“What’s a Gladys?” he says sneaking something into the oven.
“She’s always saying that I’m skinny, but I don’t think I am, do you?” Tristan shakes his head at me.
“It wouldn’t bother me what weight you were Coral,” he says, sitting down opposite me.
“That’s not an answer.” I huff feeling annoyed.
“Ok, I think you look amazing as you are. If you lost weight, I would be worried you had an eating disorder, if you gained weight it wouldn’t make any difference to how I feel about you. But you probably do look very slim to Gladys, she’s pretty plump.” He says cheekily.
“Not as plump as she was,” I mumble to myself. “So you bought a pudding to surprise me, not fatten me up?” I finally let the grin spread across my face.
“Precisely,” he says sipping more wine. “Happens to be my favourite too you know. It’s was my Grandmothers speciality,” he says smacking his lips together – I wish he wouldn’t do that, they already look tantalizingly good!
We gaze at one another, the atmosphere charging with electricity again. Tristan leans forward and takes my hand. “So is it safe to say I can ask you out on a date?” I frown. “Is that a no?” He smiles cheekily, his dimples deepening.
“No, it’s not a no. I just hate that word.” I grumble.
“What word?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Date.” I say taking a gulp of wine. “It has so many hidden implications,” I sigh.
Tristan frowns. “I really want to wine and dine you Coral, spoil you rotten.”
I lean back, take my hand out of his and run it through my hair. “I don’t need you to do that.” I argue.
“Then what do you need Coral?” He asks his expression serious.
“Tristan, I think we’re past all that kind of stuff...I think it’s quite evident how we both feel.” I frown even harder, hearing myself say that out loud is weird.
“Tell me what you want?” He says huskily.
“This is nice.” I whisper placing my hand back in his. Tristan’s eyes darken as he rubs his thumb over the top of my hand.
“Yes, it is.” He agrees.
The oven chimes pulling us both out of the little bubble that seems to surround us...
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I AM SAT BLOWING COLD AIR onto my steaming bread and butter pudding. I really want to dig in, but it’s just too hot.
“Your turn,” I say to Tristan.
“My turn?” He questions.
“Yes, tell me about your upbringing and your Grandparents.”
Tristan shrugs. “There’s not much to say really.” I roll my eyes, but I can see it’s not really something he can easily discuss. Tough!
“Ok, I’ll help. Where were you raised?” I ask cheerily.
“Maidenhead,” he replies.
“Ooh, very nice,” I answer playfully.
“You?” I cock one eyebrow up at him. “I mean before you came here,” he adds.
“Somerset,” I grumble.
“Ever been back?” he questions. I decide not to answer that one.
“Hey, this is meant to be my twenty questions.” I argue, Tristan grins. I can see what game he’s playing but it won’t work. “So did you go to your Grandparents, or did they relocate for you?”
“No, they had lived in Maidenhead all their life, so it was logical for me to stay with them.” I nod as I listen to his reply.
“So how old were your Grandparents when you went to live with them?”
“Granny was fifty, Gramps was fifty-five.”
I shake my head in amazement. “I bet they didn’t think they’d be doing it all over again at their age.” Then I realise how awful that sounded. “Sorry,” I whisper. “That didn’t come out right.” I scowl in frustration at myself.
“It’s ok,” he frowns. “It hit them pretty hard when my mother died, of course I was a newborn I had no idea. But they said having me, helped them both deal with it. You know lost a child gained a grandson.” I nod solemnly.
“So what was it like being raised by the previous generation?”
“Good mostly, they were very kind, patient people.” I can tell it’s still painful for him to talk about them, I can see it in his face, although he’s hiding it well.
“Tristan, I’m sorry, this must still feel so raw to you we can talk about something else.” I offer feeling guilty.
“No, no, it’s ok really. I miss them, but I also like remembering them too. You can ask me questions about them.” He prompts.
I smile tentatively at him and continue. “What was it like growing up an only child?”
“That was difficult at times, but again my Grandparents were really open, honest people, they didn’t hide anything. They would talk about their past, their mistakes. So if I got something wrong, or I didn’t know how to deal with something, they were always there for me with open arms, they never judged me.”
“They sound like they were awesome,” I say smiling as I do. Then I frown wishing I’d had that kind of start in life.
“With that kind of stuff they were,” he says trying to hide something, but I’m getting to know him better, I can see through his facade.
“So what were the negatives Tristan, there has to be some?”
“There were, but they weren’t bad enough to make it so my childhood seemed traumatised.” He bites – Was that a dig at me? Ouch that hurt! “Damn it Coral, I didn’t mean…” Tristan sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. “I…I was bullied....a lot.” He picks up his wine and takes a large gulp.
“You were?” I squeak in surprise, he’s such a tall, big, manly man. I can't imagine him ever being bullied.
“Yes, until Gramps found out and he taught me to box.” He adds, grinning widely. That’s it! – I knew it! I knew there was something else there, something I couldn’t put my finger on. And now I know. I instantly feel even more protected (if that’s possible) I was right; Tristan can look after himself, which means me too.
“Ok, back up why were you bullied?”
“Boys will be boys,” he answers, then takes a spoonful of pudding and eats it.
“What, you went to a boy’s school?” Tristan nods. “So did you get the bully back?” I grin hoping he’ll say yes. I hate bullies. I take a spoonful of pudding too.
“Oh yeah, he never came at me again and neither did his mates. I was so mad and so tired of all their bullshit.” Tristan scoops some more pudding.
“What bullshit?” I take another spoonful.
“Kids are kids right? Whatever they can take the piss out of they do, so they took the piss out of the fact that my parents were old, they took the piss out of my clothes’ – “What was wrong with your clothes?” I squeak, my spoon frozen midair.
“They were awful, second hand and definitely not in fashion.”
“Oh.” I frown trying to understand him, what he went through.
Tristan continues. “I was one of those quiet kids, you know. I didn’t cause trouble, I paid attention in class, but I was a loner, always have been, I guess I always will be. I didn’t really feel the need for friends, so I guess that made me a sitting duck, because I wasn’t like them. They needed each other for validation, but I didn’t need anyone but my folks. Besides what good were friends that bully you, make you feel like shit, to me that’s not a friend.”
I look down at the table, trying to imagine what that felt like as a kid. “What else did they bully you about?” I nervously ask.
Tristan sighs. “Clothes, shoes, bag, coat, pencil case, you name it they took the piss out of it.”
“Why?” I question, trying to understand.
Tristan shrugs. “We didn’t have much money.” I can tell there’s more there, but I decide to leave it be.
“That sucks.” I say frowning hard.
“Yeah, but I kind of didn’t care.” Tristan eats more pudding.
“Why?” I eat more too.
“Because I knew I had b
etter parents than them.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because I was…happy,” he says simply.
“And they weren’t?” I conclude.
“Nope, the leader his Dad was...” Tristan trails off and looks down at his pudding.
“Was what?” I ask totally enthralled in his story.
“An alcoholic,” he answers still looking at his pudding.
I sigh heavily. “Yeah...guess there are lots of parents around like that.” I say bitterly. We both eat more pudding. But I want to know more so I chew quickly and swallow, Tristan’s on a roll I want to keep him going. “So his Dad was a drunk? Bet he was having a hard time at home.” I muse.
“You on the bullies side now?” I look up from my pudding, Tristan is stony faced.
“No, of course not,” I gripe. “I just...never mind,” I say shaking my head. “So what about the other kids?”
Tristan shrugs. “I don’t know I could just tell the other kids didn’t have it easy either. It was a tough school you know, lower class kids, rough parents. I don’t think any of them made anything of themselves.”
“Except you,” I say proudly.
“In the business world, yes,” he grins. I frown at him. “I got expelled,” he chuckles.
“Expelled?” I gasp. “Well that makes two of us,” I add, wondering how much more stuff is going to come up where Tristan and I seem identical.
“You…expelled,” he chuckles.
“Um...yeah, I kind of had anger issues.” Tristan loses his grin. “Anyway enough about me, you were expelled for fighting I presume?”
“Yes, well that’s how they saw it. Gramps saw it differently of course, he went to the education board they agreed to let me be home schooled. Gran was my tutor.” I throw down my spoon. “What’s wrong?” He asks his spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Nothing, it’s just weird how many similarities we seem to have. Gladys home schooled me.” I tell him.
“Ah,” Tristan eats more pudding.
“What age for you?” I ask totally intrigued.
“Nine.”
I gasp aloud. “You were nine?”
“Um...yeah, you?” Tristan doesn’t understand my surprise.
“Fourteen, I did the last year at home.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” We sit silently for a while, enjoying our puddings. “Did you like it, studying from home?” I ask.
“Yeah I did, no more crap from other kids. But I got a little lonesome sometimes, for company my own age I mean.”
“Like a buddy to go hang around the woods with, or go on a bike ride with?” Tristan shakes his head at me.
“There weren’t any woods, and I didn’t have a bike.” Tristan says.
“Well what did you have?” I ask.
Tristan sighs. “See this is what most people can’t get their head around’ Most people? ‘All those things that you’re talking about are material possessions right?”
“Yeah?” I say hesitantly.
“Well I was bought up to understand from a very early age that it means nothing, sure it’s nice to have things, but to put anything like that against a loved one, was, well…shallow.”
“It’s not shallow to want a bike when you’re a kid Tristan.” I argue.
“I know that, but I didn’t feel the need for one.”
“Why not?” This is weird.
“I just didn’t. I wasn’t like other kids Coral. I hadn’t been brought up that way. I mean, I get what you’re saying - Didn’t I ever want to play? Yeah course I did and when I wanted to I did, with my dog, we’d play in the garden for hours.” Tristan looks frustrated. “Look I was always with either Grandparent. At weekends I’d either be learning how to cook, or get a coal fire going with Gran, or I’d be learning with Gramps how to make things like chairs and cupboards and...” he trails off and stares into space.
“He was a carpenter?” I ask calmly.
“Yes.”
“And your Gran, did she work?”
“No, she wanted to be a housewife.”
“I’m sorry Tristan. I wasn’t knocking you or the way you were raised, just trying to get in your head so I know how you feel, that’s all.”
“Know the feeling,” he retorts with sarcasm. I sigh heavily. Why are we arguing?
“What was your dog’s name?” I ask brightly.
“Max.”
“What kind of dog was he?”
“Border Collie.”
“They’re cute and real intelligent right?”
“Yep.” Tristan seems to have withdrawn into himself. I don't understand it at all.
“You know, I understand my reasons for clamming up about my past, but I don’t understand yours?”
“Nobody gets it that’s why, and I always get ‘the look’ it’s very annoying.” I tense up feeling the frustration rolling off Tristan.
“Am I giving you the look?” I ask sullenly. Our eyes finally meet after what seems like a long time. Tristan silently shakes his head at me, and I don’t know why, but I get up from my chair and walk round to him. “Turn around.” I say.
Tristan moves so his legs are in front of him, I take a seat on his lap and wrap my hands around his neck, his arms slowly snake their way around my waist.
“I think it’s beautiful the way you were raised, because it’s made you who you are today. And who you are right now....it’s almost as though it’s all pre-ordained. Like I was meant to go through what I went through and you were raised like that, so one day when we met, we would be perfect for each other. I love that you are who you are. You’re the only straight guy I’ve ever…felt...” I trail off, then I go into a mini panic. I just used the word Love! Fuck!
“I think what I’m trying to say is that your upbringing turned you into a great man, a really wonderful, kind loving man. The kind that’s perfect for me...” Breathe Coral.
“None of my exes thought that.” Tristan says surprising me again. “And I’m far from perfect,” he adds glumly.
“Well I’m glad they thought that because it means I get to have you.” Am I really saying this?
“Well according to my exes I’m boring, predictable...oh and too nice.”
“I’m sorry Tristan but that’s bullshit, if anyone’s boring it’s me.”
“Believe me Coral, you are the opposite of boring.” He says gazing up at me. I close my eyes for a second then lean my forehead against his.
“Well just for the record you are not boring or predictable. You’re dependable and sweet and charming and well-mannered, which I love. And as for being too nice, that’s just crap...you really must have dated some hard hearted bitches, who evidently wanted to get themselves hooked up with some shallow, vain, bad-boy that would treat them like crap.” I open my eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly after my little rant.
“I think you have more to offer than you could ever imagine Coral, but that’s probably because you don’t seem to see yourself very clearly – or think you’re worthy.” He adds. Whoa! Nail on the head Tristan. I take in a deep ragged breath. What am I doing?
“You know, I never thought I would meet someone like you, maybe it’s the age difference, I don’t know? Point is, I love that you have all those qualities and more. I will always know where I stand with you. There’s no pretence, no bull-shit, no secrets. You’re a straight up guy Tristan, and for me, that’s like a dream come true...” I gaze down at his lips. “I’m glad all those women let you go.” I say breathlessly.
His eyes are seeing straight through me again. I can feel the pull resonating from him, my heart is hammering, my stomach is swarming with butterflies and my soul feels like it’s just expanded a thousand fold.
“You know I’m in love with you don’t you.” Tristan says his voice all low and husky. My mouth pops open in shock. Did he really just say that? I scowl at him. He can’t be, we don’t know each other. This is weird.
Tristan shakes his head. “I know that soun
ds odd, coming from someone you hardly know, but there isn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t do for you, whatever you want, it is yours.”
Holy fuck! I let out a raspy breath, lean my forehead against his, and close my eyes. I feel his hands make their way through my hair, his thumbs stroking my cheeks, and in that moment I know I have to tell him, I have to let him know. I pull my head up from his and open my eyes.
“I’m warning you Tristan, I don’t really know how to be close to you...I don’t even know if I can be...intimate.” I say, my voice sounding raspy and breathless.
Tristan closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “Coral, don’t you know?” he whispers huskily, opening his eyes as he does. “Just being with you is enough – more than enough. I want to be your man baby, you just have to say yes and I’ll show you, I’ll show you how you can build trust with me, how I’ll protect you. We can take this real slow, day by day. I’m yours,” he adds, gently stroking my hair as he does. I place my hand against his cheek. This feels so deep already, it’s really scaring me.
“Hey,” Tristan lifts my chin. “I don’t want to frighten you off. Did I just do that?” He questions.
“Kind off…” I whisper, trying to pull my gaze away from his.
“Shit!” Tristan runs his hand through his hair in frustration. I instantly feel bad, I’m sat on his lap telling him how great he is – which he is – and then I’m half running out the door when he declares himself to me – Fuck it! – I have to stop all this bullshit.
I place my other hand against his cheek, run my thumb across his bottom lip and stare down at his parted lips. I will be brave. I will kiss this man and see once and for all if I can really do this, the moment is just too beautiful to pass by.
I lean down, my lips inches from his – “Hello?” Knock, knock, knock.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I hiss. “It’s Gladys,” I add gritting my teeth. Tristan nods, understanding that like it or not, she will be coming in.
I feel myself deflate like a balloon. I get up from his lap, walk over to the door, pull the curtain across and open the door to Gladys and Malcolm.
“Ooh, do I smell Roast Dinner?” She slurs, leaning in to kiss my cheek. Oh great! She’s tipsy we’ll never get rid of her now!
CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1) Page 35
