Chapter 15 #2
“Well then,” Her eyes flashed again, and a smile crept up her lips. “Perhaps we should change that.”
“Change what?”
“How little I know you.”
Christopher’s eyes almost widened, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. That was despite the panic that raced through him, because this was the last thing we wanted.
Christopher was not necessarily a private person, but there were certain parts of his life that he kept hidden for very specific reasons. And if Rose was to learn of them…
I don’t even know what will happen. I don’t even want to imagine it.
“I don’t think so.” He looked at her flatly and then went back to his work.
“What is your favorite flavor of tea?” she asked.
Christopher started at the randomness of the question, and despite his best efforts, he looked up again. “Tea?”
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your favorite flavor.”
“That is the,” He laughed mockingly. “That is what you want to know about me?”
“Assuming it is not a secret.”
“English tea,” he said dryly before bending his head back down.
“What is your favorite animal?” she asked next.
He sighed loudly. “Dogs.”
“And your least favorite?”
He clicked his tongue, frustration growing. “Cats.”
“How original,” she laughed. “It is almost as if these answers were planned in advance.”
“Perhaps the questions themselves are the ones lacking in originality?”
“More personal? Well, if you insist.” He could see her grinning out of the corner of his eye. “What is your favorite pastime?”
Christopher looked up and narrowed his eyes. “I would prefer it if we stayed on topic.” He indicated their work. “This needs to be done, and asking what size pants I wear isn’t going to do it.”
“That’s my next question,” she said innocently. “First, I want to know what your favorite pastime is. Surely, even one as dour as you has a way of killing time that he enjoys?” She then tilted her head. “You do not know what it means to enjoy oneself, don’t you?”
Christopher groaned and folded his arms. “If I answer you, do you promise to leave me alone?”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “I promise.”
The first instinct that came to Christopher was to lie.
That was what he was used to doing. That was the safe option.
He was painfully aware of how dangerous it was to let Rose know too much because the more she learned, the more she would see how often he faked his personality and the things that he said.
It was as he looked at her that Christopher felt something strange occurring inside of him. Something he could not recall having ever felt before.
It was how much fun she looked like she was having with him; the smile on her lips, the glimmer in her eyes, and the sense of joy that wafted from her like perfume. It was intoxicating, it was alluring, and it reminded Christopher of the feelings that were steadily growing between them.
His wife wasn’t ordinary. She was perceptive and intelligent. She was strong-willed and confident. She was, in many ways, like him, only she didn’t try to hide who she was.
And most strangely, despite the danger, Christopher found that he wanted her to know the truth. It was such a small thing, but to lie felt wrong all of a sudden, as if she deserved better.
Perhaps I deserve better, too? For once, I want to stop living a lie. For once, I want someone to see me as I truly am. Even if it is only a fragment of my true self.
“You wish to know what my favorite pastime is?” He folded his hands on the desk and looked right at his wife.
“I would love to,” she said back, imitating his action.
“I enjoy gardening.”
She snorted. “I was trying to be serious, Christopher.”
“I am being serious.”
“No,” she said. “You are not. Now, are you going to answer the question or not?”
He continued to look right at her, resisting the urge to smile. “You asked, and I told you. When I have free time, when I am stressed, when I just want to get away, I garden.” He shrugged. “And that is the truth.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You are being serious.”
“Is that not what you have been saying about me? That I am far too serious?”
“But—” She blinked and shook her head. “I have never seen you outside in the gardens. And none of the groundmen said anything when I was…” She sucked through her teeth.
“When you were playing havoc with their schedules.”
“If you were so enraptured by gardening, they would have said something. Surely?”
He allowed himself to grin, enjoying that for once, his wife did not look as if she was in total control. “Who said that my garden was outside?”
“What?” She leaned back. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you don’t know nearly as much as you think you do.” He picked up his quill and went back to work. “Now, can we please finish this?”
“No,” she said. “I want to see it.”
“See what?” He looked back up, and she was beaming.
“Your mystery garden. Show me.”
“Oh.”
The request should not have surprised him as it did. Indeed, the moment he told her about the garden, the first thing he would have expected her to ask was the chance to see it.
Christopher rarely spoke about gardening to anyone, as it was a private escape of his, and he doubted his friends would understand why he bothered.
Likely, they would mock him for it. But to Christopher, it was more than a pastime.
It was an escape, a sanctuary of sorts, and a place where he was allowed to be himself like nowhere else.
To bring Rose into that world, to show her that side of himself, was dangerous.
“Please.” She reached across the table and took his hands, squeezing them. “Show me, Christopher.”
His eyes locked onto her hands. The way they felt, wrapping around his own. How warm they were, and how soft. And when he looked up and found her big eyes smiling at him, his heart raced.
“I do not think that is such a good idea.”
“Why not? You wish to prove to me that I am wrong about you? This is the way to do it. And besides,” She shrugged. “It would be nice to know that my husband has hobbies outside of making my life a misery.”
He laughed before he could help himself. “Fine, if you insist. But once I show you, we are back here and working. Is that understood?”
Her smile was all teeth. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It was five minutes later when Christopher led Rose into his personal sunroom. It was a small room built off the side of his bedroom, three walls made entirely of glass, a roof that was half-glass and half-open, and greenery everywhere that one looked.
He watched her nervously as she walked ahead. A part of him was afraid, because he had never shown this room to anyone, and it felt as if he was opening himself to her in ways he promised he would not. But another part was excited, because he wanted her to see this side of him.
“Well?” he asked as she looked around the sunroom. “What do you think?”
She spun back, and her smile told him everything he needed to know. “Christopher, this is beautiful.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “You think so?”
“You don’t?”
“I never really thought of it before. To me, it has always just been,” He shrugged. “Something that I did.”
“In secret.” She pumped her eyebrows.
“Not on purpose,” he assured her. “But it’s not something that I speak about often.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Christopher considered the question and how best to answer it.
“It is no great thing…” He walked into the room and found his attention taken by a row of purple irises.
“But the people of this town, they tend to judge.” He laughed awkwardly as he fixed his attention on the irises as if his life depended on it.
“To find a man’s weakness and then attack it.
In some facets of life, I find it is easier to simply remove those weaknesses from sight, not giving them the chance to be attacked in the first place. ”
“Weaknesses?” Rose walked in behind him. “Do you see this as a weakness?”
“No,” he admitted. “But the point remains the same.”
He had said too much, and he realized it immediately.
It was because he felt so safe in this room that Christopher had spoken so freely. He kept his focus on the iris flowers, determined to pretend that they were the most important thing in the world. And Rose stood behind him, watching him, studying, assessing his response, and picking it apart.
He braced himself for the follow-up and the lie he was going to have to tell her. And, most strangely, the thought of lying to her at all made him feel ill.
Why did I bring her down here in the first place?
“Tell me about these?” Rose stepped around him so that she could better see the purple flowers.
“Oh,” He blinked in surprise and breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“They are,” she said as she reached out, stroking a finger across the purple flowers. “You have an eye for it.”
“For what?”
She blushed and glanced at him before looking away. “For finding beauty.”
The midday sun shone through the room and washed across Rose’s face, making her skin glow pink.
Her eyes, big and brown, glimmered as they looked from the flowers to Christoper.
She was standing closer, half-turned toward him, the distance between them so minimal that he could feel the heaviness of her breathing.
Christopher’s own heart started to thump loudly. Despite his best efforts, his eyes flicked to her lips, and his chest tightened.
The silence between them grew, as did the understanding that seemed to come with the moment. One that was so obvious, so stark, it was a wonder that it took this long to arrive.
Christopher was attracted to his wife; of that, he had no doubt. What was more, he was starting to like her as a person. He liked how confident she was. He liked how self-assured and stubborn she could be. He liked… he liked… he liked it all.
He had wanted a subservient wife. He had wanted a wife he could control. And now that he had the complete opposite, he wondered how he had ever wanted anything different. Yes, he knew the danger. But in the moment, as he looked at her, that did not seem to matter.
“Rose,” he started softly, turning to face her fully.
“Yes?” She looked up and met his eyes, and he could see the hope behind them.
“I- I-” His eyes flicked to her lips. He stepped in closer. The energy around them exploded, and all he had to do was lean in and kiss his wife, knowing that she would kiss him back.
The only thing that stopped him was that voice in the back of his head, screaming that it was not worth it. Christopher had been alone for so long for a good reason, hiding his true self from everyone for the very same reason, and to break that now was too dangerous.
“We'd best get back to work,” he said, turning away.
“Oh,” Rose blinked in confusion. “I… yes, yes, we should.” Her eyes narrowed, and he wondered if she was going to say something about what nearly happened. He hoped that she would object.
Of course, she did not, and she put her head down and strode past him. Christopher sighed with relief, following closely behind. As he left the room, he looked back one last time, gazing on the sunroom, the plants and flowers, his sanctuary.
He loved it down here because when he was in this room, alone, he could be himself in ways that he simply could not in the real world. And while he would have liked to have shown that side to Rose, he knew that he never could.
A damn shame, really, because a part of him knew how much she would love it. Just as he would love it to.