I took a long drink and sighed with satisfaction. The sake punch was refreshingly tart, with just enough spike to loosen my muscles. It was all too good. That seems to be the pattern with him—and I wasn’t complaining.
I heard a small and fast scuffling, and not a minute after I had begun to eat, William was by my side asking how the sushi tasted.
I looked at him, puzzled. “Delicious so far, thanks, but shouldn’t you be getting back to putting my furniture back?” I nagged good-naturedly. I was great at nagging—I’d make a great housewife, aside from the whole wife part.
William’s smile froze on his face. “I’m done, obviously,” he said, slightly puzzled.
“How could you possibly have moved an entire room of furniture in the time I’ve eaten one bite?”
He sighed, frustrated. “You didn’t read it,” he said sorrowfully.
“Read what?”
“If you had read my journal, you wouldn’t have to ask about the furniture.”
I took a long drink of punch and weighed my words. “Please sit, William,” I said. He complied, of course.
“I didn’t read it, but not out of disrespect or disinterest,” I said, taking a long breath before my next statement. “I accept you for whoever you are.”
He stood up, almost angrily. “What do you mean?” I hadn’t expected that reaction.
I gestured for him to sit again, and he did . . . albeit reluctantly.
“William, I like what we have, and where it’s going. It doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done. I don’t need to read any more about you. I just want to find it out for myself. No journal necessary.” Truthfully, it was hard for me to say that. I was essentially putting my heart on my sleeve, and I wanted to keep it in my robe. But he had an effect on me that I couldn’t deny.
He looked at me for a long moment, and then spoke. He sounded somewhat detached, or conflicted. “Mistress, I’m moved by your sentiment. I’m thrilled that you want to proceed, and that you are enjoying this experience together as much as I am. I have to admit, however, that I think you need that information if you want to keep seeing me like this. Honesty, remember?”
I found his stubbornness surprising, yet again. I pressed. “Tell me what you need to tell me, William. I’ll listen. Remember, I said I would take care of you, and if you need to get some things off your chest, then do it.”
He stood and grabbed his keys. “You have to see it for yourself. No amount of my explanations would do the story justice. Please,” he entreated, “read it tonight.”
And in a black whirl, he was out of the kitchen and out of the front door. I sprinted to see my bedroom in perfect order. He had removed the parquet floor and refurnished the entire room in the span of a minute.
As I cheerfully filled out today’s scene card, I knew I could no longer suppress the feeling that had been lingering in my mind ever since we met: William was much more than a man.
I supposed I should read that journal now.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cerise
I opened the journal to the first page, and saw that it was dated about six months ago. I flipped to the last entry, making sure I didn’t read any of the actual text, and noticed the date—a few days ago.
This did look like the real deal.
I took a long breath and turned to page one.
November 14, 2011