"Nope, I think that's all," Mason's voice echoed from the hallway. His voice went silent for a second. "I'll do cash. About how long until it's delivered?"

I smiled to myself as I toweled off my hair. So, we were really ordering a pizza, huh?

Not that I minded. Hell, after a workout like that, I think I'd earned a slice or two. I guess I just found the whole situation a little bit funny. Pawing at each other like animals in heat one minute, and not even ten minutes later we were ordering a pizza. It felt almost like backtracking in some way.

"Great, see you then."

I walked into the hall as he was hanging up the phone. His face lit up when he saw me. His eyes trailed up and down my naked body, a mischievous smile forming on his lips.

"Well, well, well. What a nice surprise. Is somebody ready for round three already?" he commented, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer.

I rolled my eyes and shoved him away gently. "Sorry, but I'm afraid this isn't for you. Kind of hard to put some clothes on when the only ones I brought are still in a crumpled pile in your room. Plus, didn't you just order a pizza?"

"Hey, the pizza guy isn't the only one who can come in thirty minutes or less." He winked.

"As fun as a speed run sounds, I'd rather not have to take another shower," I explained, heading towards the bedroom. "Besides, I actually am getting kind of hungry now."

"Alright, alright. Those are both fair points," he agreed, following behind me. He grabbed his clothes off the floor. "I'm going to head downstairs. I know it's like noon or something, but would you like some coffee? After all that, I feel like I could use a bit of an energy boost myself."

"Well, if you're already making a pot, then I certainly won't say no," I chuckled.

"You got it."

I smiled as I watched him walk out of the room. And not just because the view was nice either.

I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been treated so well. Playful flirting, ordering us a pizza, offering me coffee. They were all simple things, but I honestly could not remember the last time anybody had done something like that for me. Least of all, my husband.

At the thought of Phil, my mood instantly soured. I sighed as I picked up my clothes from the floor and started to get dressed.

I thought I was long over the stage of wishing that Phil would act differently. I thought I had already accepted the fact that he was what he was and that just wasn't going to change. But I guess some small part of me still couldn't let the idea go. After all, I did love him once. Even if the man I fell in love with was only a façade.

I let out another heavy sigh as I shook my head, trying to clear away all these miserable thoughts.

It didn't matter now. None of that mattered. Whatever Phil was before and whatever he was now, our relationship was dead either way. And it had been for a very long time. There was no point in mourning something that had died so long ago. Especially not now.

As the seconds ticked by, so did my ever-shortening time with Mason. I knew it wouldn't be long before I had to head back home and this little dalliance of ours would end.

My hair would be dry in, what? An hour? Two max? So why was I wasting my time pouting over Phil and our shitty relationship? I could do that any day of the week. Right now, I wanted to focus on Mason. I wanted to enjoy my time with him.

With that goal firm in my mind, I finished putting on my clothes and headed downstairs. The smell of fresh coffee greeted me before I even walked into the kitchen. Mason was already sitting at his table, sipping a cup and looking over some kind of paper. He looked deep in thought.

"Everything okay?" I asked, leaning against the doorway.

He instantly perked up the second he heard me, the smile returned to his face. "Nope, I have a bunch of boring work junk that needs to get done and I do not want to do it. Thank God you're here to distract me."

"Oh, so that's the reason you're keeping me around," I teased, opening up a couple of the cupboards to look for the coffee cups.

"Well... one of many," he laughed. "Ah, I already grabbed you a cup by the way."

"Huh?" I turned towards him. He gestured vaguely to a lonely mug sitting across from him at the table. "Ah, thanks."

I sat down across from him and grabbed the mug. As I looked into it, I was surprised. The coffee was light and milky, a slightly sweet scent mixing with the strong bitterness of the coffee. I brought it carefully to my lips and took a small sip. A strange new feeling danced through me as I tasted it.

"Did I... mention to you how I like my coffee?"

"Huh? Ah, no. Sorry. I wasn't sure how you liked it, but you struck me as the kind of gal who likes sweet things, so I took a shot," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Feel free to dump it and make a new one if I got it wrong."

"No, no. It's perfect," I reassured him quickly. I looked down into the cup, smiling. "Actually, that's why I was wondering if I'd told you. This is exactly how I like my coffee."

"Really? Sweet. Now I just need to learn how you like your eggs in the morning," he said playfully, winking.

I couldn't help the small snort of laughter that snuck out from between my lips. He was joking with me. I knew that. But still, something about hearing him talk about me being around "in the morning" made my heart flutter.

It was impossible, of course. As late as Phil worked, he always came home eventually. And even if I was able to guarantee he wouldn't be home for a night, what would I do about the neighbors? Someone was bound to see me going into Mason's house and not coming out again.

No, it was an impossible fantasy. A joke between two casual friends with benefits. That's all it was and all it could ever be.

Then suddenly, the doorbell rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound. Mason snickered as I checked to see if I'd spilled any of my coffee.

"That's probably the pizza guy," he explained, standing.

Right. The pizza guy. I'd nearly forgotten. I let out a sigh as he left the room, shaking my head at myself.

God, what was I even doing right now? I was already risking everything I cared about in my life just to be here one time. Was I really just considering doing it all again so we could have some stupid "sleepover?"

No way. This was it. He got his fun with the desperate housewife next door, and I got fucked senseless by a man who actually knew what a female orgasm was. A win-win all around, but one where I had to know when enough was enough.

And yet...

I took another sip of my coffee. Sweet, warm, and mild. Just the way I liked it. Again, that same strange feeling overcame me as I tasted it.

I couldn't remember the last time somebody had made me a cup of coffee. Phil saw it as one of those things that I should be catering to him for. Not the other way around. Not like it mattered though. Even when he was feeling generous enough to grace me with a cup of it, he never made it right.

If it was just something stupid like it being a little too sweet or not enough milk or something, I wouldn't even care. Hell, with Phil, the thought alone really would count. But it was the complete lack of effort on his part that irked me. I mean, sugar and milk. How hard was that to remember? Yet he never did. He was always missing one or the other. Sometimes both. All these years together and he still couldn't be bothered to remember something as small as how I liked my coffee.

And then there was Mason. A man I barely knew. A practical stranger. Yet he took one look at me, decided I was "the kind of gal who likes sweet things," and ended up making me my favorite coffee. Completely by chance.

I wasn't delusional of course. Not for one second did I believe that a lucky guess on a cup of coffee was "fate" or "destiny" or some garbage like that. But that wasn't the reason that my heart fluttered every time I took a sip.

Instead, it was the overwhelming feeling of faith that swelled up inside of me every time I tasted it. The unwavering belief that if I did ever decide to come back here again, that he would actually remember how I liked it.

"Coming through!" Mason said cheerfully, walking through the doorway with a pizza box in his hands. "Extra large and extra hot."

"I know it is, but how's the pizza?" I teased.

"Careful with that flirting or I might start to think that you like me or something," he laughed.

I smiled as he set the pizza down. However, as soon as the smell of melty cheese hit my nose, Mason was the least of my concerns. My stomach growled audibly.

"Oof. You weren't kidding about being hungry," he commented, opening the box. "Well, don't just sit there starving. Dig in."

He didn't have to tell me twice. However, despite my urge to eat half the pizza in one bite, I still had enough common sense to remember that the food was hot. I grabbed a slice and blew on it a few times before taking a bite.

Mason, however, did not.

"Ow, fuck!" he cried out.

I watched as he panted frantically while trying to chew what was in his mouth as quickly as possible. When he finally managed to swallow it, he let out the biggest sigh of relief. The whole thing was so goddamn funny that I nearly choked on my own mouthful laughing at him.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Sure, sure. Laugh at my pain."

"Hey, weren't you the one who literally walked in here a minute ago announcing that it was 'extra hot?'" I pointed out. "Not my fault you have the memory of a goldfish."

"Completely your fault," he teased. "I was charmed by your feminine wiles. Those dirty comments and starving puppy-dog eyes of yours are enough to make a man forget his own name. Let alone that a pizza is hot."

"Uh-huh, sure," I said rolling my eyes. "I'm going to eat my pizza now."

"Careful, it's hot."

Again, he brought a small snicker of laughter bubbling up from my throat. I shook my head at him as I took another bite. After a minute or so of letting it cool off, he grabbed his own piece and started eating too.

I never knew that I could feel so light. It was like I was weightless, floating in a cloud of pure bliss. Was this what sharing a meal with somebody was supposed to feel like? Or was it just the afterglow of sex that was making me feel this way? I honestly couldn't tell. And I think that was part of my problem. I didn't even know what "sharing a nice meal together" was supposed to feel like.

Even before all the bullshit in our sham of a marriage, eating with Phil was never like this. There was always so much pressure when we were dating. Whether that pressure was intentional or not at the time I can only speculate, but either way, it existed.

After all, how could it not? He was the handsome, successful son of a well-to-do family. Charismatic, top of his class in school, the envy and desire of men and women everywhere. For him, a bright future wasn't an "if" it was a "when." And the answer was "as soon as he graduated." He was already a made man long before I ever met him.

Which only made it all the more shocking when, out of all the women he could have chosen to be with, he somehow chose me.

At the time, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the entire world. He turned the charm up to an eleven in ways I never could have imagined. Roses delivered to my house, evenings out at fancy restaurants, taking me to exclusive stores whose products I couldn't even afford to look at. He treated me like a princess.

Making it even more obvious to me what a peasant I really was. Sure, I had fun doing all those things with him, but every interaction was always tainted by anxiety. The fear that I didn't belong in his world, that I wasn't good enough for him, and that any day now, he would realize that and leave me.

Maybe that's why it was so easy for him to fool me at the time. I was so desperate to be whatever I needed to be to stay by his side, that I never even realized that that was exactly what he wanted. Hell, maybe it was even the reason that he chose me in the first place. I was the perfect target to become his "good little housewife."

Was being the keyword there. Much to his dismay, that desperate, doe-eyed little girl died as soon as I realized how full of shit he was. Unfortunately, the damage from her poor choices had already been done. Phil had gotten his claws into Eli by then. And now, they were in too deep to ever be ripped out. At least, not without losing Eli forever.

"You alright?"

Mason's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Huh?"

"You've been sighing a lot," he explained, a concerned look on his face. "Anything you want to talk about?"

I bit my lip as I looked down at my pizza. Did I want to talk about it? Of course. All I wanted was somebody that I could talk to about all this crap. But not like this. And not with him. This was more baggage than a casual friend with benefits should ever need to carry. And I wasn't going to do that to him.

"Oh God. I chose the wrong pizza toppings, didn't I?"

The questions threw me off so much I actually looked up at him just out of sheer confusion. He smacked himself in the forehead jokingly, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Mason, you idiot! What were you thinking?" he chastised himself exaggeratedly. "Cheese is always the safe way to go. Why take the risk with pepperoni? Now she'll never come back. You blew it, man. You blew it!"

His performance was so terrible it almost rivaled a daytime soap opera. It was ridiculous. Completely over-the-top. And I couldn't stop laughing at it.

A fit of giggles overtook me as I watched him in his mock despair. Which, judging by the slight smile on his lips, was exactly his plan. I tried to stifle my laughter enough to play along with his little game. With moderate success.

"Don't worry. I like pepperoni," I reassured him, fighting back the last few giggles. "And I like you too."

"Enough to come back again sometime?"

He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, but maybe he really was a bad actor, because he did a terrible job of hiding his hopeful expression.

All at once, my heart sank. I could feel the pizza churning in my stomach as the anxiety built up inside of me.

This was it. The moment that I had been dreading. The time to finally make a clean break from all of this. To let him know that we'd had our fun, but this was where it ended. That it was time to go our separate ways. There was no point in dragging this thing out any more than we needed to. I needed to end things. Now.

I just wasn't sure if I could actually do it.