips her hot chocolate. We’re sitting at the kitchen counter. It’s late at night and Samuel has already gone to bed. Willow has been hovering around me since Brielle left last week. It’s like she knows I’m a man on the edge.

“Have you spoken to Brell yet?” she asks.

“No.” I sip my hot chocolate.

“It wasn’t her fault, Dad.”

I nod once. I don’t want to get into this with her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with her?”

I shrug as I stare at the counter.

“You need to fix this. Call her and ask her to come back.”

“Will, it’s not that simple. I wish it was.”

“Is this because she didn’t tell you about me being gay?”

I frown. “You’re not gay. Stop saying that.” I shake my head, exasperated. “Will, if you were caught in a normal nightclub last week with an eighteen-year-old boy and you told me that you thought you were interested in him, I would have had the same reaction.”

She watches me.

‘If you come out and said to me, ‘Dad, I’m a Republican now’, I would tell you that you’re too young to make that decision. If you came home and said, ‘Dad, I’m an atheist now’, I would tell you that you are too young to label yourself.’

She frowns in confusion.

“Will,” I sigh. “I’m not going to like the first person you date.”

Her shoulders slump.

‘I’m probably not going to like the second person you go out with, either or the third. Maybe not even the fourth.’

“Dad…”

“You know why?” I ask.

“Why?”

“Because until you find someone who loves you as much as I do, they will never be good enough.”

She smiles softly.

“You’re one in a million, and so, so special—too special for just anybody. And one day you will meet that person and they will love you. That’s when I will finally be able to relax and you will have my blessing.”

She takes my hand in hers and I kiss it.

“I don’t care if that person is a man or woman, Will.”

Tears fill her eyes.

“But I care that you’re sixteen, and these are adult labels that you don’t need to put on yourself yet. Why don’t you just see how it turns out? Stop trying to analyze everything.”

She smiles, and her eyes twinkle under the lights because of her tears.

“Okay?” I whisper.

She nods and I put my arm around her and hug her.

“You should go to bed. It’s late.”

She kisses me on the cheek and begins to walk off, suddenly turning back. “Dad?”

I glance up. “Yes?”

“Brell loves you as much as I do, you know.”

I drop my head and exhale heavily.

“She’s special, Dad. Don’t let her walk away.”

I point to the stairs, and she smiles, quickly turning and disappearing out of sight.

Don’t let her walk away.

Too late. I already did.

“Dad’s home!” Sammy calls from his place at the window.

I fake a smile and get up to collect my bag. I have to leave as soon as he walks in so that I don’t start blubbering like a baby and drop to my knees.

It’s been two weeks since I left.

Two weeks without him.

I’ve moved into Emerson’s old apartment with Hank and his flatmate. I even went out at the weekend. I had a shitty time and came home early, but hey… at least I tried.

Julian comes through the front door. His eyes find me across the room and I frown and snap mine away. I can’t even make eye contact with him without getting tears in my eyes.

We haven’t said one word to each other since I left. Not one that isn’t about the children, anyway. Looking back I have to wonder if he ever really loved me.

He doesn’t seem affected at all. …I’m over here dying of a broken heart, and gasping for air, and he’s looking like he just stepped out of a Vogue modelling shoot.

He’s unaffected and totally in control.

My mind has started playing fucked-up games on me. Has he gone back to the brothel? The high-class hookers? His therapist—the one who sucks his dick without questions?

I’m going crazy. Today I even counted the condoms in his bathroom cabinet, just so I know if and how often he’s had sex.

Why am I doing this to myself?

I need to leave, but I just can’t. As soon as I’m stronger I will. I promise I will.

I hug Willow and kiss her forehead. Then I kiss Sammy before I turn to Julian.

“See you tomorrow.”

He nods and rolls his lips. It’s like we don’t even know each other anymore.

Maybe we never did.

ALINA MASTERS

1984 – 2013

Wife and beloved mother.

In God’s hands, we trust

The rain pours down around my umbrella as I stare at her headstone.

Trapped.

I’m trapped in a sadness so deep, I don’t know how to escape it.

Every morning she comes to my house.

Every night, I die a little when she leaves.

I read the words carved in front of me again.

ALINA MASTERS

1984 – 2013

Wife and beloved mother.

In God’s hands, we trust

I lean down and brush the dust from her name. I rearrange the pink lilies I’ve placed in the vase. I touch her face in the small oval photo, watching as she stares back at me, unblinking.

I step back and put my hands into the pockets of my black overcoat. I come here twice a week to pay my respects to a woman who gave me my children.

My wife.

A woman who was good. A woman who deserved a better man than the one she married.

I always blamed Alina for my sadness, but Brielle has taught me that my problem isn’t Alina. My problem is me.

I don’t know how to love a woman and not cause her pain. I see it every day. The look on Bree’s face nearly breaks me.

As I stand here, I can feel the blood pumping through my veins. My body is working, keeping me alive, but my heart has completely stopped. I exhale heavily. I’ve got to stop this.

I can’t go on feeling like the world is about to end.

I frown as a realization dawns on me.

I need to do what makes me feel better. The only thing I know that works.

Half an hour later, I arrive at Madison’s, my therapist.

I always leave here relaxed. I don’t have to talk. I don’t have to think. I don’t have to feel. I walk through the front doors on autopilot.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith.” Hayley, the receptionist, smiles. “Good to see you back, sir. It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

“Would you like your normal room, sir?”

A frown creases my brow. “Yes.”

“Just go up to the penthouse and someone will be with you in a moment.”

I catch the elevator to the penthouse and pour myself a scotch. I stare out of the smoked-glass windows that overlook London.

I hear the door click behind me, and I close my eyes, already regretting what I’m about to do.

“Hello,” the feminine voice behind me says.

I turn to see Veronica, and my stomach drops. “Hello.”

She’s blonde and wearing a sexy black dress. She has a killer body—a body that has pleasured me many times before.

I sip my scotch with a shaky hand, my eyes holding hers.

She kneels in front of me and begins to unfasten my belt.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

She kisses my thigh. “You like that?” she whispers.

I stay silent.

Her hand reaches for my cock and she strokes it three times, I clench my jaw.

Her lips brush the end of me. My cock jerks in appreciation and I close my eyes in disgust.

I see a vision of Bree. My beautiful Bree.

No.

I step back from her. “Stop.”

She frowns. “I haven’t even started yet.” She crawls closer and I immediately step back again.

“Leave.”

“What?” She frowns.

“I said ,” I whisper. I turn my back to her and zip my pants back up.leave

I need to get out of here. I grab my wallet and my keys, and then I rush from the room. I hit the button on the elevator three times to try and make it arrive quicker. My heart is racing and I’m losing control.

I fall into my car and put my head into my hands. Tears fill my eyes and I sob out loud.

I’m in a dark place.

Help me.

I’m sitting in the café with Frances. We have lunch twice a week.

I still adore her, despite it now being two months since Julian and I broke up.

I miss him every single day.

To the outside world, he seems fine, but I can see in his eyes that he’s not.

I can’t help him. He needs to work through this, whatever this is.

His mother told me he’s been seeing a therapist twice a week, and not the kind who gets on her knees. A real one. One who I hope is getting through to him. I want him happy, he deserves to be happy.

My email pings.

Dear God, he wants to talk.