Chapter 33
Nora: #Apology
W e barely talk on the drive home. I’m shocked by all the games Gabs’ family plays and my stomach hurts a little from eating too much because that’s all I could do to keep myself busy while all the drama was unfolding. The fact that the food was heavenly did not help.
I don’t trust Mrs Bardot, so I refrain from commenting till we’re alone. We wouldn’t want the driver to report back to her. With all her crafty and devious ways, I wouldn’t put it past her to ask the driver to spy on us. I guess Gabs feels the same, and that’s the reason he refused her offer of car and driver during his stay in Paris.
Thankfully, with barely any traffic at this time of the night, the ride to the hotel doesn’t take long.
Once in the room, Gabriel makes himself comfortable on the couch. I feel sorry for him and wonder if I should invite him to the bed. Yeah, right! Don’t get ideas. It’s just ‘cause I think he must be exhausted like me. We’ve had a long day. I don’t even remember when the day started. It feels like we’ve been awake and on the move forever.
However, I remember our last encounter on this bed, and as exciting and fun as it was, I don’t think we should repeat it. So I don’t even give a hint that he should come over. The good thing about exhaustion is that he’ll likely sleep well even on the couch.
I change into a loose T-shirt and pajamas and get inside the covers.
“I can’t read your grandmother, y’know. Sometimes she seems so crafty, while at others she appears to be nice and caring.”
Gabriel fluffs up the pillow and stretches out on the couch. “Oh, don’t be mistaken by her smiles and compliments. She’s crafty as hell. But from what I know of her, she’s not bad at heart. I think she genuinely thought it was good for me.” He turns to his side, so he’s facing me. “Well, not me, but for the business. But I still don’t trust her, because I don’t think she values me or my happiness over her business. As long as she thinks I’m adding value, she’s a friend. That’s all.”
“Well, she’s quite shrewd. Imagine going to all those lengths to get you out of MooreGames! I mean, if she’d be the CEO, the company would grow much faster.”
“True. I see you’re quite impressed by her. I thought you hated her. That’s what your looks said when we met her.”
“I did. But then I realized she’s not that bad.” I give out a long drawn-out yawn. “Anyway, g’nite. We’ll discuss tomorrow about how we should go about telling our followers the truth.”
I close my eyes, wondering what ‘truth’ is. Mom’s voice reverberates in my ears. “Take a chance at what your heart says.”
What does my heart say? On second thoughts, do I even want to know? I mean, Gabs probably has had enough of this relationship thing with me, fake or otherwise. And I don’t blame him. It hasn’t gone so swimmingly as I’d hoped it would. The kisses have been nice, though. And the sex… well, it’s been awesome. Would I want to live the rest of my life without experiencing it again?
Tough choice.
If I have to choose between his friendship and sex, I’ll obviously choose friendship. Ugh! That’s why I hate being an adult, because the right decisions are not always the ones you want. Neither are they the easiest.
I fall asleep with these thoughts swirling in my mind, forming a tempest of opposite thoughts and forces.
I wake up after a long, dreamless sleep, feeling a little too comfortable. It doesn’t seem normal. I rub my crusted eyes and open them slowly, as they adjust to the light. Why does it feel so cozy? I move a little and feel something… someone … behind me, spooning me.
The sleep disappears from my eyes. I jerk my head to look behind me. It’s Gabs, still sleeping, a mild rhythmic snore acting like a lullaby. Well, what did I expect? But what the hell is he doing here? Wasn’t he sleeping on the couch? Did we do it again last night? Did we do it and I don’t even remember? Shit!
I lift the covers and see my body and his. Well, we’re both clothed, so maybe we didn’t do it. Then what happened?
With all my movement, Gabs starts to stir. He stretches his legs and arms, then curls up again, pulling me close from behind. I can feel his heartbeat quickening as his hands tighten around my waist, and a low moan escapes his lips.
As much as I want to turn around and kiss those lips, I know we shouldn’t. All this sex might complicate our friendship even more, and that’s the last thing either of us wants. So, with a sigh, I slip out of the covers and give him a peck on the forehead. He looks so innocent when he’s asleep. Hot, but innocent.
I tip-toe to the bathroom with a change of clothes. I have my phone with me, and out of habit, I check my social media.
Surprise! Surprise! TruthSeekerBob issued an apology barely an hour ago.
“I apologize for my inference that Nora and Gabriel are faking their relationship. It was just hearsay and I don’t have any proof. I hope they are kind enough to forgive me.”
I want to comment on it, but I don’t, knowing fully well that it was the truth. If we want to let our followers know the truth, it won’t make sense to gloat over this post. Gabs and my followers are already totally roasting him.
I simply write, “Thank you @TruthSeekerBob. We appreciate it.” It’s a mandatory response.
I keep my phone aside for a bit and enjoy a long shower. The warm water flowing down my body is almost meditative and for a bit I try not to think of what people are commenting, thinking or saying. By the time I come out of the bathroom, Gabs is awake.
“TruthSeekerBob has apologized to us,” I say matter-of-factly, ignoring the fact that his ruffled hair, crinkled T-shirt, and day-long beard are giving him a totally rugged bad-boy-in-a-gentleman’s-body look which makes my heart skip a beat, or maybe multiple beats. Who knows?
“He did?”
He rummages through the bed for his phone and swipes it open. “Wow, this is unexpected. Without the recording, I guess he figured he had no case.”
He continues to read the comments for a few minutes. Finally, he raises his head. “Well, thankfully, this chapter is closed. We don’t need to say anything to anyone now. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I don’t like to lie, especially to people who are fighting for me without ever even having met me. Y’know? It feels wrong.”
“Let’s think about it today. If that’s how we feel by tomorrow, we’ll do it. Okay? Now, what are the plans for today?”
“Day? Half the day is already gone. And for the rest, I think you need to prepare for your meeting tomorrow. Don’t you?”
“Okay. I’ll freshen up, then we can go down to the restaurant and eat an excellent lunch. After that, you can help me with the presentation. In the evening, we’ll go out and act like tourists for a few hours. What say?”
It feels like old times, the way we talk and plan. Maybe all is not lost yet.
“Sounds good.”
And that’s what we do. Eat a blissful lunch followed by a few hours of prep for the next day’s presentation. I also finish some pending work for MooreGames. Most of the educationists I’d reached out to be part of the advisory board for Eva’s product have accepted and seem excited about the product and its impact on the school-going children’s learning experience. Some of the people I’d reached out to about the beta-version of the product have agreed to use it in their schools. I reply to them and send the good news to Eva.
Today seems to be a good day. It’s late evening by the time we’re done.
“Do we still wanna go out, or just chill in the room?” I ask. I’d like to see the city, but I don’t want to drag Gabs out so late. First because he’s seen Paris multiple times and second because he has an important day tomorrow and needs to be well rested.
There’s a third reason too. We haven’t spoken properly about me accusing Daphne and Sophia. I apologized, but I don’t think it was enough. I won’t be astonished if he’s still upset with me over it. So well, the ball is in his court.
“Of course we’ll go out. You’re in Paris and you’re still my girlfriend. Let’s do some touristy stuff together.”
“Okay! I’m in. Where are we going? Should I wear jeans and a top or a dress?”
“Whatever you like,” he replies.
I pick out my yellow dress, leave my hair open to hasten our departure, and am the first to step out of the room. Being in an enclosed space with Gabs when we’re not both busy in work, might not be the best thing for our relationship right now. In fact, I’m considering getting another room for two nights once we’re back.
The evening air along the Seine is cool, and the city lights reflect off the water, creating a shimmering path as Gabs and I stroll along the riverbank. The sky is a deep, velvety blue, and the scent of fresh bread from nearby boulangeries fills the air.
“You want some croissants?” Gabs asks with a little chortle, as he sees me eyeing a couple entering a bakery. “You went quite rogue on the breads last night.”
I give him a light rap on the shoulder. “I didn’t know what to do, so I ate. And they were so good. If there’s one thing I like about Paris, it’s the breads. But no, I don’t want any right now. I’ve had enough for an entire year, I think.”
We walk along in silence. Even though he’s trying to act normal, I know something’s on his mind. He’s more jumpy, and keeps going into his own thoughts, which is quite unlike him. But there’s a lot that he’s discovered since yesterday. I guess I’d not even be able to function as much as him if I were in his position. So yeah, I give him his space.
The sound of distant laughter and the hum of conversation blend with the gentle lapping of the water against the quays. The Eiffel Tower looms in the distance, its lights twinkling like a thousand stars. It feels like we’re in a postcard, a perfect moment frozen in time.
I take a pic and post it on Instagram. “Enjoying a late evening stroll”. I don’t qualify it with a ‘my BF’ or ‘my best friend’ or a ‘my’ anything. I think even in my mind the lines have started blurring.
I love spending time with him, but I’ve always loved spending time with him. We know each other so well that being with him is like being with yourself, but more fun.
Even when I was with Rick, I always preferred Gabs’ company to Rick’s. In fact, that was one reason I was with Rick, because he didn’t have a problem with me spending so much time with Gabs, or so I thought.
Have I always liked him? Of course. Is there any other way to remain friends for so long? But do I ‘ like ’ him, as in ‘almost love’ him?
Come to think of it, what is love ?
Love is not about physical intimacy or emotional dependence. Love is what sets you free, not binds you to a person. So how does one know that they’re in love? How can one decide they want to spend their entire life with this one person?
Obviously, one can’t. It’s no wonder that we have such a high divorce rate. I’m sure all those people, looking for lawyers and fighting divorce and custody battles, also felt that they were in ‘love’ when they proposed or got married. I’m sure Dad believed he loved Mom when they married. But where was his love when he got drunk and yelled at her or sometimes even hit her? How did Mom love a person like that? Doesn’t this prove that the ‘love’ we feel and what we make it out to be is a far cry from what it is in reality? It’s a ‘right now’ emotion, not a ‘forever’ emotion.
We’re walking toward the Eiffel Tower. To be honest, it doesn’t look like something that deserves all the surrounding hoopla. I’d always thought I’d feel impassioned and enamored just looking at it. But nothing. It’s a big metal tower. Big whoop.
We stand in the queue to enter.
“Do we really want to see this?” I ask Gabs.
“Of course. You can’t visit Paris and not climb the Eiffel Tower. It’s blasphemy.”
“Why don’t we go to the Louvre or something?”
“You want to see the Mona Lisa? Don’t kid me, girl. I know how much you hate that painting. And the museum must be closed by now. It’s late. You’re saying this so we can get out of here. I know you.”
“Unfortunately, a little too well. You need to rest before your presentation tomorrow. It’ll be past eleven by the time we get the elevator,” I say while fishing into my purse to take out my vibrating phone. I need to be careful with all the beware of pickpocket signs everywhere.
“That’s the point,” he mutters, or do I imagine it? I can’t be sure because my focus is on the phone.
It’s Carla.
“Hey,” I say, swiping up.
“Hi, I saw the apology by that man. Thank heavens it’s sorted. And Nora, I’m really, really sorry. I’ve kicked out Kevin. He came back last night apologizing and everything. The creep. I also took his phone and factory reset it. The bugger was saying he’s lost this and that, but I don’t really care. He should be happy I only reset it and didn’t actually break the device.”
I chuckle at the image of Carla breaking Kevin’s phone. She has a tendency to get all worked up. “That’s quite like you. Good, that you got to know about Kevin now, rather than say after you got engaged or married. So, I’ll say all’s well that ends well. Men are usually not to be trusted. This has proven my point.”
I hear Mom’s voice next. “That’s not true, and you know it. One or two evil men don’t make the entire fifty percent of the population bad. Do they? Is that statistically true?”
“Oh looky. Someone’s brushing up on their math! These are two out of two in our family. So yeah, I call that statistically significant.”
Mom’s voice is louder now. She’s probably taken the phone from Carla. “You know quite a few happy couples, too. Look at Ryan and Eva or Alex and Lily, or even your friend Stacy and her husband. There are so many.”
“Oh, please don’t start again.”
“The way I see it, love can come to you in many forms, and it doesn’t remain the same with time. But if two people are committed to each other, if they value each other, they’ll make it work. If being with the other person is easy, if your face lights up when you think about him or her, if he or she is the one you want to turn to when you’re sad or happy, then trust me, you will make it work. Because the relationship gives you much more than it takes from you. It’s that simple.”
She pauses for a bit, but there’s nothing I can think of saying.
“Just remember one thing. Chances don’t keep coming in life. If life gives you a chance at happiness, take it. If life gives you a chance at love, grab it. Don’t let it go because of what you think you know of my life. I had my share of happiness, till it lasted. Even now, if I were given a chance, I’d do it again, because of the immense happiness I experienced in the early years of being together with your dad. The happiness that I’ve received by being a mother to you and Carla. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Being in love and marrying the person I love was not my mistake.”
“Really?”
“Yes. My mistake was in not being independent, in not trusting myself. It never was very easy and simple with your dad. But you aren’t me. You’re you . Nora. The independent, smart woman who I look up to everyday of my life.”
Carla butts in. “Enough of your sappy remarks, Mom. She’s in Paris. Hey sis, where are you? It seems quite noisy and vibrant in the background.”
“Right outside the Eiffel Tower.”
“Wow! Then what’re you doing chatting with us? Forget this old woman. She’s become super-chatty nowadays. I think giving motivational lectures can be an alternative profession for her.”
“I agree,” I chuckle. “Maybe we can explore starting a blog or podcast for her. Agony Aunt to your rescue or something.”
We both laugh and I hear Mom yelling something like “Shut up both of you” from the background.
“Anyway, you have fun, sis. See you when you’re back.”
Gabs is at the front of the line by the time I step back.
“That was Carla and Mom. Carla has kicked Kevin out. No surprises there,” I say in response to his raised eyebrows. “Rest is all fine with them. Carla, of course, still feels like shit about what we had to go through because of Kevin.”
He simply nods but says nothing. Perhaps he’s still upset with Carla. I make a mental note to tell Carla to apologize to Gabs directly instead of through me.
Without another word, he leads the way into the elevator. I notice a few women’s eyes drifting toward him as he passes them. He doesn’t even stop at the first level and immediately gets into the second elevator that’ll take us further up. He seems preoccupied. Normally he’d talk to me when he’s upset. Have things already changed between us? I hope not.
“Are you okay? You’re looking a bit off,” I say, holding his hand and stopping him in his tracks.
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you still upset with me? I’m sorry, Gabs. I know I shouldn’t have called up Daphne and Sophia. Is that why you’re behaving so weirdly?”
“Upset? No. I mean, I was. But not now.”
“Then what? Is it all the things your grandmother told you? Is that what’s on your mind?”
He shakes his head. “It was, but I’ve made my peace with it. By the way, this dress suits you. It looks kinda cute and sexy.”
He tilts his head to the side, his lips curling into a smile. I love it when he smiles, the way it lights up his face. He looks like the old Gabs again, my best friend.
“Wow! I didn’t know you ever paid attention to my clothes. Last year, when I asked you how I looked at your parent’s anniversary party, you didn’t even remember what I wore.”
“In my defense, you asked me some days after the party,” he retorts, returning to his usual self.
“Days after? It was the next day. And I was still wearing the same dress. But you hadn’t even noticed me.”
“Um. Really? Maybe I wasn’t well. Or maybe you hit me on the head or something and I lost my memory. You’re known to be quite violent with me.”
I scoff. “Yeah, right? You were busy with Grace, I think. Or was it Gwen? I don’t even remember who you were dating then. You didn’t have eyes for anyone else.”
“Well, I’m a gentleman. When I date a woman, I’m one hundred percent hers. I don’t notice or check out anyone else. I thought that was an excellent trait in boyfriends.”
I roll my eyes.
He looks me straight at me, holding my shoulders, a twinkle in his eyes and a faint smile playing on his lips. “See, since we’ve been together, I haven’t looked at anyone, not noticed anyone but you.”
He’s now so close to me I can feel his breath. He bends his head, his lips almost grazing my ears, and whispers, “You’re the only woman I have eyes and ears for, Nora.”
I can’t hear anything except his words reverberating in my ear. It’s as if the entire place has gone suddenly silent. My heart is pounding so hard that I think it’ll pop out any second. My breathing has become faster, and I have a powerful urge to fall into his arms. But I don’t. He means the fake relationship, fake being the keyword.
I turn my back to him so he can’t see me blushing and reacting so strongly to his presence.
“Yeah, right,” I say, stepping back and pulling out my phone as if to take some photos. “Your charms don’t work on me, Mr Fake Boyfriend.”