51. Caleph
51
CALEPH
I somehow manage to convince Ariadne to go to dinner with me and Dante Accardi, who’s agreed to bring his wife Kingsley. She’s mentioned she’s looking for a personal assistant, someone she can trust, and for some reason, Ariadne came to my mind.
When I pick her up, Ariadne’s wearing an emerald green pantsuit which looks like a million dollars on her. I slide my eyes across the back passenger seat and watch her as she looks out the window.
We weave through the diners, my hand in the small of Ariadne’s back as the waitress shows us to our table and I make the introductions.
“You didn’t tell me we’d be meeting with the Accardis,” Ariadne whispers, leaning into me as we take our seats.
“You know them?”
“Are you kidding me? They’re only like the biggest power couple in the business world.”
I laugh as Ariadne fangirls, her eyes luminous with excitement, then tell Dante and Kingsley they would’ve made an excellent exposé for Ariadne when she was working at the paper.
“That’s right,” Dante says. “You did that piece on Caleph.”
He turns my way and lifts an eyebrow as he smirks and tells me the article did me justice in the picture they took by choosing my best side.
“Prick,” I laugh. “It was a picture of my back.”
“That’s my point exactly.”
“Have you two known each other long?” Ariadne asks, looking between me and Dante.
“And there she goes,” Dante says. “I think it’s safe your girl’s switched to reporter mode.”
Kingsley says something to Ariadne and the two women immerse themselves in a conversation as Dante and I exchange our trademark banter. When Dante excuses himself to answer a phone call, I watch as Kingsley’s eyes lift to follow his retreating back, like the very thought of being without him for even a second pains her. When he disappears out of sight, she turns back to Ariadne and fixes her with a smile.
“So, tell me all about how you and Caleph met.”
* * *
“He kidnapped me,” Ariadne says, as though this is a common enough occurrence.
“Twice,” I point out.
Kingsley blinks rapidly, her eyes trailing from Ariadne to me, trying to gauge if we’re joking.
“Not a joke,” Dante says, taking his seat beside his wife. He slides towards her and pushes a kiss to her forehead. The man cannot keep his hands off her.
“You knew about this?” Kingsley asks, looking at her husband incredulously. He barks out a laugh and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. I don’t miss how she curls into his hand, nor how Ariadne’s lips part, mesmerized at that one simple touch. She is a true romantic.
“I did.”
“How did I not know about this?” she gawks. She turns back to Ariadne and I could swear her face is awash with excitement. “Tell me all about it!” she squeals. I know this is probably because Kingsley finally feels like there’s someone she can share her own twisted love story with – Dante kidnapped her at her own father’s funeral – there’s not many people that could relate to what she’s been through. They’re like two schoolgirls telling each other secrets as they whisper and chat well into the evening, even after they’ve polished off their desserts and decided on coffee seconds. They seem to be getting along like a house on fire, and I’m glad that Ariadne has at least connected with one other person that could possibly act as a bridge between us when I go away. I will always need eyes on her. Friendly eyes. I watch as the two women exchange numbers and promise to keep in touch. Ariadne adds that she’ll contact Kingsley in a few days about the job, a promising development.
“What did you think?” I ask her, as we climb into the car to head home.
We’ve reached a casual truce and we’re talking much easier than we did a few days ago. I don’t know what the turning point was, but it could have been coming home that gave her a different perspective. Knowing that I wasn’t going to keep her by my side against her will. Although I’d like nothing better than to do that.
I slide my eyes towards her sitting across the other side of the seat. She is so beautiful it makes my heart stutter. The thought of leaving her here is not one I’ve come to terms with. I don’t know what I’d do without Ariadne in my life. I’ve gotten so used to her the past couple of months, it’s hard for me to remember what life was like before her.
“She’s an extraordinary woman,” she says. Ariadne. Fangirling. That’s not something one sees every day.
“You going to take the job?”
“Are you going back to Guatemala?”
I give her a small shake of my head. I don’t like it when she answers my questions with one of her own.
“What will you do?”
I’m surprised that she’s interested to know. It gives me hope that she cares enough to want to keep tabs on me. Maybe she’d even answer my calls if I picked up the phone and tried to contact her. Perhaps she’d come to visit if I asked nicely. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t know how long I’d be able to go without seeing or talking to her.
“I’m going out to sea for a while.”
I don’t add that I’m hoping she’ll come with me. She raises her eyes in surprise, like it’s the last thing she expected.
“For how long?”
“Sounds like someone’s going to miss me.”
I shoot her a smirk, my mouth curling up the way I know she likes.
She surprises me when she asks if I’ll be back. I thought she wanted nothing more than to be rid of me. But she’s asking questions that make me think she cares, questions that she wouldn’t have necessarily asked a couple of weeks ago.
“Do you want me to come back?” I ask.
She shrugs shyly, a soft blush creeping up her neck. She’s trying her hardest to act nonchalant, but she’s failing miserably. She cares just as much as I do. She can deny it all she wants, but she and I are intertwined in a way that few people are. In a way that few people ever could be.