“Good Roxanne, you’re already here. We have a few things to discuss.” His voice is firm but not unkind.

“Alright, Mase.” She turns and struts to a closed door to the right of the lobby. Her knee injury seems perfectly fine.

“Ah, in the office.” His eyes dart to mine. When she turns back around, her smile is full force.

“Why Mase?” She tries for innocence. “We never use your office.” She bats her lashes. She’s going to make this as hard on me as possible.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I say and pull him to follow. He’s reluctant. She opens the door and holds it for us to enter. Once I pass, she steps out further causing Masen’s body to brush against hers. I hear her hum as if he just caressed her, but I’m too riveted to the scene before me to object.

The area is open much like a loft. You can see the entire space from the door save a few walls blocking off some of the kitchen area, which from what I can tell is much smaller and more utilitarian than his kitchen at home. What bothers me more than I can express are the other similarities. A large four-poster bed that looks so close to the one we sleep in at home, it could be the exact same, takes up a large portion of the corner. It’s covered in natural light from the large windows. If that isn’t bad enough, there’s an office area closely resembling his home office. The same room I enjoyed so much because I could see and feel how much of himself he put into the room. I quickly scan the living room area, but my mind is still stuck on the bed and office. It feels like I’ve been standing in this... this space for an eternity when I feel Masen touch my lower back. I snap forward like his touch burns me but try and recover so she won’t know how bad she’s hurt me. “I need the restroom please”

“Let’s go into the office. I have a small one in there,” he urges.

“Oh Mase, don’t be silly. The bathroom in here is just to die for. I know I’ve enjoyed it for years.”

“Roxanne,” he warns.

“I’m sure she’ll love it. It’s right through that door.” She points a red-painted fingernail to the only door I can see, it’s next to the bed. I glide forward, keeping my eyes trained on the door, not wanting to see anymore. I think I could have handled it if it was different, but knowing he’s poured so much of himself into this space makes me sick. I close the door behind me before even turning on the light and try to catch my breath. I hear a raised muffled voice through the door, but I’m too upset to even try and listen. When I finally find the light switch by feeling the wall, I’m momentarily relieved it doesn’t look familiar at all, but the relief evaporates quickly when I take a better look around. There is no tub, but the shower with a built-in wooden bench could easily hold ten people. Five showerheads sprout from the walls, and three hang from the ceiling. The clear glass surrounding it does nothing to hide the six different bottles of female soaps and shampoos, telling me Roxanne either likes a variety or he keeps it well stocked for his discerning guests. The same bottles Masen uses at home in his shower sit on the opposite side, whereas mine are mixed in with his.