| PARTS 7-9 |
PART SEVEN Maria unplugged the lights on the Christmas tree and finished stuffing the left over wrapping into the trash bag. Christmas. Watching Abby that morning, she hadn’t been able to help remembering her own childhood. The torture of their parents making them take turns opening each gift so that a picture could be taken of every ‘opening reaction’, pulling their stockings down from the mantle and dumping the contents onto the floor to sort through what they’d received, then not being able to decide what to play with first. Of course, after the presents there was always a big Christmas breakfast, and then later an even bigger Christmas dinner… Kyle and Abby were gone. Vickie’s parents had picked them up right after they’d finished opening presents. She understood that Kyle felt it was important that Abby stay close to the other side of her family, even if her mother wasn’t around…she just hated being away from them on this of all days. Still, she shouldn’t complain. This Christmas beat last year by a mile. Maria wished she could banish the memory of hauling Abby and her scant number of presents up to Kyle’s hospital room so that he could see her open them…that had been dismal and heartbreaking. The phone rang after she got out of the shower and she glanced at the clock, it was a little after noon. “Hello?” “Maria!” “Liz! Merry Christmas,” Maria couldn’t help but smile. “Merry Christmas! Was Abby excited about the doll?” “Yeah, she loved it. She took it with her,” Maria smiled, Liz had gone Christmas shopping with her the previous Sunday. She’d actually gone a little overboard – with Kyle’s encouragement. “Oh, I’m so glad. We’re just about to eat, so I’ve only got a second…Now, don’t get mad…” “Don’t get mad?” “Max called me last night, and he’d like me to be at the wedding early for pictures.” “Really? Wow, isn’t it a little soon for that? I mean…” “Oh, no, he just wants me to be there. He doesn’t want me to be in them,” Liz giggled nervously. “Ok. Well, that makes a little more sense then. So, we’ll be leaving earlier, then?” “Um, that’s the thing…I’m leaving right after I eat.” “Oh, no…I just got out of the shower, I won’t be ready for-.” “No, it’s ok, Maria. I didn’t mean for you to come with me. I’m just going to have your date meet you in front of the diner.” “In front of the diner?” “Yeah…So, be there at 5. Talk to you later!” “No! Wait, Liz – how will I even know who he is?” “Well, I’m sure he’s the only person you’ll see who’s dressed to go to a wedding. My dad’s carving the turkey – gotta’ go!” “No! Liz-,” Maria hung up the phone when she heard the click. She didn’t even know this guys name, or what he looked like…Of course that was because she wouldn’t let Liz tell her. This was irritating, though. Not only did she have to go alone, she had to meet the guy in front of the diner? That made no sense. Couldn’t he just pick her up? She walked back into the bathroom to finish drying her hair. *** “Yeah?” “Michael?” “Do you expect someone else to answer my phone, Max?” “Ok, listen, Liz can’t give her friend a ride. She’s going to meet you at your place.” “Liz is?” “No, the friend is.” “Ok…” Michael furrowed his brow and turned his attention back to the game on the television, then started listening closely again when he heard Max’s muffled whispering on the other end of the phone. “Who are you talking to, Maxwell?” “Oh, uh, Liz – talking to Liz. I guess she’s meeting you in front of the diner. At five o’clock. On the dot.” “That makes no sense. Why not have her come over here?” “Uh, Liz says she only knows where the diner is.” “Is she too stupid to find her way across the street?” “Well, I think Liz forgot that you live across the street.” “Forgot? She delivers food over here all of the time-.” “Hey – sorry, Michael, gotta’ go. They’re starting to take pictures. Bye!” Michael clicked off the phone and tossed it down on the couch next to him. When the game went on commercial he ran upstairs to shower. His watch read 4:15. *** Carefully, Maria rubbed the gloss over the lipstick and then smacked her lips into the mirror. Yes, that looked good. She gave her hair a few more pats, then stuffed her make-up essentials into the tiny evening bag she was using. The long dress Liz had loaned her was a little simple for her taste, but it was nice. It was a very deep red, almost black, it wasn’t a color that she normally wore, and she felt a little out of place in it, but it hung nicely from tiny spaghetti straps and was form fitting so at least it didn’t look ‘borrowed’. Her hair was down, worn in very loose curls around her face. Taking one last glance in the mirror, she sighed, then walked quickly to the door. Her mother’s long black wool dress coat was the only thing she had that was remotely appropriate for the occasion. She was glad she’d kept it. Pulling the collar up slightly, she caught a faint whisper of her mother’s smell in the fabric. Tears sprang instantly to her eyes, and she buried her nose into the black wool but never caught the scent again. Maybe it had been her imagination. She’d been rather nostalgic all day. The air was cold, and the walk to the diner felt longer than usual. Probably because she was wearing heels, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn anything other than sneakers or sandals. Her feet were beginning to ache by the time she got to the diner. It was dark inside, Murray always closed for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Turning, she inspected her reflection in the glass, it was almost dark, but she could still see well enough. As she was tucking one last strand of hair behind her ear, she caught his reflection and watched him walk out of his building. She was almost sure he’d been wearing a suit, but her back was to him, and she was afraid it would be too obvious if she turned around to make sure. As he walked to his car and put what looked like a long coat in the back seat, she prayed he wouldn’t notice her. She’d never seen him dressed up before. Must be for Christmas. Or, maybe… Was he going to the wedding too? Well, he was a friend of Max’s, it would make sense…A wave of dread washed over her. Now he’d know she was out on a blind date. What if he said something to the guy she was with? Oh no… She was so lost in her own thoughts, and didn’t notice his reflection in the glass as he crossed the street, walking toward her. The sound of him clearing his throat made her jump, and she whirled around to face him. His eyes grew wide, and then narrowed. He was wearing a black suit with a dark gray colored shirt and a solid tie in an even darker shade of gray, his usually mussed hair was slicked back - though not severely, it was still very ‘him’. Michael looked like he’d just walked off the cover of a magazine. She gulped and tried to remember her name. *** He saw the woman peering into the diner the minute he walked out of his door. She was wearing a long dress coat, and he knew it had to be her. It made sense that she was a blonde, Max knew that was normally his preference. This ‘blind date’ was not something he was looking forward to. Earlier he’d decided that he’d give the girl two minutes to impress him, and if she didn’t, he’d just take her home and say he had a headache. There was no way he was going to let her embarrass him if she was ditzy, or a chatterbox, or stupid. Maybe he should just walk over and tell her he had a headache right away… Walking to his car, he kept a close eye on her, watching for anything odd. He opened the back door and laid his coat out across the seats, then closed it and started walking toward her. Her back was completely turned to him, and he had no hint of what she looked like. Well, he could be reasonably sure that she was a looker – Max wasn’t stupid. Stopping behind her, he cleared his throat. She jumped slightly and turned to face him. He couldn’t believe it. It was her. So, this was their little game. She seemed nervous. Had she set this whole thing up? “It’s you,” he stated. She stared at him, looking confused, then looked slightly irritated, “Yeah…” “Well, don’t just stand there,” he turned to leave, expecting her to follow him. “Excuse me?” her voice sounded from behind him. He turned back to face her, “What?” She was shaking her head in small jerking notions, and a look of disbelief seemed to have passed over her face, “Oh no. Y-your’re not…No, no, no. It isn’t you, is it?” So, she was in the dark too. He nodded, “Yeah, it’s me. They think they’re cute. Come on, let’s get going.” He started to walk again. “Wait. I don’t-,” she paused when he turned sharply to face her again. “We don’t have to do this, I mean obviously,” she blushed and looked at the ground, “well, they don’t know…I-I’m just going to go home.” She started to walk past him, and he quickly put himself in her path, “You’re not going home.” Her eyes narrowed, “I think I’ll decide if I’m going home or not.” As she started to move again, he grabbed her arm and looked down at her, then softly said, “ Don’t.” He watched carefully as her eyes closed, her lids drifting down over the flashing green, lashes resting lightly on her cheeks. When she opened them again, he saw her give in. “All right.” Relief. He quickly turned and walked to the car, hearing her following close behind. So much for the headache idea. *** She climbed awkwardly into his SUV, trying not to look at him. It had never occurred to her that it would be him. Why would it? She glanced over at him, then immediately looked away remembering her resolve not to look. Looking was dangerous. He looked too good for looking. “Put on your seatbelt,” he ordered her. Startled, she looked over at him. He was looking at her. Reaching her hand up behind her she grabbed the seatbelt and pulled it across her body and shoved it into the buckle. Oh, this was a bad idea. She definitely should have gone home. Her anger was starting to bubble over. “Listen, Mr. ‘I’m famous, obey me’, I’m the one doing the favor here, so-.” “Who said I was famous?” “I-I guess I did,” she stammered, not really knowing how to answer. “I’m not famous.” “Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, wishing he hadn’t already pulled away from the curb. “ What did I do to you?” he scrunched his face up in anger as he stared straight ahead. She looked over at him… hmm, let’s see… “Can’t even remember when he goes slumming,” she whispered sharply under her breath while she looked out the window. “ Slumming?” he pulled the car over to the side of the street and turned to glare at her. “Yeah. I mean, that’s what you rich types call it, right?” “ You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said dangerously. “Don’t I? So, I guess you don’t go around pretending to be a normal person and making people think-,” she stopped herself and tried hard to find something outside her window to concentrate on. “Pretending to be normal? I am normal. And, I don’t know what you expect me to do-.” “Maybe give somebody a hint about who you are-.” “What do you want me to do, wear a sign?!?!” “I don’t know,” she mumbled, wishing he hadn’t made her feel completely stupid. Did she expect him to wear a sign? It wasn’t like she walked up to people and announced that she was a waitress… “Is that why you’ve been acting like this? Did someone say something about me?” his voice was considerably calmer, and she glanced at him and saw that he was tensely gripping the steering wheel. “No. I saw an article…there was a concert…” she wished she could keep her mouth shut. Everything she said was making her sound so stupid. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he pulled back out into traffic, “So, you were mad because I was in a magazine.” How was he able to make it seem so dumb? It wasn’t dumb. He’d used her. Well, maybe she’d gone there that night looking for something…and, maybe she had wanted it as much as he did…but he didn’t have a right to withhold information - information that would have stopped her from-…from what? Sleeping with him? Falling for him? She didn’t want to think about it. Glancing at him, she was surprised to see an amused smirk on his face. So, he was laughing at her. Wonderful. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of the night under his thumb. “So, your ex is getting married, huh?” There – that had wiped that stupid look off his face. His jaw was clenched and a muscle in his cheek twitched. She’d gotten to him. When he didn’t answer after a few seconds, she opened her mouth again, “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I asked you a question-.” “I heard you.” “Oh?” “Well, obviously she’s getting married. That’s where we’re going, isn’t it?” there was more bitterness than anger in his tone. If he was that upset by it, why was he going? His fingers were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his shoulders had hunched forward slightly. She was sorry she’d ever said anything, even if he did deserve it. *** He didn’t understand her. She was impossible to read. Just when he thought he was sure what was going on in her head, she blindsided him. They rode the last forty-five minutes of the drive in silence. Pulling to an abrupt stop in front of the hotel, Michael hopped out of his side and handed the keys to the valet, with a twenty. Then immediately went to the back of the car to retrieve his wedding gift. She watched curiously as he pulled the wrapped painting out and then walked in the front doors. Sensing that she wasn’t following, he turned around to look at her and beckoned her with a jerk of his head. Frowning slightly, she moved to his side. There was a sign pointing toward the ballroom, that read, ‘Evans/Whitman Wedding’. He followed it down the hall and on his way into the ballroom he ran into Diane Evans. “Oh, Michael!” “Hi.” She leaned up to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, her smile was sincere, “I’m so glad you’re here.” “Yeah…” he said, trying to give her a smile but failing dismally. “And, who do we have here?” Diane smiled looking at Maria. “Oh, uh…” Maria stepped forward and offered her hand with a smile, “Maria Valenti.” “Diane Evans, Maria,” Diane took her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m a friend of Max’s. He’s a wonderful man, you must be so proud,” Maria said. “Oh, thank you, what a lovely thing to say,” Diane’s smile grew wider. Michael watched their exchange. He’d never seen Maria that friendly. Well, she was friendly with customers…other customers. She looked perfectly at ease chatting with Diane. It surprised him. “Uh, Diane, where do I put the gift?” “Oh, well, I’d have to check with the wedding coordinator, but,” she paused and looked at the gift in his hands, “is that one of yours?” “Yeah,” he shrugged. “I don’t think we should put that with the other gifts, I mean, my goodness,” Diane glanced around the empty hall as though looking for help. “Maybe you should put it in one of our rooms, it’s just much to valuable to be left out.” “I don’t think-,” he started to shake his head. “No, no. Listen, could you go store it in our room? It’s number 1215. Max is up there, all the groomsmen are using it as headquarters. I’d just feel much better if I knew it was safe.” “All right,” he said. “I’m so happy to have met you, Maria,” Diane said with a smile and a sly wink in his direction as she moved in the door. “You too,” Maria said. “Well, come on,” he said as he set off toward the elevators at the end of the hall. “So, when exactly does the wedding start?” she asked as she followed him. “At 7.” “That’s not for another hour. Why are we so early?” “I don’t know, Max said I should come early,” he said as they stepped into the elevator and he pushed the button for the 12th floor. “Ok…” she said. The elevator stopped and as they stepped out she started to unbutton her coat. “What are you doing?” he asked, looking down at her. “I’m hot,” she said, pausing with her fingers on a button to look up at him. He knocked on the door at 1215 and had to wait nearly a minute for someone to answer. It was Max. “Oh, thank God you’re here,” he said pulling Michael in the door and giving Maria a brief smile. “Uh, yeah, Maxwell. You think you’re so-,” Michael started. Max cut him off with a jerk of his hand, and whispered, “Later. I need your help.” Setting the painting down against the sofa in the sitting room of the suite, he tried not to look irritated. Max owed him an explanation about his date. “What do you need my help for?” “Look, I can’t talk here,” Max glanced around nervously, then grabbed his arm, pulling him to the door, “come on.” Michael glanced at Maria who had just taken off her coat and stopped dead in his tracks, holding Max with him. She looked stunning. He’d never imagined…Well, maybe he had imagined – while he was painting-. “Michael?” Max’s voice was urgent. “Huh…?” he replied, not taking his eyes from her. She was moving toward them, ready to follow. The red dress clung to her tiny body as she moved, and her hair was falling free around her face. He just realized that she was wearing it down. This was the only time he’d seen it that way, since-. Max put his hand out toward her in a stopping motion, and she paused, looking startled. “Oh, uh, Maria…actually, do you think you could just hang out here for a few minutes? Make yourself at home. There’s some food on that table over there,” Max pointed into the corner as he drug Michael out of the room. PART EIGHT Maria looked around the hotel suite. Now what? She was about to sit down on the sofa when the door of the room was flung open. A tall dark haired man in a tuxedo walked in followed by two others dressed similarly. “Oh, hi,” the tall one said looking at her with a smile. “Who are you?” “I’m Maria,” she said with a smile. “Maria Valenti.” “Hey, Alex,” one of the other guys said, “we’re going to run downstairs and check in with the minister.” “Ok, thanks guys,” Alex said as they left. He turned back to her, “I’m Alex Whitman. Take it you’re here for the wedding?” Nodding, Maria laughed slightly and pointed at his attire, “I take it you are too?” He laughed and walked over to the table of food picking up an éclair, and wiggling his eyebrows as he took a bite, “Oh, yeah. That’s why I’m here.” Maria laughed, and he laughed a little harder and accidentally squeezed the éclair too hard. Some of the filling fell down onto the lapel of his jacket. Alex looked down in horror. “Oh no. She’ll kill me.” “Who?” Maria asked. “Isabel. My bride. She.Will. Kill me.” Maria pursed her lips and walked over to him grabbing a napkin and wiping up the majority of the cream. There was still a large grease spot that was highly visible. “Uh, let’s get this into the bathroom,” she said helping him shrug out of the jacket. *** “Maxwell, I do not see what you think I’m going to do. I can almost guarantee that I’m the last person she will want to see right now. Besides, I say if she doesn’t want to get married, don’t make her.” “Look, Michael,” Max said, glancing around to make sure no one was in the hall as they stepped off the elevator, “she does want to marry him. She’s just sort of forgotten that fact. I’ve managed to keep my mom away, and Alex has no idea, but it’s going to be pretty obvious to everyone if they play ‘Here comes the Bride’ and no one walks down the aisle.” “Don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Michael muttered. “She keeps talking about you. And, how something isn’t right, and she isn’t honest enough. That he’s too good for her…I don’t know what to do with her. Just talk to her, please. It can’t hurt anything.” Michael raised his eyebrows at Max, “It can’t hurt anything? How do you know I won’t just make things worse?” Max pulled him into a hotel room, then led him down a hall and opened a door to what must the bedroom, turning, his friend whispered a plea, “Just go in there and get her to snap out of it. I’ve tried everything, you’re my last hope. You don’t know Alex, he’s a really sensitive guy, it would kill him if I had to go tell him she won’t go through with it.” Shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he walked into the room, Michael hissed, “Trying to get me to feel sorry for him is not going to help your cause.” He looked around as soon as Max shut the door behind him. The room was almost dark, lit only by a small lamp on a table near the bed, quietly, hoping she wasn’t there, he whispered into the darkness, “Iz?” There was no answer. He walked to the middle of the room and felt a cold breeze. The balcony. He walked out and found her standing there in her white gown with it’s enormous skirt looking like she was in an ad for a dress designer. “Hey,” he said, walking up to her. “Michael?” her voice was soft, and she didn’t turn around. “Yeah.” “I-I can’t do it.” She sounded scared. He didn’t know if he’d ever really heard her sound like that. “Can’t do what?” “I can’t marry him. He deserves much better than me,” her voice cracked. “ You know that.” “What are you talking about? I think pretty much everyone agrees it doesn’t get much better than you,” he said, nudging her arm to get her to look at him. “Michael, I’ve never been completely honest with him. I told him that you and I were broken up when we started things,” she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He’d never really known for sure, he’d never really seen the guy’s face, “So, it was him?” Nodding, she laughed dryly and turned away from him. “And, I had just met him when I found out about…I knew I wanted something else, and I was afraid that if I told you somehow you’d talk me into keeping it…” He let out a sharp gasp and turned away from her. Well, there was the truth finally…two years after the fact. “Don’t hate me. Please, Michael,” her voice sounded beside him. “If I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have-.” [/i]You’re supposed to be comforting her, you’re supposed to be comforting her, you’re supposed to be comforting her…[/i] “It’s not like I was some one night stand, Isabel. For God’s sake, you’d known me all your life. No matter who you wanted to be with, I would have been there, I would have done anything-.” Her hand was on his arm, trying to turn him around, “I know that, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair, I know. If it helps, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. No matter how I look at it…that just wasn’t the answer. Please, tell me you don’t hate me.” She was still pulling on him, so he turned to look at her. He looked at her pleading face and felt sorry, he got it now. It wasn’t her fault he’d reacted to all of it the way he had. If he had an ounce of maturity… “Iz, I don’t hate you. Could never hate you,” he reached up to touch her cheek. Letting a tiny sob escape, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. He held her, trying not to mess up her hair or make-up, she’d always hated that. This wasn’t easy for him. It still hurt, but she needed to move on, and she needed his help to do it. He owed her that much. “Thank you, Michael,” she whispered as she pulled back. “Yeah. So, now, are you ready for this whole wedding thing?” She shook her head sharply, “I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” “ No. I can’t.” “Isabel-. “No. He deserves someone better than me. Someone who will always be honest with him, who’d never hurt him.” “Do you want to hurt him?” “No.” “ Will you hurt him?” “No, never.” “Then, what’s the problem? As long as you’re willing to do everything you can to make things right between you-.” “I haven’t been honest with him.” “Be honest with him later. I don’t think it will make much difference to him anyway. Has more to do with you and me than it does him.” “No, I can’t, it isn’t right.” “Look, Isabel. You want this guy, want to marry him, you’re having a family with him…and he, well, it’s pretty obvious he’s completely gone for you. You’ll wind up together anyway, so why delay things by leaving him standing at the altar?” “Ok.” “Ok,” he said, turning to leave. “Uh, bye…” she called after him. He walked toward the elevators, and when he was inside one he slumped against the wall trying to pull himself together. The last thing he’d ever expected to do at Isabel’s wedding was try to get her to walk down the aisle and into the arms of another man. *** “Ugh, why couldn’t they just have regular old donuts? No, it had to be éclairs,” Alex groaned as Maria dabbed at the lapel of the jacket. She had laid his black coat out carefully on the bathroom counter, trying her best with the large grease spot while Alex sat on the toilet seat with his head in his hands. “Hey, if this is the worst thing that happens on your wedding day you should be thanking your lucky stars,” she said, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, but things were going perfectly,” he said looking up at her. “Don’t worry so much,” she giggled. “It’s just a jacket.” “You don’t know Isabel. She’ll notice, and then I’ll feel awful. I just want things to be perfect, the way that she wants them. I have been waiting for this for so long.” Maria shot him a big grin, “I think your Isabel is probably thanking her lucky stars that she found such a great guy. Trust me, she won’t notice the stain. She’ll be rejoicing that she has you, instead of being a typical groom who’s ready to chicken out at the last minute – I mean look at you, you can’t wait to say ‘I do’.” “Well, I love her,” he said, a dreamy look coming over his face. “That is so adorable, Alex,” Maria said as she pressed down hard on the spot with the towel, trying to dry it. “Now, why don’t you go get yourself a drink of water or something, to make sure your throat doesn’t get dry.” “Ok,” he said as he stood and walked out into the other room. She was still blotting when he came back in the bathroom, and he was starting to look worried again, so she decided to try to take his mind off it by talking about what she guessed was his favorite subject, “So, tell me how you met Isabel.” “Oh, well, I was here for a conference, and I ran out of underwear,” he paused and shook his head laughing at himself. “Anyway, I had to go shopping, and she was there, and I noticed her – ok, I was watching her. Well, she accidentally left one of her bags after she sat it down on the floor to look at a sweater. So, I picked it up and chased her down, and we wound up having lunch together.” “Wow, so it was love at first sight?” she asked, looking up at him in the mirror. “Sort of,” he scrunched up his nose. “We got off to a pretty steamy start, but she was in the middle of a break-up, and I think she started to feel weird about moving on. Anyway, we broke things off and did the ‘friends’ thing for a while before we got back together again.” “Well, that sounds like a good thing. I mean, if you had time to develop the friendship…well, isn’t that what they always say is best?” “Yeah. I guess,” he said. “Didn’t think so at the time, though, because I was in New York and she was here…she kept calling me, because she was having a tough time with her ex…well, when I finally convinced her to get back together with me things were great – she moved east to be with me and everything.” “Oh that’s sweet,” she said, looking closely at the stain. It looked like she’d nearly done it. “Well, let that be a lesson to you. Tough times have always strengthened your relationship – so you can live through the éclair stain.” He laughed, “Yeah, I guess.” She knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help herself, “So, I bet you wanted to punch out her ex as much as you wanted to flush the éclair, huh?” “Huh? Well, yeah. I don’t know. Everyone is always telling me that he’s misunderstood and high strung,” Alex shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t like what it did to Izzy, but I guess break-up’s are never easy. It’s kind of tough, though, because he’s like a member of their family still. I mean he spent Thanksgiving with us for crying out loud.” Maria didn’t know if he was talking about Michael or not. It didn’t sound like it. They heard the door of the suite open, and Alex stood, “I’ll go see who that is.” Pulling up the towel she’d been using to clean the jacket, Maria grinned. The spot was basically non-existent. She stepped out of the bathroom and practically ran down the hall, “Alex, look! It’s all better, now.” *** Michael walked in the room and went to sit down on the sofa, hoping to finish calming himself before he found her. Alex walked in from the hallway. Michael looked up at him, and saw the surprise on the man’s face. “Alex, look! It’s all better, now.” Michael turned and could just see around Alex. There she was, holding up a black suit jacket. Alex walked toward her and inspected the front of it, then grinned, “Maria! You’re my savior!” He smiled and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek, then a bear hug. Michael was on his feet in a flash, and tried to keep the venom out of his voice, “You ready?” Maria looked startled when she looked at him, then her head moved to the side as if she was confused. Slowly, she walked over to him and then looked up meeting his eyes, “D-do you know Alex?” He didn’t look up at Alex, but nodded down at her, thinking, ‘Yeah, I know him. He’s already got Isabel…’ “We’ve met,” Alex interrupted his train of thought. Looking up at him, Michael nodded briefly, then turned back to Maria. She was looking at him, looking him in the eyes, she seemed concerned, and her hand squeezed his arm lightly. “Well, we’ve only got about twenty minutes. We should be going, I suppose?” she asked him. In response, he nodded. She smiled at Alex as Michael led her to the door, “Good luck, Alex.” “Thanks! I owe ya’ one,” Alex replied. In the elevator she turned to face him, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look very well.” “I had to…do something,” he looked down into her eyes. Those eyes. She’d never looked at him so much, not even that night… “Are you all right?” she asked, searching his face. “Yeah…” he wanted to look away from her, but couldn’t. The elevator doors opened, and snapped him out of his daze. He led her out and they stopped to check her coat before walking into the ballroom where both the ceremony and the reception would take place. It seemed that most of the guests were already there, the seats were nearly all filled. An usher led them up to the second row and Michael was irritated to notice several men’s eyes on her. Possessively, he placed an open hand on her back as she stepped into the row and sat down, leaving him the aisle seat. *** Maria looked over at him, wondering what to do. He didn’t look very well at all. It was the same look he’d had that night…Like he was ready to wretch but was using all of his strength to hold it back. She was beginning to get an idea of what the situation with Isabel was, and she knew that seeing Alex had been the last thing he needed. It was strange to think of anything affecting him, he always seemed so cold, but now…Well, no it really wasn’t that obvious that something was bothering him – maybe you just had to know him. Not that she knew him, really. Liz and Max were seated in the front row and kept glancing back to look at them. Maria ignored them, but she caught Michael giving them a glare. He was probably irritated at what Max had come up with for date material. Alex and his two groomsmen walked in from a side door with the minister and stepped up onto the raised dais that had been laid out with what seemed like thousands of candles and flowers. The lights dimmed as strains of music from the string quartet in the corner filled the room. Two bridesmaids and a flower girl made their way up the aisle, then everyone stood to watch the bride and her father. Maria couldn’t make out her face, because she was wearing a veil, but the dress she was wearing was stunning. It was strapless and the skirt was large, it looked fairytale chic. Isabel obviously had a near perfect figure, and Maria couldn’t help but lay her right arm across her waist to grip her left arm, in an attempt to cover herself. As the woman and her father passed, Maria got a good look at her. She couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath, it was the woman she’d seen outside his apartment that night. So, this was the ex. Max’s sister. Alex’s love. Isabel. Maria was sure she saw the blonde’s eyes flick briefly to Michael as she passed. If only there were some dark corner she could hide in. She didn’t want to be here, and she didn’t want to be with him. Now it was obvious just how different they were, how ridiculous her feelings were. Most likely he was embarrassed to be seen with her, he was way out of her league. Throughout the ceremony, Maria managed to stay calm, letting her mind wander to happier thoughts, like watching Abby unwrap her presents that morning, or Kyle pressing a wrapped plain paper copy of his manuscript into her hands with a wink. Before she knew it, it was over, Alex was kissing his new wife, and the audience was sighing happily. She turned to Michael who had been sitting absolutely still though the entire thing. His eyes appeared to be completely focused on the happy couple, but with closer inspection, she realized that his gaze was most likely on the tall arrangement of flowers that stood behind the minister. After the wedding party had exited, the guests began to trickle across the hall to the banquet hall, where an informal meal was being served, and a dance floor was set up. Max and Liz walked over to them and asked them to join them at a table. Michael simply nodded, and they followed the other two and sat next to one another at the round table. Liz and Max were discussing the wedding. “Well, actually, Isabel thinks this is small. There are only 150 guests,” Max said to Liz. “Small? That seems big to me,” Liz laughed. Michael sucked in a deep breath, and started looking around the room with a bored look on his face as Liz and Max continued their conversation. She watched him carefully. He was agitated. Probably hoping no one he knew saw him with her. “I’m going to go powder my nose,” she said to no one in particular as she stood and left the table without a backward glance. *** “So, was this your bright idea?” Michael asked Liz, interrupting her conversation, as soon as Maria was away from the table. Max and Liz both looked at him. “What?” Max asked. “This. The set-up,” he hissed leaning closer to Max. “Setting me up with a girl who can’t stand me.” Liz laughed and Max smiled. Shaking her head, Liz spoke, “I think she can stand you, Michael.” “Why, did she tell you something?” he asked her suspiciously. Liz looked at him strangely, “No. What are you talking about?” “Nothing. I’m going to get a drink.” He got up and walked away from them and made his way over to the bar on the far wall. Leaning against the bar as he waited for the bartender to take his order, he saw her re-enter the room. She moved with her usual light steps, but something about the lighting, or that dress made her movements seems sensual, interesting. First she stopped at their table, and apparently after being told where he was, started walking toward him, weaving between the tables set-up in the room. More than one pair of eyes turned her way, and it infuriated him. “Can’t really blame you for wanting to escape the drool twins,” she said as she stood at his side looking back at Max and Liz who were engrossed in each other. He laughed out loud, and she turned to him, looking startled. Biting the inside of his cheek, he looked down at her, “I do have a sense of humor.” “Yeah…” she looked away. “Look, if you want to go, I understand, I mean…well, I know you wouldn’t have agreed to this if you’d known…” “Known what? I don’t want to go anywhere.” “Ok…” The bartender spoke behind him, “What can I get ya’?” “Scotch, rocks,” he said turning his head briefly to look at the man. “What about me?” she asked him after the bartender had turned to get his drink. “Are you even legal?” Michael asked, looking down at her. She smirked, “Yes.” “All right, do you want something?” Blushing, she looked at her hands, “Not really.” “Ok,” he said, looking back at Max and Liz. The lights flickered, and he looked up to see Alex and Isabel walking in the door hand in hand. Most of the people in the room clapped, but he just watched. The veil Isabel had been wearing was gone, revealing her hair piled high on her head as he’d seen it earlier. They walked to the dance floor, where the lights dimmed and music began to play, then was joined with the sound of Etta James’s voice hummed out over a hidden sound system. “At last…my love has come along…my lonely days are over…and life is like a song…” Michael looked down at Maria. She was staring at the dancing couple with a sweet smile on her face, watching them sway in time to the music. “Oh yeah, yeah…At last…the stars above are blue…my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you…” He watched as she pressed her palms together and interlaced her own fingers, then pulled her clasped hands up to her lips as her green eyes glimmered while they stared at the dance floor. “I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own…” “Beautiful,” she sighed. He stared at her, and whispered, “Yeah…” “…I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known…” “I love this part of weddings,” she whispered back, never taking her eyes from the dance floor. “Oh yeah, yeah…You smiled, you smiled…” Something made him want to reach down and grasp her face between his hands, and still those luscious lips that were now silently singing along. “…Oh and then the spell was cast…” He watched her melt as Alex whispered something in Isabel’s ear, which she replied to with a nod and a smile. Her head tilted to the side, and her eyes took on a dreamy quality. “…and here we are in heaven, for you are my ‘At last’…” Sighing slowly, she dropped her hands in front of her and bit her bottom lip. Michael tried to compose himself as the last strains of music faded away. What the hell was that? Getting all gooey over some sappy old song…It was a wedding. Everyone gets sappy at weddings. Maria followed him as they made their way back to the table. Liz immediately asked her to go to the ladies’ room with her, and Maria complied. “Thank you, for talking to Isabel,” Max said with a serious look on his face, “I don’t know what you said, but-.” “Don’t mention it,” Michael said sharply, meaning exactly that. “Ok…so, things seem to be going well with Maria, huh?” Michael gave his friend a withering look, “Shut up.” Max looked angry, “You know, she happens to be a wonderful girl. I mean when Liz told me everything about her taking care of Kyle and Abby, I was-.” “Who are Kyle and Abby?” “Her brother and his daughter. Don’t you know? You’ve been hanging around that coffee shop for as long as she has, haven’t you?” “Yeah, so?” “Well, haven’t you ever had a conversation with her?” Max asked incredulously. “No. Oh, well, I guess we might have had one tonight. In the car.” “ My God. I just figured that with all of the looks and the tension that…I don’t know…” “No, you don’t know,” Michael said raising his eyebrows. “Now, what about her brother and his daughter?” “Her brother was in a construction accident, I think it was more than a year ago, anyway he’s just now starting to recover – still can’t really walk. But, that’s not really even the worst part. A few days after he had the accident, his wife left him and their daughter. So, Maria had to drop out of school to help take care of the little girl, and then she had to get a job-.” “And work fourteen hours a day,” Michael said softly. “Well, yeah, I guess.” “Miss us?” Liz asked as she and Maria approached the table. “Of course,” Max smiled at her. Michael looked up at Maria. She was watching him, but looked away when he caught her eyes. Silently, without looking at him again, she took her seat beside him. So, there it was – the truth. She was perfect. “It looks like all of the traditional dances are over…” Liz winked at Max. “I suppose you’re hoping someone will ask you to dance?” Max asked her. “Well, yes, I am…You wouldn’t know anyone who’s available, would you?” Liz said with a sly smile. “Yes, as a matter of fact-.” “Oh, good grief, just dance already,” Maria said with false exasperation, softening it at the end with a small grin. The pair looked at her, and then gave slightly embarrassed laughs as they stood and walked to the floor. “Thank you,” Michael said, glancing at her sideways. “Believe me, I did for all mankind.” He snorted. Had she always been this funny? Looking over at her, he mulled over his knew found knowledge. Well, he’d known for a while that his original assumptions about her were incorrect, but he’d never guessed anything close to the truth. She was a poster child for good people everywhere. Making a face as she drank the last of her soda, she looked around, presumably for a waiter. There wasn’t one nearby. “Want me to get you another one?” he asked, gesturing at her empty glass. Her eyes widened in surprise, “Yes, thank you.” He stood and walked over to the bar, and laid a five on out on the counter so that he wouldn’t have to wait for the bartender’s attention. Within seconds, he had a new glass of cola and was on his way back to the table, when he saw that there was someone at their table talking to her. A guy. Moving faster, he reached them just in time to hear the man say, “…so, I thought to myself, that little lady should be dancing. Care to?” Her smile was polite as she looked up at the man. “Maybe you should go hit on someone else’s date,” Michael said. The guy looked up at him, startled, “Sorry, didn’t know she was taken.” Michael narrowed his eyes, and the guy smiled quickly down at Maria, then walked away. He sat down and put the glass in front of her. Her lips were pursed, and he could tell that she wasn’t happy. Well, he wasn’t going to stand by and watch some sleaze grope her. He didn’t notice when Alex walked up to their table, “Maria, I was hoping for a dance with the girl who saved the day.” She smiled at him and stood immediately, “Love to.” Michael watched them walk away and swore under his breath. *** “The wedding was beautiful,” Maria said, smiling at Alex. “It was, wasn’t it? Can’t take credit, it was all Isabel’s ‘vision’.” They laughed. “So, Maria, I’m curious, why didn’t you tell me to shut up when I started going off about Isabel’s ‘ex’ - who just happens to be your date?” “Oh, well, I wasn’t sure which ex you meant,” she said. “I don’t really know anything about them other than that they were once together.” “Really? Doesn’t he talk about her?” “I don’t know, really,” Maria blushed and looked down. “Ok,” Alex said looking at her strangely. “Well, do you have any idea why he was in the room earlier?” “Oh, Mrs. Evans wanted him to leave his gift in there. She was afraid it was too valuable to be left out with the others.” “Really? Wonder what it is…” She laughed slightly, “Oh, it’s a painting, I’m pretty sure. Maybe it’s a portrait of Isabel or something.” “I doubt that,” Alex said, “I asked Izzy once if she didn’t have a bunch of paintings of her laying around somewhere since they’d been together so long, and she said he doesn’t paint anyone he knows.” “So, he does landscapes, or what?” Maria was interested, even though she knew who he was, she had absolutely no idea what his work was like. “No, he paints people, but only strangers,” Alex shrugged. “How long did they go out?” “It was a little more than going out, they were together for three years after he was done with school.” “Wow, I had no idea,” she said softly, then looked up at him. “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. It’s your wedding day and I’m discussing her ex.” He laughed, “It’s no big deal. So, I take it you haven’t known him long?” “Oh, I’ve known him for a while, just not very well.” “Hmm. Well, I hope he deserves you.” Maria laughed nervously, “It’s nothing like that. Really…” “You don’t have to explain,” he said, looking embarrassed. The song ended, and Maria noticed that the bride was walking, no gliding, toward them. Alex wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, “Isabel, I want to introduce Maria Valenti.” Isabel furrowed her brow, “You seem very familiar to me.” Maria blushed, hoping she wouldn’t remember that the last time she’d seen her she was delivering food to Michael. “I just have one of those faces,” Maria said with a small smile. Smiling, Isabel nodded, “Well, nice to meet you.” Maria smiled. “Alex, honey, the coordinator is insisting that we do cake and toasts now,” she said looking at her husband who was gripping her tightly still. “Whatever you say,” Alex said looking deeply into her eyes. Feeling embarrassed, Maria looked away. They were so in love it was overwhelming. “Well, have a great night, I’m going to go sit back down,” she said, smiling in Alex’s direction. “Ok,” Alex returned the smile, “and thanks again. You’re great in a crisis.” She giggled slightly then walked back to her seat next to Michael, who looked upset again. *** He watched her as she danced with Alex. She was smiling, like she was enjoying herself, and he couldn’t help but stare. “You’re Michael Guerin, aren’t you?” the woman on sitting at their table on the other side of Maria’s chair asked. “Uh, yeah…” “I just love your work,” the woman plastered a smile on her face. “It’s absolutely fascinating.” He hated these types. Right now, he wanted to tell the woman to take a flying leap. She’d probably never spent more than five seconds looking at his stuff. “Thanks.” “So, tell me, do you always let your emotions flow through your work? Do you see it as an outlet, or do you see it as a catalyst?” He stared at the woman. Was she serious? What an ignorant, pretentious-. When he didn’t answer, she spoke again, “Well, for instance, do you paint to show love, or do you feel love when you paint?” She didn’t have to explain her stupid question, he understood her. This was getting annoying and he wanted to get away. He used his best ‘you’re annoying me’ tone, “I don’t believe in love.” Instead of taking the hint, the woman looked more intrigued, and started babbling about her own feelings on the subject. He ignored her and looked over at the dance floor, Maria said something to Isabel and Alex, then walked back and sat next to him. *** Maria tried to act polite as the woman spoke to Michael as if she wasn’t even there. “…so, I suppose I can understand why people would say they don’t believe in love.” “Really?” Maria turned to the woman, enjoying the irritated look on her face that it was Maria and not Michael who was listening to her. “I think saying that you don’t believe in love is silly. If you believe that you feel anything at all, you have to feel love. Anger, jealousy, sorrow, rejection – if you believe you feel any of them, you have to believe that you feel love.” The woman gave her an eye roll and then fixed her eyes on Michael. Maria turned to look at him as well. He was staring at her intensely, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. She hadn’t meant to step on his toes, she’d thought he was completely ignoring the woman. Raising her eyebrows at him, she shrugged and took a sip of her cola. He picked up his empty tumbler glass, “I need another one of these, you wanna’…” he jerked his head toward the bar. She was surprised he was inviting her along. Maybe he didn’t want to leave her alone with the woman to embarrass him in his absence. Nodding, she rose and they walked over to the bar. Just as the bartender turned their way, the lights flickered and a voice over the loudspeaker said that it was time for the toasts. Maria looked to her right, and saw that the man with the microphone was actually the best man, standing behind Alex and Isabel just a few feet away from the bar. Everyone in the room quieted as first the best man, and then the maid of honor gave their best wishes to the bride and groom. She looked up at Michael and saw that he was staring blankly at the star couple. After the first two toasts, Alex grabbed the microphone, and Maria couldn’t help but smile at his obvious discomfort with doing so. “Uh, Isabel and I would like to thank everyone for coming,” Alex smiled at his wife and reached for her hand. “This is a really special day for us, made even more so by a certain upcoming event. And, even though I’m sure some of you would say we’ve got it a little bit backwards, we’re expecting baby to make three in about seven months.” Several people in the crowd whooped and clapped, and Alex kissed Isabel on the cheek as he handed the microphone off to someone else. Maria was surprised that Isabel wasn’t looking at Alex after they started to walk back to the dance floor, she was looking at…Maria glanced up…Isabel was looking at Michael, and he was looking back. His face had taken on the same look of illness from earlier, and the color seemed to drain from him. This look of his always seemed to get to her, so reached out and laid her hand on his arm. He looked down at her and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if he knew who she was. Something was very wrong, and obviously it had to do with Isabel… “Do you want to go?” she asked him quietly. Michael’s eyes darted around quickly, and then he looked back at her, giving her an almost imperceptible nod. He didn’t move, just stayed in the same position half leaned on the bar. She wondered if he would be able to stand on his own. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and led him out of the room. Without a word, he followed her, but his grip on her hand was almost painful. Stopping quickly at the coatroom, she picked up her own coat and remembered that he’d left his in the car. While she was doing this, he simply stood behind her, staring off into space. PART NINE He let her lead him out the door of the hotel. They stopped in front of the valet sign, and she looked up at him. Not knowing what she wanted, he looked down at her. Her eyes grew wider and she pursed her lips as she reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the ticket. Handing it to the valet, she squeezed his hand again and moved closer to his side as they waited for his car. When it came, she walked to the driver’s side and got in. He hesitated, then got in on the passenger side, unsure why she was driving, unsure why she had noticed that he was upset, unsure why she was being so kind to him... Quickly, she slipped off her shoes and set them on the floor of the back seat, and then pulled the seat forward and adjusted the mirrors. He looked out the window, and through the glass doors of the hotel, he could just make out the sign, ‘Evans/Whitman Wedding’. So, she was married. Isabel was married, and was having a baby, and none of it included him. It was only a few moments ago that he realized that he’d always secretly thought it would. Somehow, despite everything, he’d always imagined that someday it would be the two of them. Now that image that had been secretly hidden in his mind had been completely purged. He and Isabel were over, so over, long over. He could sense her nervousness. She was like a tight ball of energy in the seat next to him. Glancing over at her, he saw her looking at him. Her green eyes were wide, and she was biting her lower lip. Worry. She was worried about him. Her breath seemed to catch, and he could hear the small strangled sound in her throat. She wanted to speak. “I…That, I mean-, well it’s none of my business…but…the baby, it’s not yours…?” her voice was barely audible as she asked the question. Breathing out sharply through his nose, he shook his head, “Not this time.” “Oh…” she looked straight ahead. Turning, he stared out the window again. He nearly jumped when he felt her hand curl around his own on his thigh. Looking first at her hand, and then at her, he felt his breath catch. “Why?” he asked her. She glanced at him, looking confused, “Why what?” “Why me?” Her brow furrowed and she swallowed hard, “I-I’m not sure-.” “You know what I’m talking about,” he said, turning in his seat to study her face. “I…” she closed her eyes briefly, then quickly opened them and focused on the road. They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive. He was surprised when she stopped in front of his place. She should have gone to her building, he could have driven three blocks on his own. He watched as she reached into the back seat and grabbed her shoes, then slipped them on her feet. Her movement fascinated him. Shoes on, she opened her door and hopped out, then walked to his side and opened his door. Doors, car doors. He hadn’t opened hers for her tonight. She waited as he got out, and then followed him into the building to his door. Looking at the keys in her hand, he could see her mentally working out which ones opened the door. Her first guess was correct, and suddenly they were inside. Switching on the entryway light, she closed the door after him and stood next to it hesitantly. “Why don’t you go get some rest?” her voice was soft, and concerned. “You can’t walk home alone.” “I can. I’ll be fine. I mean, I did it for a year and a half.” He looked into her eyes, “That was before.” She seemed bothered by his words, and looked down at her feet, “I’ll just hang out here for a little while, then. No one’s home at my place anyway.” The way she was standing, wearing her beautiful dress, but with her eyes downcast… “Make yourself at home,” he said as he walked over to the staircase. He went to his bedroom and decided to take her advice. Looking at the door, he considered closing it, but decided there wasn’t really a point. Quickly, he stripped and left his suit draped over the easy chair in the corner, threw back the covers, then plopped on his bed in his boxers. A little bit of light came into the room through the door, which was open to the room below. Listening carefully, he heard her moving around. First, he heard her use the phone and leave a message saying “Don’t know when or if I’ll be home, so don’t worry.” After the phone call, he heard the bottles inside the door of his refrigerator rattle, and knew she had opened it. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of a plastic seal breaking and knew she’d gotten herself a bottle of water. Next, he heard paper pages being turned, and decided it had to be the Rolling Stone he’d left out on the counter in the kitchen. Closing his eyes, he pictured her downstairs, with a bottle of water in her hand, leaning over the counter while she flipped through a magazine, with her long hair down around her shoulders and that red dress clinging to her tightly. His eyes flew open when he heard his stereo come on. He’d had the volume up high, and she turned it down quickly, then switched it from the cd player to the radio and flipped through several stations before settling on some sort of easy 80’s rock station. Not something he’d normally put up with listening, but if it was what she wanted…Reaching up behind his head, he flipped on the overhead speakers above his bed to hear the music better. The next sound he heard made his breath catch in his throat. She was climbing the stairs. Lacing his hands underneath his head, he tried to act casual. It wasn’t a big deal to have a girl in his house, and he tried to make himself remember that when he saw her silhouetted in his doorway. Leaning against the doorframe and fingering it hesitantly, he knew she was just there to check on him, still worried because of the reaction she’d seen him have earlier. He was afraid she’d ask him how he was feeling. How could he explain that his reaction had been the end of pain and not the beginning of it? Maybe it wasn’t necessary… No, it definitely wasn’t necessary. She was just the waitress… …The sainted waitress who sacrificed everything for her family, and worked like a slave, who had inspired him to do more work than he ever had, and whose every action seemed to fascinate him. …Just the waitress who’d seen something in him that had shown through her eyes for a few minutes while she was beneath him, and who he’d been dreaming about getting back into his bedroom ever since the moment she last left it… *** Maria stood in his doorway, watching him. She tried to tell herself that she was just making sure he was all right, but she knew why she was there. He was watching her, and his eyes were smoldering, and she knew he wanted her. It wasn’t surprising. He’s in pain, and a girl comes to his bedroom, offering herself to him – ‘any port in a storm’, of course he wouldn’t refuse. She should refuse. Walk away, not look back. It wasn’t worth it, she’d done this before… She needed to turn herself around and walk away. This wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was stupid to jump into this just to have an excuse not to face up to the fact that her life was changing. There were things she needed to do, the last thing she needed was to complicate things further. So, she’d made the mistake once, she could live with it and move on, but again…No. She looked up at him, determined to leave, then she saw his face… No, no, no… Clenching her hands into fists, she walked to his bedside and sat down carefully on the edge, reaching her hand out to put it on his forehead. He grabbed her wrist with his fingers and sat up to face her. His eyes seared her, he was so close that she could feel his breath hot against her mouth as it escaped through his barely parted lips. If only he hadn’t looked like that, if only he hadn’t shown any weakness. It was too much. He was too strong, and a strong man in pain was irresistible. It was textbook. This pull, this undeniable attraction to him. She couldn’t escape it. Every moment she was with him, she felt it, and the more she ignored it the more powerful it was. They were frozen, almost touching, and she knew what he was waiting for. So, she closed her eyes, and leaned into him as his mouth closed on hers. His hands buried themselves in her hair as he sent shivers up her spine with his lips. She ran her fingers up his bare back and then back down again, and she lost herself in the feeling of his kiss, moaning softly into his mouth as his tongue explored hers. The passion of the kiss fanned her smoldering desire into dancing flames, and she gripped his shoulders hard as he bit at her neck. Eventually, he moved her to her feet and turned to put his feet on the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed. His fingers found the zipper of her dress and slipped it down and the garment off before she even knew what was happening. He pulled her down for a kiss as he ran his hands around the skin of her waist making her shiver, then moved them up to unhook her strapless bra which he peeled away. She threw her head back as he pulled out of the kiss and moved his lips to her breast, softly teasing her nipple with his lips until she was gasping and then taking it into his mouth fully and grazing it with his teeth, making her cry out and dig her fingernails into his back. He knew how to touch her. Everywhere, every inch of her skin that he touched felt white hot, and his lips seemed to make her nerves scream. She lost herself completely to his hands, his lips, his skin. When he slipped her small panties off she barely noticed, but when he began to stroke her lower lips with his fingers, she became extremely aware, thrusting her pelvis into his hand as he moved his fingers inside her, occasionally teasing the small bundle of nerves that made her shudder. When the need became an unbearable ache, she reached down to remove his underwear but found they were already gone, so she pulled his head away from the place he’d been kissing her neck and told him with her eyes what she needed. She’d expected him to lay her on the bed but instead he pulled her tightly to him, so that she was straddling his hips, resting her knees on the bed. Then, he put one hand on her hip and guided her down until she felt him pressing into her entrance. He gripped her tightly and stopped her when she tried to impale herself on him too quickly, making her take him in slowly. God, it was amazing. There was a little pain, but nothing like the first time. She continued to push down slowly and felt herself stretching, widening to accommodate him. Her eyes were open, and she watched as his breathing became uneven and his head moved back slightly. It felt unbelievable having him inside her, and she felt a tightness in her throat as though she were on the verge of a sob. Slowly, she rocked forward and upwards, and watched as his eyes fluttered and he gasped. Still watching his reactions, she moved down again, this time a little more sharply, and he let out a moan that was almost a whimper. Maria paused, lost in the wonder of what she was doing to him, and his eyes finally focused on hers and then gained an intense look as his hands found their way to her hips, urging her into a slow, steady rhythm. *** She was driving him crazy. He couldn’t take much more. No matter how many times he told himself that he needed to let her do this her own way, he was constantly fighting the urge to throw her down on the bed. He needed more of her, he needed to get deeper. This was torture. It was all he could do to keep from screaming. God, she was so tight, so wet, so perfect, and the noises she made…The soft mews, the throaty gasps, the moans, the low groans. He was so turned on, so hard… Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he felt her hot breath as she sighed into his ear. It was killing him, a slow burn. He pulled back and was about to move her when he saw the look in her eyes. Those eyes. That look she was giving him, like he was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. “Why?” he gasped as she rocked slowly down on him, the feeling of her sliding onto him making him want to scream for more, do something to control her tortuous rhythm. She stared at him, pressing her forehead against his as she continued the rocking. “Why?” he asked, unable to keep the pleading from his voice as he thrust his hips up into her, making her eyes roll back for a moment, and eliciting a raspy moan from her throat. Unable to stand it for another second, he lifted her off of him, and she looked down at him desperately. Quickly, he stood and picked her up, laying her down on the bed and then laying down on top of her. He was about to thrust into her as she looked up at him with those smoky eyes, when he remembered that she hadn’t answered him. “Why?” he asked again, his voice stronger this time. She took in a sharp breath, and her eyes flickered away from him. It was obvious she wasn’t going to answer, so he pulled her legs apart and buried himself in her hard and fast, unable to stop the loud groan from escaping his lips. Her back arched and she let out a cry at his re-entrance, and he looked down at her as he began to move inside her to see that she was staring at him again, barely able to keep her eyes open. “Because I love you,” she said in a strangled whisper as her hands gripped his upper arms tightly. Michael stopped and pulled out. More because of the constricting pain in his chest than her words. She was young, she didn’t really know what she was saying. The pain in his chest had become an ache, and he watched as her eyes closed and she moved under him, begging him to thrust into her again. After another moment he did, burying his face in her neck, reveling in the smell of her, the feel of her, the taste of her. The feeling in his chest had dissipated throughout his body, and it seemed as though it was present in every pore. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t know why it was – if he were somewhere else, he could paint it, but right now, he was inside her and there was nowhere else he wanted to be. Needing an outlet for the emotion, and unable to think of another, he began to speak it in the only word that came to mind, “Maria…” At the sound of her name on his lips, her eyes flew open and she looked up at him. She was writhing beneath him, making him crazy, and he said it again, “ Maria…” He was moving too fast, and he was close to the edge - he was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t be able to hold out long enough for her when he felt her come violently beneath him, crying his name, “ Michael.” Her walls tightened around him, fluxing, making his vision cloud, “Maria…Maria… Maria…Oh God. MARIA!” Michael squeezed his eyes shut as he emptied himself into her, savoring the moment as he thrust his few last times. When he opened her eyes, he saw her looking up at him, searching. This had happened before. She’d seen something afterward that changed that look in her eyes. He wasn’t going to let it happen again, so he leaned down and kissed her, tenderly but firmly. Now, she wouldn’t have a chance to think about leaving. *** Maria answered his kiss passionately, still riding the high of her climax. It was overpowering, he was over powering. He was still buried deep inside her, and she felt him shifting his weight and pulling out while carefully continuing the kiss. Now, he was laying beside her, his hand on her cheek, kissing her senseless. When he pulled away, she tried to catch her breath, staring at his face. He wouldn’t take his eyes off her, as if he thought she’d disappear if he did. She reached up to caress his cheek the way he was caressing hers. They stayed that way for a few moments, then she tried to get up to go to the bathroom. His arms were around her instantly, pulling her gently back. “I-I have to…” she looked at him with a small smile. He looked at her carefully, then released her. She stood, and feeling embarrassed of her nudity, she grabbed her dress off the floor and held it in front of her. Let him get a look at her bare ass, not like he hadn’t seen it before. When she exited the bathroom, she was surprised to see him standing right in front of the door. His eyes raked up and down her body, he was obviously not happy that she was dressed again. Walking into the bathroom still completely nude, he shut the door behind him and locked it, then wrapped his arms around her, gripping her waist. She gave in to his kiss, but pulled back in protest when he started to unzip her dress. He nipped at her jaw and neck to distract her as he removed the garment for the second time that night. Once it was off, he pulled back and grabbed her hand to lead her into the shower. When he turned the knob, the heat of the water made her jump and he moved her out of the stream until he’d adjusted the temperature. After a few moments, he brought her into the water, pressing his body flush against hers. She couldn’t believe the way he was continuing to touch her, keep her near him. They bathed quickly, while he continued to keep her close, pulling her back to him if she moved too far away. He turned off the water and opened the shower door slightly to snake his hand around the corner and grab two towels from an unseen shelf. Handing one to her, he dried quickly and tied his around his waist while she did the same, securing hers under her arms. Before he opened the door to leave the shower again, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. All of this kissing was leaving her dizzy. She barely had time to catch her breath, let alone think. Grabbing her hand, he led her back to the bedroom and flipped on the light before walking over to his dresser where he opened a drawer and pulled out a black t-shirt and handed it to her. “I can’t,” she said softly shaking her head, “I should get home.” “Stay,” he said looking into her eyes. She shook her head again, “No, I really-.” He cut her off by grabbing her face between his hands and kissing her again, then pulled back, whispering, “ Stay.” “Ok,” she whispered, taking the shirt from him, having no idea what she was doing. He put on a clean pair of boxers and some pajama bottoms as she pulled the t-shirt on over her head and discarded the towel. Walking to the door, he closed it and turned off the light, then took her hand again and led her to the bed, making a motion for her to climb in. Sliding into the bed after her, he quickly pulled her to him, then grabbed the covers, tucking them in around her. He held her against his chest, and she felt tense for a moment, then relaxed draping herself over him, her head lay on his shoulder, one of her legs was thrown over his. His arms were wrapped around her, and he turned his head and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Maria felt limp. Lying there with him felt more perfect than anything she’d ever known. It was as though she was made to fit him, molded against his body. Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep before she even had a chance to process everything that had happened within the last few hours. *** Michael held her close and knew she’d fallen asleep when he heard her breathing even out. He tried not to smell her hair, which had gotten slightly wet in the shower making its scent even more tantalizing. And, he tried not to notice how sensually her body was pressed to his, or how, even in her sleep, her tiny hand was making his toes curl with the small fluttering circles it was drawing on his chest. He didn’t know what to think. The only thing that he knew for certain was that she made him feel…differently…than anyone else ever had. There was something about her, something he was drawn too. He wasn’t really sure what it was. She sighed softly and snuggled her face into his chest. This wasn’t annoying. It wasn’t a pain, or something he begrudged her. Holding her felt right, good. *** Maria opened her eyes to see the sun filtering in through the blinds on his windows. She was still in the same position she had been when she fell asleep. Lying on his chest, his arms around her. Yawning, she moved away, careful not to wake him. His arms fell loose at his sides as she sat back and looked down at him. In his sleep he was beautiful. All of his features were softened, and he had an earnest look. The clock on his bedside table read 7:05, and she almost panicked, but then she remembered that it was Sunday, and she didn’t need to worry about work. Slowly, she moved out of bed keeping an eye on him to be sure he stayed asleep. Gathering her clothes from the floor, she went into the bathroom, and after taking one look at her hair decided that she needed to wash it before she went home. Hopping in the shower, she let the water wash over her as she considered everything that had happened. Isabel. The beautiful woman had a name…and a place. His ex. He’d been with her for three years, and obviously was still deeply attached to her. So, that was one more reason to add to the list of ‘why it’s stupid for me to think that something’s happening between us’. Of course, last night had lessened one of her insecurities. It had been obvious that he’d enjoyed himself this time. She’d watched his face…well, until he laid her down and she couldn’t even remember to breathe, let alone keep her eyes open…but before that she’d watched him, and she’d seen what it did to him. Thinking over the whole experience, she was-. Wait. How could she have forgotten? She’d glossed over it because she was sure he hadn’t heard, but she’d told herself she would keep an eye on him to see if he acted strangely…but, she hadn’t. No, she’d been completely lost in his touch, and she’d forgotten to make sure he hadn’t heard her. When her hair was rinsed thoroughly of the shampoo and conditioner, she turned off the water and stepped out to dress herself in the red dress. Finding a comb in his drawer, along with a three pack of brand new toothbrushes which she helped herself to, she managed to make herself look partially presentable, and opened the bathroom door. Never would she have expected to be greeted by the smell of food cooking. Carefully, she walked to the railing overlooking the main room and glanced over it to see him in front of the stove with a frying pan (of all things) in his hand. It looked like he was making scrambled eggs, and another smaller frying pan seemed to contain tiny sausages. She stepped back and took a deep breath before she started down the stairs. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined him cooking. She walked carefully into the kitchen and stood in front of the kitchen counter opposite him. His back was to her, and he was still shirtless, but was now wearing an old pair of blue jeans. The muscles on his back were like the ones on his chest and stomach, definitely there, but not overly defined, just the way she liked them. A smile somehow found it’s way to her face as she noticed how the hairs on the back of his neck curled slightly, sexy… He turned around when some toast popped up in the toaster on the counter behind her, and seemed surprised to see her. His eyes sought hers, and his jaw set itself firmly. “Um, ‘morning,” he said as he pulled the toast out of the toaster and placed it on the plate he had sitting in front of it. “Good morning,” she said, looking down at the floor. It was embarrassing to even think that he might have heard her last night. She was still staring at the floor when she felt his hands on her hips turning her to face him, pulling her against him. When she looked up, he was leaning down to kiss her, and she tilted her chin up and met his lips. The kiss was sweet and slow, but didn’t break, and before she knew it they were gripping each other tightly, her arms were flung around his neck, and his hands were buried in her hair… The smell of something burning reached both of their noses at once, because they each pulled back and stared at each other in confusion. He glanced at the stove. “ Sh*t,” he hissed as he moved quickly over to pick up a pan full of crispy eggs. How long had they been kissing anyway? Picking up the pan, he carried it over to the sink and dropped it in, then turned to her with a grin. Her stomach dropped to her feet. A grin. She’d never seen one of his before. It had a smirky quality, and it certainly wasn’t large, but she knew what it was, and it was making her knees weak. This was something she could get used to. Him, in the morning, smiling at her, kissing her. He made her feel so alive. “Is this why you don’t cook?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t see how his smile had affected her. He laughed as he walked to the fridge and pulled out the carton of eggs, then got another pan out of the cupboard next to the stove, “Uh, I was just doing scrambled, because everybody likes scrambled, but-.” “You’re cooking for me?” she asked him softly, she’d just assumed it was for him. Whipping her a quick look he said, “Yeah, what do you think I’d eat in front of you?” Unsure of how to respond, she simply turned and walked out into the main room. The sunlight was shining in brightly through the windows. Somehow his studio in the corner stood out, probably because it wasn’t lit, and she felt drawn to it. There were stretched canvases leaned against walls and tables, some clean, some partially painted, some filled. A large one in the corner drew her. It was done entirely in black, a man trapped in a box with a look of rage on his face, though she wasn’t sure, she had a feeling the man was him. Glancing to her left from that one, she saw another larger canvas mounted on the wall. It was an extreme close-up of someone’s eyes, just a small bit of the cheek underneath and a small bit of forehead above the eyebrows. So, he was good. Of course, she didn’t know a good painting from a good wine, but she knew that it touched her. Sketchbooks were littered all over the room, most open to a drawing. On closer inspection of one sitting on a table under the eyes, she saw an aerial view of a nude woman, lying on a bed, her hair fanned out beneath her, her eyes half closed with a look of rapture on her face. This too had an affect on her, and she began to wander around the room, closely examining the sketchbooks and the canvases, finished or not. They all seemed to be of the same woman. When she was crouching down to look at one which seemed to be just a view of a leg, she glanced down at a sketchbook on the ground. The drawing she saw in it was more crisp and in focus than the paintings and other sketches. Almost immediately she recognized the setting, it was Murray’s, a view from outside the front window. She saw a waitress standing behind the counter, with a hand on her head as though she were smoothing her hair back. It was the woman from all of the sketches and paintings…. Her. It was her. Leaping to her feet, she looked at the sketches and paintings again. Now she could see it. Everywhere. Her own reflection, various snap shots of her body, leered at her from around the room. At first she was amazed. This was the way he saw her. He painted her, he was obsessed with her. Then Alex’s words from the night before began to echo in her mind. He’d never painted Isabel. He didn’t paint anyone he knew. The truth of it hit her hard and fast. Just moments ago, she had let him kiss away her newest set of concerns, and it had been foolish. She didn’t mean anything to him. And, obviously she never would. “It’s ready,” she heard his voice calling from the kitchen. For some reason she panicked. Reaching her hands up to smooth her hair, she accidentally brushed them against her cheeks and felt tears. Crying. She was crying. Quickly wiping at the moisture, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. What was she doing here? Everything was happening for her. A whole new future was stretching out into the horizon, and she was constantly consumed with thoughts of him. “Maria?” his voice behind her made her jump. She took a few deep breaths and didn’t turn to look at him, “Yeah?” “The food is…” his voice trailed off. It made her want to turn around and see what was happening on his face, but she couldn’t. She knew he’d see she was upset. “Uh, sorry, I really should get going,” her voice faltered slightly, and she took another steadying breath and tried to focus. Her eyes landed on the painting of… her eyes. She walked over to it and looked up, hoping that by concentrating on it she could distract herself. His bare feet made whispering noises as he walked across the floor to stand behind her. Turning her head slightly, she was just able to make out his form. “It’s you,” he said firmly, and she knew he was talking about the painting. “Uh…yeah,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “I sort of…I sort of knew that…” She was shocked when she felt his hands on her hips, and felt a shiver run up her spine as he slid them around her waist wrapping her in an embrace from behind, pulling her to him. He buried his face in her hair, and when she leaned her head back against him, his lips moved to her neck. This was too much. It was so unfair for him to make her feel this way. He didn’t see her as anything, just a stranger. No, he was a famous artist, and he was probably still in love with his now married ex, and he was closed off, and he probably wouldn’t be any good for her…and he made her feel like she was flying… No. This had to stop. She was completely attached, and it didn’t really mean anything to him. An attempt to pursue things would be like asking to be a statistic. It was time for her to wake up and take control of her life, and that was going to start here and now. Maria pulled away from him quickly. He looked at her, confused and started to reach for her. “No, sorry. I have to go.” He searched her eyes, his brow furrowed. For a moment she could have sworn she saw the strange sick look that he’d gotten-. She tore her eyes away. This wasn’t the time for delusions. In fact, even if he did care it didn’t matter. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she walked past him on her way to the door. “ No, Maria.” His voice halted her. He sounded angry. Very, very angry. Snapping herself back to her resolve she walked to the coat rack by the door and grabbed her mother’s coat, then quickly slipped her feet into the shoes she’d discarded there the night before. Suddenly, he was beside her, “What are you doing? You can’t just walk out, I-.” She glanced up at him, “Really. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have stayed last night anyway.” Standing, she grabbed her evening bag from another hook and took another step toward the door. “Don’t. Do not leave,” his voice was hard and low, as if he were lecturing some errant teenager. Ignoring him she reached for the knob, only to see his hand slam on the door, muscles tensed, obviously trying to keep it closed. Why did he care? He didn’t, did-. No, he didn’t. “Look,” she said, keeping her voice low to match his, glad she wasn’t facing him, “I am leaving. I need to go home.” ‘And I need to get on with my life,’ she thought. “No.” She was exasperated. Why was he making this difficult? “I have things to do. Things that do not include you or my stupid job, and I need to get started on them. Now, stop getting in my way. I.Have.To.Go.” The hand on the door relaxed, and dropped, and she heard him sharply release a breath. Quickly, she opened the door just enough to let herself through, then closed it behind her, moving quickly out of his building and down the street toward home. *** Michael stared at the closed door and ran a hand through his hair. He’d let her slip away. All of those stupid movies about women liking it if you cooked them breakfast-. His fist slammed hard into the door, and he fell on his ass, cradling his hand in his lap. That was probably a mistake. So, what was it this time? He couldn’t imagine that there was any doubt about how he’d felt about last night, he’d completely lost it inside her. Was it the food? Did he not make it clear enough that he wanted her to stay? His work – the paintings? It might be that…no, she’d melted into him even after she’d seen them. God, she was always like this. Hot and cold. Impossible to figure out. Most people at least gave him a hint what he was or wasn’t doing. Not her. Oh no. The thing that didn’t make sense – that he couldn’t figure out – was why she would run if she thought she loved him. He believed it. Well, not that she loved him, but that she thought she did. It was all over her face, it was shining in her eyes…he didn’t really know why, but she saw something in him. So, why run? What was it? What was he doing? Standing awkwardly he went to the freezer and pulled out an ice pack, and wrapped it in a towel, then laid in on his knuckles. He sat on his couch and stared into the studio, at the exact spot they’d been when she’d suddenly pulled away. Maybe if he re-traced her steps… Standing where she had been, he looked around. There was the picture of her eyes, she’d been staring at it. Glancing around, he tried to see if there was something that would have upset her. He’d done some sketches of Tess while she was staying with him, but he had a feeling they were in the book he kept on the coffee table. Turning in a complete circle, he was mystified. Everything that surrounded him was her. Was she upset by herself? He laughed wryly as he went back out to the living room and flopped onto the sofa again, wincing as the movement jarred his hand. This was not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay. She made him feel, she made him think, she even made him laugh. There was so much more he wanted to know. Even the thought of them having something…well, long term…didn’t bother him. Not as long as she kept making him feel the way she did, not as long as she kept looking at him like he hung the moon… Throwing his head back, he stared at the ceiling, four stories up, so far away. It was so stupid that he was stuck wondering about all of this stuff. He sounded like a girl or something. In fact he could just imagine Tess as she’d re-counted every moment she’d spent with that guy she was interested in, wondering what she could and couldn’t read something into. Maybe it was time to call in an expert. Could Tess give him a clue about what was going on? Somehow, the thought of calling Tess made him feel guilty. He only called her when he needed something. She was almost always the one who initiated contact. It was something he’d always noticed, but it had become more obvious since her break-up with Max. In fact, now every time she used one of her favorite lines it made him feel a little guilty, even though she never used it in reference to herself. He could just hear her as she watched him pout over something with Isabel, ‘It’s not all about you, Michael.’ It’s not all about you, Michael. “It’s not all about you, Michael,” he said to himself as he stood and walked back into the corner to stand in the spot again. So, maybe there were other things in her life. Of course there were. From the sound of things, she had a lot of stuff to deal with. He sat down on the floor and stared up at her eyes on the wall. If it wasn’t about him, then what was it about? |