Two Months Later.
”This project is manic, isn”t it?” Sally leans back in the taxi”s seat, looking wrecked.
”This is just the start. Best you keep your head screwed on, Sal.” I can”t afford for Sally to lose her cool here. It”s been two months since our visit to the Bahamas, and we”re at last presenting our initial ideas to Florian and Graeme tomorrow. There are going to be suggestions, changes, likes and dislikes. I”ve put my crocodile skin on for all of them. We have time to tweak everything before we present together to Anderson in another month”s time.
I”ve never tackled such a high-profile, life-changing project before, and the pressure the past two months have been incessant. Our smaller design projects kept rolling in, but the Anderson project overshadowed everything else and devoured every spare minute we had.
Sally has been a darling and worked overtime with me over weekends to get everything done. We hit the ground running when we got back from Nassau and kept up the pace. There”s no way I could”ve been prepared to this extent without her help.
Our suitcases are laden with design boards, our shipment of swatches waits at the hotel already, and in my purse I have two very important packages: the one is the external hard drive with our design presentation—an extra copy, in case anything malfunctions—the other is an envelope for Graeme with the paperwork he asked for.
At the thought of Graeme, I reach for my wedding band that sits snug on my ring finger. Two extra kilos and things are getting tight. I lean back and close my eyes. As soon as we are at the hotel, he is picking me up for dinner...that”s if we make it out of my hotel room.
Graeme and I have kept our affair going from afar with naughty texts, which evolved to some sexting and eased into some daring late-night calls. I”ve surfaced from some deep waters, finally floating again in work, life, and love.
What I love the most are the long talks Graeme and I have nowadays. Somehow neither of us ever wants to hang up.
This weekend we”re going to be cocooned in his house on the other side of the bridge. Work first. Play later.
Sally is quiet next to me as we drive into downtown San Francisco, the day beautiful and sunny. I feel blessed, truly blessed. At some point after our Bahamas trip, she”d asked me if I got some during our stay in Nassau, with a touch of accusation in her voice. ”Are you having an affair?”
What gave it away? My sudden secrecy? My sudden happiness? Or my sudden obsession with long calls with Graeme, during which I subtly closed my office door? ”With Graeme, who is married?” I just laughed and told her that he was my husband. Is my husband.
”Your husband?”Her eyes popped. ”Old people! Heavens! What”s next?!”
Stick around, dear, stick around and see.I chuckle as I stare out of the window, admiring the beautiful Victorian houses that line the street. My phone pings, and I pull it from my purse. It’s a message from Graeme: I”m at the hotel. Couldn”t stand the wait any longer.
Soon... so soon.
We arrive at the hotel and Sally gets out of the taxi, roaring to go. It”s her first trip to San Francisco, and she has a mile-long list of things she must see and do in the next few days.
My door opens and I look up. There he is, my Graeme. He holds out his hand for me and helps me out of the car. I”m in his arms and I feel him heave in relief. ”Never again. It”s been too long, Tess. When are you moving to San Francisco?”
”Next month?” My lips find his, and we kiss, long and ardently. ”It”s been too long, way too long,” I breathe as we hug each other tightly.
”Don”t bother going back on Monday?” he whispers in my ear.
Maybe, Mr. Carlyle, just maybe.”We can work out the logistics over the weekend.”
”Sounds like a plan. Let me help you with your bags,” he offers, as the taxi driver pops open the trunk. ”Sally, how have you been?”
Sally sticks her hand out to him for a formal handshake. ”Very well and you, Graeme?”
”Fine, thank you.” Graeme winks at me. ”Why don”t you get going, Sally? We”ve got this and I believe you have a long list of touristy things to do.”
”Are you sure?” Sally looks ready to bolt, but it”s still office hours.
”I”ll check you in and leave your key at reception,” I say, somewhat stern, somewhat jokingly. ”Just don”t stay up too late. Big presentation tomorrow.”
Her gaze jogs from me to Graeme. ”Ditto for you two lovebirds.” And with that she”s gone before she could hear us laughing.
A porter comes to help with the luggage and after checking in, we make our way to our room, hand-in-hand.
The suitcases are in, the porter tipped, the door closed and locked. Graeme steps up to me and pulls me into his arms.
”I have something for you,” I murmur against his lips as he carries on where we left off in the street.
”You do?” He teases small kisses over my cheek to my ear. ”I have something for you too,” he whispers as he presses his budding erection into the softness of my belly.
”Hang on, big boy,” I whisper as I reach my hand into my purse, which still hangs from my shoulder.
I give him the envelope, and he frowns as he takes it from me. ”What is it?”
”You asked for it.” I drop my bag to the floor and scan his face.
”Miss Brooke. I thought we”re beyond that.”
”Still. There”s something in there for you.”
He sits down on the bed and fingers open the sticky flap of the envelope.
There they are. His divorce papers.
With a smile and a chuckle, he takes them out of the envelope and shreds them. ”Where were we?” he asks as he pulls me to his lap with one hand, and with the other throws the pieces of paper into the air to let them scatter.
”There”s something else,” I murmur in his ear. ”You need to look deeper. In the envelope.”
”Miss Brooke. Are you wasting my time?”
”Definitely.”
He makes space for me to straddle him and takes up the envelope again. His hand disappears into the two folds of paper, and he pulls out a white stick.
Two stripes.
Both pink.
My heart breaks as his face ripples with every emotion I had two days ago. I”ve been so busy, so stressed out, so unaware, that I only realized two days ago that I”ve missed that monthly event for two months in a row.
”Miss Brooke, is this yours?” His voice is full of the incredulity I had myself. The shock of it utterly unbelievable. I repeated the home test five times. None of them where lying. I had a blood test yesterday.
”No, Mr. Carlyle.” I kiss him gently. ”It”s ours.”
* * *
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