Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

As we return carrying trays and pots and mugs, the two barely notice us. They’re sitting across the table from each other, arms outstretched, their fingertips touching. Michael glowers.

Oh, c’mon…

They’re old friends…

“When you said, I'm here and safe,” Charlotte is saying, “what did you mean?”

His mouth works….

Choosing his words?

“After you left the farm, a man came looking for you, a police officer, or he claimed to be...”

“Yes, Tom told me that.”

“Tom? You've seen Tom?”

“Yes, it turns out he was spying for the people who sent me there.”

Chad’s head jerks back. “Was he indeed? The Blessingmoors people?” She nods, her face falling. “Jenny…” He slides his hand over hers. “It's alright. When the news broke about that place, all the pieces suddenly fit together…” He stops speaking suddenly, looking at me and Michael, then back to Charlotte.

“It’s alright,” she says. “They know it all. Both of them.”

Chad gazes at us, nodding slowly, thoughtfully, then continues. "I always knew there was something you were frightened of. When it came out about Blessingmoors, it suddenly made sense but.... Tom was spying on you for them? I can hardly believe..."

“He confessed to it. He did it because they were blackmailing him. They had his little sister…”

I nudge Michael with an elbow. “I think we should give them some privacy,” I murmur. He grunts, as sour-faced as I’ve ever seen him, but follows me out of the room. “Are you going to grow up?” I hiss, once we are out in the hall.

“And you’re happy about it, I suppose?”

“Yes. I’m happy. In fact, I’m delighted for her. Don’t you think she’s entitled to have friends other than just you and me?”

“I suppose…”

*****

When we return half an hour later, Charlotte and Chad are laughing and joking. As we enter, he grins, waving casually in Michel’s direction. “I didn't make the connection. Michael here mentioned he was married, but he called you Charlotte.” He slips a sly look her way. “Charlotte, eh?”

She blushes. “Alright, alright. So I named myself after a horse. I've been through that one with Tom. Don’t you start bending my ear about it…”

He turns away to hide his grin. "Still get to ride at all?"

“No, it's not something I've had a chance to do since I left the farm.”

“Really? That's a shame. That's how I fell in love with you, you know.” He glances Michael’s way, then back to Charlotte. “Until then, I thought we were just friends, but that day I saw you, riding Charlie, I thought I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

She sniffs and rubs her nose. “Given what followed,” she says, her voice tight, “what am I supposed to do with that information?”

He leans back in his seat. “I don't blame you. And you'll always be Jenny to me.” His gaze shifts to Michael. “Don't read anything into this. Marrying Jenny was both the best and the worst thing I ever did. And she was not responsible for anything that followed from it. I was.” He sucks in his cheeks. “I’m assuming you do know what happened between us?”

“That your marriage didn’t work out? Yes, I know.”

“Then hopefully you understand that I am so happy to find that she is safe and well. And that she has a home and a husband. We’re old friends and I’m hoping that can continue.”

Michael, arms across his chest, nods, but the gesture is short and grudging.

Chad considers him for a long moment. “So, what about this trainer’s position? Am I out of a job?”

“I think that would be most unfair,” I say. Michael jerks a look at me, but I continue. “It can only be a good thing for Charlotte to be reunited with her old friends.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Chad watches Michael speculatively, then turns back to Charlotte. “So you've kept it up? The boxing? Or have you let comfort and safety move to that spreading ass of yours?”

eyes narrow. “Want to

“I think I do.”

Michael stirs…

Trouble brewing?

point of the meeting today was for old and

the hotel, Charlotte twists, trying to look over her own shoulder,

a

*****

the gym, in joggers and vests, the pair circle each

taller than her by several inches, muscular, broad-shouldered and with not an ounce

long since she last

Six or seven years?

been

size, he’s light on his feet,

what she saw in

swings with a foot to hook around his ankle. He spins, throwing her, but she rolls and in a single smooth movement is once more on her feet, feinting with her right hand then punching with

her own style,” I comment, watching Michael side-long. He rumbles. I can’t pick out the words,

Chad has her down, his weight bearing on her, but she locks her arms up against his chest then, twisting, gets first one foot, then the

she’s up and punching. He’s blocking, parrying then

either of them

Not sure…

my back pocket, my phone vibes.

Where r

ur ass. U

has her down again. This time, she tries to lock, but he nudges her elbows open and his weight drops

He’s got her…

If it were real…

him upright, his voice mild. “Shall we see how you

lazy. “I think

scrambles upright, about to protest, but I jab a finger at her… “Charlotte!”… and point to the spot next to me. She demurs but I stab at the spot and this time she

hisses. “We've got to

cut her off. “If you think I'm getting between those two, you are much mistaken. Let them

“But it’s stupid…”

“Yes, it is. Nonetheless…”

then the doors swing open. Richard enters, Beth right behind him. He flashes brows at me then frowns, nodding across to where

“What's going on?”

up for a practice

visibly gauging Chad. “Oh, my. He’s something,

her an amused glance.

is Chad,

jaw drops and Richard’s head swings to look at Chad as though

him as

grin like a rising sun washes

the last hour or so

“And Michael…?”

doesn't like it one

each other. Michael tries an experimental jab. Chad

is adding up the pieces. “So, that’s the man who taught

“That’s right.”

Michael knows

so sure about

on the shoulder, then jolts back

they be wearing gloves?”

hurt themselves and each other like that.” She moves closer, her body reacting as fists swing

Around the same height, both heavily built, Michael perhaps more so, but

“Do you think