Time or Money Read online

  Copyright

  Time or Money

  Carly Fall

  Copyright Carly Fall 2013

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN (ePub): 978-0-9874006-6-6

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and for all other inquiries, contact Bottom Drawer Publications by email: [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Summary

  Time or Money

  Carly Fall

  Mason Jackson knows his marriage to Bridget is in trouble. He’s been putting in exhausting hours for months to try to make partner in his accounting firm. He knows that it is putting a strain on his marriage, but he has trouble escaping the memory of the poverty of his childhood. He never wants his wife, or the children they yearn for, to know the struggle that he endured when he can provide a better life for them. But things are reaching breaking point; he and Bridget are more like roommates than a married couple. He needs to think of a way to get their marriage back on track and what better way than to make Valentine's Day, Bridget's favorite holiday of the year, a new start for their marriage? Mason puts in place plans for an elaborate evening designed to surprise Bridget.

  Bridget is miserable in her marriage, and often longs for the days when they were dirt poor. They may have struggled financially, but at least she had her husband around. Mason is always working, and Bridget feels that he has chosen his work over her. She’s tried to talk to him about the way she feels, but he doesn’t seem to hear her. He just keeps telling her that once he makes partner then everything will be all right. But Bridget is sick of Mason forgetting the things that are important to her . . . like their anniversary a few months ago. She is at the end of her tether and decides that if he forgets Valentine’s Day, her favorite day of the year, then divorce just might be on the cards.

  At the end of the day, this couple has only one decision to make: Time or Money?

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my mom and dad.

  Thank you for teaching me the importance of hard work and providing us with such a wonderful childhood.

  Although you worked hard, thank you for always making the time to be there for us.

  I love you.

  Chapter One

  Mason Jackson finished with the last loop of his striped blue and black tie and shimmied the knot up to his throat. He ran his hands over his gray button-down shirt and tucked it into his black pants.

  Mason studied his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were blue; the same ocean blue as in his tie, and his thick, black hair needed a trim. There were a few gray hairs at his temples. He reached for the tweezers to pluck them out. He wasn’t quite ready for the older, distinguished gentleman look yet.

  His nose bent slightly off-center, the result of a break when he played high school football, and his just-shaved skin was tanned from weekends on the golf course. He stood at six foot two, and his wife had described him as “ruggedly good looking.” What that meant, he wasn’t sure, but as long as she was happy with it, so was he.

  Not quite as muscular as he had been in his twenties, at thirty-five he was trim and looked pretty good; there wasn’t a sign of that gut that seemed to plague many of his male friends and colleagues who were the same age. Even with his grueling work schedule as a chartered accountant, he managed to find time to exercise a few times a week.

  Checking his watch, he figured he would make it to the office by seven. He was trying to make partner at his financial firm, and had been told that the more hours he put in and the more money he made for the firm, the better his chances. So for the past six months, he had been getting to the office early each morning and staying late.

  He turned and looked at his bed where his wife, Bridget, or Ms. B, as he sometimes called her, slept soundly, oblivious to his gaze. Wrapped up beneath the dark-brown comforter in the fetal position, and looking as if she were trying to avoid the approaching morning, she reminded him of Pigs in a Blanket, his favorite breakfast from his childhood.

  She definitely wasn’t a morning person. The sunlight that was starting to peek through the blinds glistened off her short, blonde hair. It looked a little lighter than usual, but he hadn’t noticed until now. He wondered when she had gotten it colored and chastised himself for not seeing the change sooner.

  As Mason stared at the shining tips, he smiled as he remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her, which was at an AC/DC concert of all places. She was seated two rows ahead of him and had caught his eye right away. During the concert he had paid little attention to the band, his focus being on her and her then long, blonde hair that swayed across the middle of her back as she danced. At some point during the concert she turned around and smiled at him. When their eyes met, he knew he was a goner. After the concert, he asked her out, and they had been inseparable from then on. A year later they were married, and she had given him the surprise of his life on their wedding day when she had all of her hair cut off into the sexy blonde spikes she wore now. He loved the short hair more than the long, blonde waves.

  His smile faded as he thought, yet again, about how long it had been since they’d spent any quality time together. They hadn’t made love in over two months. Their respective jobs kept them both so busy; it seemed like there wasn’t time to do anything but work, eat, sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

  He’d been at the office until nine the previous night and had come home exhausted. He and Bridget had a stilted conversation in the kitchen about their days for ten minutes over a glass of wine, and then they had gone to bed. Mason was asleep within seconds. It seemed as though if they weren’t arguing, they had trouble talking about anything. There was so much tension and strain in the relationship, he felt like he had to be careful with every word that came out of his mouth. Frankly, sometimes it was just easier to not say anything at all.

  Right now they were more roommates than a married couple, and roommates that weren’t getting along very well. There wasn’t the connection that they used to share.

  Marveling at how far they had grown apart, he recalled the first months of their marriage when they lived in a small studio apartment. They were happy with macaroni and cheese for dinner, boxes of wine, and each other. He looked around the huge bedroom with its expensive Southwest decor; done in warm browns, rust colors, and deep yellows. The travertine floors gleamed white. It was about the size of the small apartment he grew up in. He was proud of his success and having risen above the poverty that plagued his childhood, but as he stared back at his wife, he felt utter loneliness shudder through him.

  Mason loved Bridget now more than the day he married her five years ago, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. His heart literally hurt to think about that scenario. However, he did know that something had to give in the relationship. They had to find some way to reconnect, to become a couple again. Four years ago they had talked about starting a family, and he still wanted that. But for a family to happen there had to be a set of loving parents.

  If they kept this up, Mason knew they were destined for a divorce that he didn’t want.

  He sighed, running his hand through his hair. Yes, they needed some time to talk, some time to get reacquainted and, dammit, he needed to get his hands on her sweet little body and make love to
her.

  That was going to happen tonight. Mason had made reservations for a suite at one of the finest hotels in downtown Phoenix, Arizona, and arranged for a four-course meal to be served in the room. There were also five-dozen red roses ordered, a dozen for each year they had been married that were to be placed in the suite. Mason had cleared his calendar from three o’clock on and packed an overnight case for both of them. He had also let his office know that he wouldn’t be working tomorrow. He usually went in or played golf with a client or one or more of the company partners on Saturdays, but tonight was important and he wanted it to carry on until tomorrow.

  He’d decided the evening would be a surprise, so he would call Bridget later and have her meet him. She loved surprises, and he hoped this one would really shock the hell out of her, and hopefully jumpstart their marriage as well.

  He went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee into his travel mug, grabbed his keys, and headed for the garage, his heart feeling lighter in the hope that his plans for the night would be just what his marriage needed. Yes, tonight would be special, because after all, it was Valentine’s Day, and he knew it was Bridget’s favorite holiday.

  Chapter Two

  Bridget Jackson rolled over, blindly searching for the blaring alarm clock. After a few missed attempts, she finally opened her eyes and found the snooze button. How did 7:00 a.m. come around so quickly?

  She sank back into the pillows and threw her arm over her eyes, thinking about what needed to be accomplished for the day. As the assistant to the CEO of a large food distribution facility, her day would be crazy. There was a meeting at nine to sit in on, inventory reports to review, and the organization of a company retreat to work on, among other things.

  And it was Valentine’s Day.

  As a hopeless romantic, this was her favorite holiday of the year. She knew that the day had been commercialized to death, but she loved the thought of one day being devoted to . . . well . . . love. It was one day that couples focused on each other, made it a point to do sweet things and were a little nicer. The hearts, the flowers, the chocolate, and the sexy lingerie . . . she couldn’t get enough of it.

  She groaned and rolled over to Mason’s side of the bed, which was cold this morning, as usual. Pulling the covers over her head, she wished she could just stay in her little cocoon.

  Things between her and Mason hadn’t been going well. He’d been so busy trying to make partner at the accounting firm, it seemed as though he had forgotten that he was married. He had become more of a roommate than a husband, except she still washed his socks and underwear.

  She’d gotten her hair cut and dyed a week ago, hoping that the little change would spark some interest from him, but he hadn’t noticed. After he had gotten home last night, they’d had a glass of wine, some awkward conversation, and headed to bed. Bridget had gone into the bathroom to change into a new green lace negligee she’d chosen carefully because it matched her eyes, but he was asleep when she slipped into bed. She’d taken it off and put on her old, beat up nightshirt that said, Don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee, before falling asleep next to him, pissed off and sexually frustrated.

  Not that he was fully responsible for the breakdown of their marriage. She had been putting in long hours as well, but that was in response to not wanting to be at home alone all the time.

  Things used to be so simple. They weren’t easy, but they were simple. When they married, he’d just gotten a job with a small firm, and he was home every night for dinner. She remembered how they used to spend their evenings curled up together on their ratty, old futon watching reruns of Law and Order and talking quietly. They used to make love every night.

  She grimaced as she struggled to remember the last time Mason had reached for her. It hurt not being wanted.

  Something had to give.

  Bridget knew she wasn’t happy with the trajectory of their relationship, and she assumed that Mason wasn’t either. He was never home, and when she tried to talk to him about it, it led to bitter arguments about how she didn’t appreciate what he was trying to do for them. When they weren’t arguing, they seemed to have trouble communicating with each other. It was as if both were guarded in their words for fear of starting another fight. She figured it had been over two months since they’d had sex, and it had crossed her mind more than once that he might be having an affair. She missed the intimacy, not to mention the exquisite physical pleasure that they gave each other.

  The alarm blared again, and Bridget flicked the switch to off, resigned to face the day.

  An hour later, she stood at the kitchen sink sipping coffee and eating a piece of toast while preparing herself for the onslaught of the day, unable to get rid of the knot of depression that had settled in her heart. Her co-workers would get flowers and candy, and if her anniversary were any indication, she would most likely receive nothing. Mason would probably forget the day, just as he had forgotten their anniversary four months ago. That had resulted in one of the biggest fights of their relationship, and he had slept in the guest room for two nights. If he forgot today, her favorite holiday of the year, she didn’t know what she would do.

  She picked up the card she had gotten him. It spoke of a husband being a best friend, someone she could count on, someone she knew would be there for her. It talked of soul mates and hearts beating together as one. At one point she would have felt comfortable giving it to him, but on this Valentine’s Day it felt like a lie.

  She looked around the kitchen of the four-bedroom house they had bought three years ago with intentions of starting a family within a couple of years. Bridget ran her hand over the beautiful brown and white marble they had chosen for their countertops during the remodeling. They had fought about the flooring, as well as the appliances. Mason had won the floor fight, and she now stood on brown stone flooring that tended to be a little slick. She, however, had triumphed over the appliance fight, and bright, shiny steel appliances brightened up the kitchen.

  The remodel had been a significant stress on their relationship, but they made it through. The house was far too big for the two of them, and sometimes she longed for the simplicity of their studio apartment and their lives at the beginning of their relationship.

  She sighed, and a tear slipped down her cheek. At the rate they were going, there wouldn’t be any family but divorce papers instead. Unlike the remodel, she didn’t know if their relationship would survive Mason’s ambition to become a partner.

  Bridget did a quick check of her white silk blouse, making sure that she hadn’t spilled anything on it. Her gray skirt hugged her slim hips and fell just above her knees, and she knew her feet would be sore at the end of the day from her matching gray pumps.

  Turning to grab her keys, she almost stepped on Lucy the cat. Her foot twisted, making her grasp onto the counter so she wouldn’t fall, sending her cell phone and keys crashing to the stone floor. Her other foot slipped out from under her, and she hit her chin on the countertop on the way down, landing on her elbow and hip. Slowly sitting up, she cursed silently and propped herself against the cabinets among the pieces of her wrecked phone. She sat on the hard, stone floor, her chin and elbow throbbing, and Lucy came over and sat on her lap and began to purr, obviously surviving the near collision without a scratch. Bridget did a quick check on her elbow and gingerly touched her chin, relieved to find that she wasn’t bleeding.

  A perfect start to what potentially would be an absolutely horrible day.

  Tears fell again, both from the pain of the fall and the agony of what her marriage had become, and she wished she could just go back to bed and forget Valentine’s Day.

  Chapter Three

  Mason looked up from the paperwork he was going over and saw that it was one o’clock already. Coming to his feet, he rubbed his eyes and stretched. He needed to call Bridget, so he went to shut his office door, the thick off-white carpet muting his footsteps.

  Back at his desk, he dialed her cell phone and wasn’t surp
rised when it went straight to voicemail.

  Hi, this is Bridget. Please leave me a message and I’ll return your call as soon as I can.

  Her voice was soft and had a slight sultry quality to it, and he loved hearing it.

  “Hey, Ms. B,” he said, using his nickname for her. He had meant to leave a simple message, but he felt like he needed to apologize for the way their relationship had been. He knew he was the root cause of their problems. “Look, I know today’s Valentine’s Day, and . . . well, I love you, baby. I want tonight to be special, so if you could meet me at the Biltmore today around four or five, I have a little surprise for you. I know things haven’t been great between us. Maybe tonight will give a chance to talk about it.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “I need you, honey, and I need us to get things straightened out. I know we both work too much, but maybe we can find some sort of compromise . . . we just don’t talk anymore. I want . . . look, can you please just meet me? I’ll wait for you in the bar. I hope you’re having a good day, and I’ll see you later.”

  Hanging up the phone, a little kernel of optimism sprang within him. He had taken the first step in getting his marriage back on track, and hopefully tonight they could talk it out.

  The phone rang.

  “This is Mason,” he said.

  “Hey, Mason, it’s John.”

  Mason began his career in a small financial firm when he graduated from college, but John had recruited him to the bigger firm at a charity golf function two years ago. John was also one of the partners in the firm and had become one of Mason’s closest friends.