by Kahlen Aymes
She shook her head and bit her lip, grinding her hips down against mine. I was already hard, and I wanted to move with her, needing more pressure, my body craving hers. I sat up, my chin tilting, reaching up for her mouth, and my fingers curled up her thighs and then around her ass, pulling her tighter against me.
“I’ve dreamed of this forever…” I whispered with my eyes closed. Her fingers slid up my arms and into my hair as our hips ground together, the fabric separating our bodies not hiding her heat or my raging erection. Julia moaned softly, and her breath rushed out over my face, her mouth hovering over mine. Any second now, I’d kiss her for the first time. “Since I first saw you, I’ve wanted to touch you like this.” I reached up to cup both sides of her face, then combed my fingers through her hair. I stopped moving when the hair in my hands was short; just hovering on her shoulders and thinner. Where was the luxurious, thick hair I’d dreamed about raining over my body? My fingers drew it out, mentally cataloging the differences.
“Oh, yes Ryan… finally.”
I sucked in my breath and pried my resistant eyes open. I felt like they were glued shut, and it took three attempts. Fingers pulled on the back of my head and wet lips slid over mine. It was unfamiliar, the mouth too lax, too sloppy to be Julia’s.
“Kiss me, Ryan. I want you so bad.”
I struggled to focus in the dark room, and finally, the voice registered in my sleepy mind.
“What the fuck? Did you think I wouldn’t know you weren’t her?” I shoved the woman from my lap and scrambled up from the bed. She reached for me, but I backed away, stumbling until I was leaning up against the opposite wall of the tiny room. “Get out.” I put my hand over my eyes unable to stand looking at the woman I now loathed.
“Ryan,” Jane began. “Just a second ago you wanted me.”
“A second ago, I was dreaming about my wife!” I yelled at her. “What the fuck are you trying to do? Destroy my whole fucking life?” The sleeping pill was making my mind foggy and was hard to not fall on my ass. “I said, get out!” I hollered.
She stood and closed the space between us, her hand coming toward me. “Ryan, you told me that I deserved someone to love me.” She started to cry in earnest. “You… said I was beautiful and desirable. I know you want me.”
I flung her hand away in disgust and moved around behind her, opening the door to the room. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Jane! I said that in a subjective way, as in there is someone out there for you, but I sure as hell didn’t mean me! I don’t even believe that Daniel was in a relationship with you. He sure as shit didn’t act like it that one time I saw him in your room. You’re delusional!”
She stared at me with wide, teary eyes, and I didn’t feel one pang of sympathy. I couldn’t stand the sight of her.
“Please go. I’m half asleep. I need you to leave. Now!” I waved through the open door.
She physically started when I shouted the word. “But you said… you said…” Tears tumbled down her face, the mixture of darkness and the light from the main room casting her face and body into shadows.
“I said; I’m. Married!” I grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the little room, letting go of her like her flesh burned mine and horrified about what almost happened. “Do you know the damage you’ve done to my life?”
“I saved you.”
“Bullshit! You wrecked me, but I’ll be damned if I let it happen anymore. Stay away from me; stay away from Julia!”
I went back in and slammed the door in her face, my chest heaving. I threw the lock in place and fell heavily on the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees and both hands in my hair. I was physically exhausted and mentally shaken by what just happened, and the sleeping pill made my eyes heavy. My heart ached that I touched Jane at all, that she was on my lap, grinding on my dick; even if I wasn’t conscious, I felt like hell about it. I hadn’t touched anyone but Julia since before I’d almost kissed her on the dance floor the night I got accepted to Harvard. I felt sick to my stomach and all the more determined to bring her home. She belonged with me, and I was through playing these games. From now on, I was going to follow my gut and not let my stupid, misguided sense of duty fuck up what was important to me.
I moved to get up, anxious to get the hell out of there. However, my head was dizzy, and I helplessly sank back down. I wasn’t going to be able to get home until I got the meds out of my system. I lay down on my back, pulling the blanket over me and flinging my arm over my eyes. I hated the drugged-induced stupor that took me out of control of my body, but I was just so damned tired. I had no choice but to sleep it off.
*****
I rushed up the stairs from the subway, taking them two at a time. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I took the last five blocks at a dead run. Once I’d woken up enough to remember that I was going to find Julia, I started to formulate a plan. I knew she was in Paris now, but how would I find her? The magazine was the obvious starting point. No doubt, it was the job she was offered last year, which worried me enough to give me pause. Maybe she wouldn’t want to come home. I ran my hand through my hair and dug the key out of my pocket. I had to bring her home, no matter what her commitments were. Some things were more important than others.
There was no getting around calling the magazine at this point, and I dialed Julia’s office phone on my way up the elevator. It went directly into voicemail, but it wasn’t Julia’s voice; it was Andrea, her assistant. My mind processed it. It meant it probably wasn’t planned. Given everything that had happened, it was the only thing that made sense. She was running from me, not taking the job for the job’s sake.
Thank you for calling the office of Julia Matthews, Creative Director for Vogue New York. Julia is on assignment out of the country until further notice. For magazine related business, please contact Denise Schrader at 718-586-705. If this is an emergency, please contact Andrea King via my cell, at 212-867-9388.
I ran the number over and over in my head as I ended the call and started another one. My thumb dialed the number as I pushed through the door of my apartment and headed to the bedroom.
“Andrea, this is Ryan Matthews. I know she’s in Paris, and I’m on my way there. Can you please tell me where I can find her? I’d appreciate you keeping this between us. Thanks.”
After I left the message, I shrugged out of my coat and left it on the couch. I’d peeled off the shirt to my scrubs before I’d reached the bedroom. Ten minutes and a quick shower later, I threw on my black silk boxers and sat down at the laptop to book my flight. I didn’t dick around with Expedia or other fare fighter sites, I went directly to the airline and found the next available flight that still gave me enough time to get to the airport and through security. I’d set my wallet next to the computer and whipped out my American Express card. Before I could finish booking my flight, my phone buzzed. The number I’d called before flashed without a name. Andrea was texting.
OMG! I’m so glad to hear from you.
Fear closed in around my heart as my thumbs flew across the keys on my iPhone.
Is she okay?
Barely.
What’s wrong?
Flu. And really down. When will you be here?
I sighed in relief.
My plane leaves in about 3 hours. It’s a direct flight, but with the time difference, I land about 8 AM, Paris time, Sunday morning. If the flight’s on time.
I finished my reservation while I waited for Andrea’s response.
We’re staying at L’Empire Paris. Sunday morning, she’ll be at a café at 9 or 10… she always goes. I can’t remember the name, but I’ll find out. Unless you want to wait at the hotel? I’ll get both addresses and text you later. Have a safe flight!
I wrote down the confirmation number for my flight on an old receipt I found stuffed in my wallet and noted I had about a hundred and twenty dollars cash. I’d most likely need more. Surely, they’d have currency exchange at the airport. Credit cards were always an option. I picked
up the phone and slammed out my last response to Andrea.
Thanks. Pls send the name of the café when you can. Don’t tell her I’m coming. Pls.
Her response was fast.
I won’t!
Thanks, again.
All that was left was to pack. Problem was, I hadn’t done much laundry. I went into the closet and pulled down my suitcase. I didn’t need this big damn thing, but my duffle was stored inside. I only planned on taking a couple of things. I threw it across the unmade bed and swiftly unzipped it, flinging open the top, and went to gather a couple pair of jeans, a handful of T-shirts, I pulled one button-down out of the closet—hanger and all, my black shoes, and a belt. I got dressed in a hurry, and sat on the bed next to the suitcase to pull on my white socks. The place was a mess, but given the events of the past few weeks, I hadn’t cleaned a thing. Laundry piled up, dishes in the sink, a thick coating of dust on the furniture, and the trash overflowed. I’d have to take that out or the place would stink to high heaven when we got back.
I realized I was starting to think in ‘we’ again, but I was nervous. If I were honest with myself, I wasn’t sure she’d come home with me willingly. We hadn’t talked since the night after she left. I huffed. I had no one to blame but myself for not answering her calls and texts, but I was so damn angry and hurt. I’d never wanted to hurt her before this, and the fact that I had deliberately cut her off, nagged at my gut. I’d most likely regret it; however, I still struggled with her lack of trust.
I lifted the duffle out of the suitcase, ready to stuff the pile of clothes waiting on the bed into it. Beneath it was a package; glimmering gold wrapping paper and a filmy red ribbon with gold sparkling edges. It was beautifully wrapped and had Julia’s stamp all over it. My focus shifted from packing as I lifted it out of the suitcase. There wasn’t a name on it, but then, we never put names on the gifts we gave each other. My hand ran lightly over the edges. Obviously, it was a frame.
I slid to the floor and leaned against the foot of the bed, the package in my lap. My heart quickened and felt heavy in my chest. I sat, realizing this was why Julia got so upset on Christmas Eve. It was more than the shoes from Jane; it was more than our interrupted evening. Tears burned the back of my eyes before I even opened it. It was going to be something profound. I felt it in the depths of my soul. Something she’d drawn. My hands were shaking. I was almost scared to open it, afraid it would slice me open, but I had to know what was inside.
Slowly, I forced myself to pull off the ribbon. I leaned my head back on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes. Not looking, I ripped through the center of the paper, so when I looked down, I’d have no choice but to see what it was. I swallowed hard and forced myself to look at what I held in my hands.
My breath stopped and tears started to roll as my hand traced the little cherub face through the glass.
“Oh, my God.” I could see us both in that face. My eyes, but green, little dimples, the shape of her face… My heart slammed against my ribs, and I felt like steel bands were wrapped around my lungs, preventing me from breathing. I pulled the picture to my chest and sobbed my heart out. She couldn’t have given me anything that could mean more than this. Just as I’d written her that poem, she’d poured her heart into this knowing how much it would mean to me. I wiped my eyes and nose on a dirty T-shirt laying next to the bed, then rose to my feet, pushing the rest of the paper off the corners and letting it fall to the floor.
I set it on the bed, staring at it. I shook my head and blinked at the tears still clinging to my lashes. Then I shoved my clothes in the duffle and zipped it closed, flung it over my shoulder, and grabbed my coat, phone and keys. Stopping, I ran back into the bedroom and dug around in my underwear drawer until my hand landed on the passport shoved in the back.
“I would have been fucked if I’d forgotten you,” I mumbled and jammed it in the inside breast pocket of my coat. I fumbled at the door, my shaking hands struggling to lock it. I flew down the stairs, not bothering with the elevator, and stood in the middle of the street so the cab coming at me had no choice but to stop.
“Hey, buddy, can’t you see?” He pointed to the top of his cab where his light was off. “I’m not taking fares right now.”
I opened the door anyway and slid in anyway. “This is an emergency. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you’ll take me to JFK.”
I held up the bill between two fingers and handed it to him through the small hole in the plexiglass divider. He took it and nodded. “International terminal. Air France.”
I felt better after I’d made the decision to return to Ryan but my stomach fluttered in apprehension of my talk with Meredith. She’d be furious, and I didn’t know if the publisher in New York would give me my job back or if I’d even have a job. One thing my stupid little stint had proven was that Ryan was all that mattered. I knew it before, but the time apart hammered it into my heart like never before. I didn’t care if we were homeless and starving, the only way I could be happy was if we were together. If that meant I had to suck up the crap with Jane, I’d learn to deal with it.
As I got closer to the office she was using, situated two floors above mine, my stomach heaved, and I had to duck into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror, telling myself to breath through my nose to quell the nausea. Breathe. Just Breathe.
I felt the bile rise up, and I bolted into one of the stalls to lurch into the toilet. I puked until I had nothing left inside and then pulled some toilet paper from the roll and wiped at my face. My eyes were watering slightly and my stomach felt better, but my skin felt clammy. I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek and went to the sink, turning on the water and scooping some up with my hand to rinse the sour taste out my mouth. “Gross.”
When I straightened, I examined my sharp navy suit in the mirror to make sure I hadn’t gotten vomit on it. I grimaced. My hair was up in a messy bun, and my face was pale, my eyes wider than normal. Well, it was now or never.
I walked on shaky legs to the mahogany door. It was cracked slightly, and when I peered in, Meredith waved me in.
“Where are you taking me for lunch?” she asked with a bright smile. “Things are going well, huh? I expected Monique to whine about you, but instead, she sings your praises.”
I hovered just inside the door. “I like her. She’s got good instincts, and she catches on quickly. I think the team has really come around.”
Meredith bobbed her head, her hair sleek. She was perfection, as always. Her magenta lipstick perfectly matched the bright trim on her black suit.
“We can go to lunch, Mere, but I really need a minute.”
She glanced up from the financial report on her desk. “Sure. What is it? You want a raise?” Her voice was amused, and she kept right on working.
I sat down, needing to get her attention. “Meredith.” I smoothed the fabric of my navy wool skirt over my thighs and folded my hands in my lap. “I need to go back to New York.”
She glanced up. “Okay. You can take a week off in about a month. That should be about the halfway point over here. I planned on suggesting it anyway.”
I took a deep breath. “No. I need to go home.”
She put her pen down and dropped the report. “What?”
“My place is in New York. I explained before, Ryan and I were fighting…”
“And you just thought you’d use me and this company as an excuse to save your little ass?”
“It wasn’t saving my ass. I just thought we needed a little break.”
“And now, you’ve had some epiphany, that your wonderful Ryan is perfect again?”
I was unnerved. I moved to the edge of the chair to stop my fidgeting. “No. Ryan isn’t perfect. And it’s no epiphany. You’re right. I was wrong to take this job right now, but I’ve done my best here. They don’t need me anymore.”
“That’s a load of crap!” Her lips pressed into a thin line and red splotches were cropping up around the neckline of her white blouse.
“M
eredith, you just said that things were going well! I can help her from New York! Just like I did that assignment for John from here. Technology makes it completely doable.”
She only heard the first sentence. “Yes, they’re going well. But you’ve only just started over here, Julia. Who’s to say what will happen if you bail now? I expect you to man up and finish what you started. You’ll go home in a month. For a visit.”
“Manning up means taking care of my marriage! That’s the thing I need to finish. I’m going home, Meredith. With or without your blessing.”
I pulled on the left sleeve of my jacket, my fingers coming into contact with the bracelet that I hadn’t removed since the night Ryan forced it back on. “I’m leaving as soon as I can make arrangements. I suggest Mike and Andrea remain for another month.”
“If you walk out that door, you’ll be sorry, Julia! You’re throwing away your career! Is he really worth that?”
I turned around to face her, a calmness spreading over me. “He’s worth everything. I’m really sorry it has to come to this. I work my ass off for you and this company. I love my job… but not more than I love Ryan.”
