Once the dishes were clean and the kitchen was tidied up, Ellen dried her hands and glanced toward the living room. Mason had already made his way there, getting comfy on the couch with a newspaper in hand. He looked completely at ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
Ellen hesitated in her place, unsure of what to do next. Should she join him? Should she wait for him to say something? The uncertainty was driving her crazy. She stood there, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, debating whether to approach him or not.
Mason’s voice broke through her thoughts, startling her. "You don’t have to just stand there," he said without looking up from his newspaper. "Come sit down."
Ellen blinked, feeling a bit foolish for lingering so long. She quickly moved to the couch and sat down next to him, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. Mason didn’t seem upset at all, but her own guilt over last night was making her overthink everything.
They sat in silence for a few moments, with Mason flipping through the pages of his newspaper and Ellen staring at her hands in her lap. The quiet was almost suffocating, and Ellen couldn’t help but wonder if she should say something to break it. But what could she say? She didn’t want to bring up last night if Mason wasn’t going to.
Finally, Ellen couldn’t stand the silence any longer. She glanced over at Mason, who seemed completely absorbed in his reading, though she suspected he was just as aware of the tension as she was. "You came back early," she said, breaking the quiet like a pebble tossed into a still pond.
Mason didn’t immediately respond. He flipped another page of the newspaper, his eyes skimming over the text, before he finally answered. "Yeah," he said, his tone casual. "Everything got done fast."
Ellen nodded, though she had a million other questions swirling in her head. But instead, she opted for something simpler. "How was London?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Mason paused for a moment, as if considering his answer. "Well," he began, "London is... London."
Ellen blinked, taken aback by the vague response. She tilted her head slightly, her brows furrowing in mild confusion. What kind of answer was that? She couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just teasing her. "That’s all you’re going to say?" she asked, half-expecting him to elaborate.
Mason shrugged nonchalantly, not giving much away. "What else is there to say?"
Ellen bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. Leave it to Mason to be both enigmatic and frustratingly brief. She opened her mouth to ask more, but before she could, Mason suddenly stood up, folding the newspaper and setting it down on the coffee table. He then turned and headed upstairs, leaving Ellen alone in the living room.
She watched him go, feeling a bit puzzled but also curious. What was he up to now? Before she could dwell on it too much, Mason returned, his footsteps echoing lightly on the stairs. He walked back into the room, a small paper bag in hand, which he quickly held up in front of her face, almost startling her.
Ellen blinked, her eyes focusing on the bag before looking up at Mason. "What’s this?" she asked, tilting her head as she reached out to take the bag from him.
Mason didn’t say anything, simply gesturing with a slight nod for her to open it. His eyes held a flicker of something—anticipation, maybe? Ellen couldn’t quite place it, but it was enough to pique her curiosity further.
Carefully, Ellen opened the bag, her fingers brushing against the crinkled paper as she pulled out the contents. The first thing she saw was a shirt, its white fabric soft against her skin. She unfolded it to reveal the words "I ♥ London" emblazoned across the front in bold, black letters. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but as she reached into the bag again, she pulled out a little hat, striped with the colors of the British flag.
Ellen looked up at Mason, her eyes wide with surprise and a growing sense of warmth in her chest. "Aw, you remembered," she said, her voice soft but filled with genuine appreciation. The souvenirs might have been generic, but the fact that Mason had thought to bring her something—anything—was what mattered most to her.
Mason’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a faint glimmer in his eyes, almost as if he was pleased with her reaction, though he didn’t say anything. Ellen couldn’t help but smile even more, the happiness bubbling up inside her. She hugged the shirt and hat to her chest, feeling a surge of affection for him.
"Thank you," Ellen said, her voice sincere as she looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I love them."
Mason met her gaze, and for a long moment, he just looked at her, as if he was searching for something in her expression. His face softened, and he gave a small, faint little nod, acknowledging her thanks. But then, as if suddenly aware of how long he had been staring, he cleared his throat and quickly looked away, his usual stoic demeanor returning. "Don’t make a big deal out of it," he muttered, his tone gruff, but there was no real irritation in his voice.
Ellen chuckled softly, amused by his attempt to downplay the gesture. She could see through the tough exterior he always put up, knowing that underneath, Mason cared more than he liked to admit. "I won’t," she promised, though her smile didn’t fade.
Mason shifted slightly in his seat, his discomfort at the emotional moment evident in the way he glanced around the room, avoiding her eyes. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, the movement betraying a hint of nervousness. "Good," he said, his voice firm, but there was a softness in his expression that didn’t match his words.