CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1)

by Delaney, Clair

  “How did it go?” Tristan asks, clasping my hand in his. I feel a little hesitant to answer him. I don't want Stuart to overhear our conversation.

  “Good,” I answer, not wanting to give away anymore and gaze out of the window.

  Yesterday when we had finished our mad shopping spree, Tristan asked me if I wanted to stay at his house while he’s away, but I declined. Seeing it again made me remember how I was feeling about him when we first viewed it; how scared I was, still am if I’m honest. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I can feel myself spiraling down, withdrawing into myself, shutting myself away from him. Just thinking about him leaving tomorrow is filling me with dread.

  I swallow hard and try to chase away the horror.

  Of course, I didn’t tell George any of this, because I know what he will say, that I’m self-destructing the relationship, but I don’t think he’ll ever understand me, not truly. But he did say that Tristan leaving was probably a good thing, get some perspective, some distance – I frown at that thought, I’m not sure I actually want distance? But at the same time I do – I’m so confused, why can’t I just feel fucking normal, for one day…

  “Coral?” Tristan prompts.

  “Hmm,” I turn and look at Tristan, he looks worried.

  “How did it go?” He asks again.

  “Good.” I repeat.

  I hope this isn’t how it’s going to be – Tristan drilling me every time I come back from a session, because I just can’t take that, and I don’t want to open up too much to him. Things are going so well at the moment, and I don't know why, but I keep getting the feeling that he’ll run a mile when he finds out about me, I know he will.

  Because as much as George keeps telling me I can heal and repair, I’m not so sure I can, or will. Being scarred so badly as a child changes everything. When you’re a kid, you should be able to trust the adults that are around you, and when you realise you can’t, your whole world view changes, completely.

  Tristan laughs sarcastically at me. I glance across at him. “So full of information as usual,” he bites.

  “I know what you want,” I tell him staring out the window, watching the world go by.

  “I don’t think you do,” he argues.

  “You want to know everything,” I retort.

  Tristan sighs heavily as Stuart pulls up outside the gym. I watch him jump out and walk round to my door; he pulls it open and holds out his hand to me.

  “I want you to open your heart to me,” he says as I place my hand in his. I step out the car and stare down at the floor.

  “I’m trying Tristan, but the more you keep asking, the more I’ll pull away.” He lifts my chin, leans down and gently kisses my lips. I hear the car pull away. “Tristan,” I whisper wrapping my hands around his neck. “What if I can’t ever tell you? Would you be satisfied with that?”

  He softly kisses me again. “I wouldn’t really have a choice, would I?” he says. “Let’s not fight,” he adds, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “I’m leaving tomorrow, this is our last night together. Want to go through more booklets for furniture tonight?”

  “Sure.” I smile tentatively at him and we walk arm in arm towards my studio.

  What I really want to do – which I can’t tell him - Is go straight upstairs and try the one and only skirt I have on. I want to know if the Hypnotherapy has started working.

  I unlock the patio door, walk inside and without looking back at Tristan I go straight up the stairs. Reaching my closet I start pulling the neatly piled clothing out to get to the skirt at the back of the shelving, but I can’t reach it – God damn it!

  I’m right on the tips of my toes, my arm stretched to breaking point, when I hear Tristan behind me. “What are you doing?” he asks. I stop stretching and turn to look at him. I can see he’s looking around at all the clothes strewn all over my bed trying to work out what I'm doing. I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel really shy, I look down at my knotted fingers.

  “Are you looking for something?” He softly asks. I nod my head at him. “Need some help?” I finally look up at him – Please God don’t let him ask why? Or any other questions!

  “Yes please.” Tristan takes the few steps needed to reach me. “There’s a Jane Norman bag at the back, can you see it?” Tristan looks up, then leans forward and effortlessly pulls the bag out. He silently hands it to me, I can see he’s dying to ask what’s in the bag.

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “Want some help putting these away?” he asks politely. I really want him to leave, but I know my short arse can’t reach up to put it all away.

  “Please.” I carefully put the bag down so it doesn’t reveal what’s inside, then I start passing the clothes to Tristan who neatly stacks them. When were done we end up gazing at one another again.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he says a look of concern etched across his face. Tristan leans down and without touching me at all, he softly presses his lips against mine. I close my eyes surrendering to the sensation, when I open them he is gone. I didn’t even hear any of the stairs creak.

  Nervously, I pick up the bag and sit on the edge of the bed - Well here goes nothing!

  Pulling my jeans off, I pull the skirt out of the bag, closing my eyes for a second I hug it to me and say a little prayer that I won’t freak out. Standing up, I undo the zip and step my first foot in, then the second. Slowly and hesitantly I pull the skirt up and around my waist, then carefully pull the zip up.

  Taking a deep breath I prepare for the panic attack, for the shaking, for the palpitating heart, but a couple of minutes in and my breathing is normal, my heartbeat is slow and I’m not having hot or cold flushes. I fall back onto the edge of the bed and choke back tears of relief, saying a silent prayer of gratitude to Cindy and George, if it wasn’t for them – then an image flashes in my mind’s eye – No! – My five year old self is sat on that man’s lap.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the image away and yank the skirt off. Ok, Ok so it’s going to need more work but that’s never happened before, I’ve never been able to put a dress or skirt on without my body going into freefall and it didn’t, I just got the mental image! Good, this is good – I can tell George and Cindy about it all.

  Putting the skirt back in the bag and hiding it under my bed, I pull my jeans back on and skip down the stairs. Tristan is sitting on the sofa, with his laptop on his legs, I can see he’s concentrating hard, so I stand staring at him for a moment. What the hell have I done to deserve this man?

  Suddenly, he looks up and smiles warmly at me. “Hey,” Tristan shuts his laptop and pats the sofa next to him. I grin like an idiot and walk over to him. “I’m missing my kisses,” he says. Pulling me onto his lap. He kisses me hard, scattering all thoughts. I chuckle lightly at his ardour.

  “What?” He smiles deeply at me.

  “Nothing,” I say shaking my head.

  “So do you want to go through more books?” he asks sweetly.

  I don’t think I do, we have already seen so much furniture and have so many items ready to be delivered on Saturday, that the very thought of it is boring me to death. Tristan has given me his word he will be back Friday night, I’m missing him already.

  “I have a better idea,” I say and pull his lips to mine…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  IT’S FRIDAY AFTERNOON AND I’M AT WORK. I cannot stop jigging up and down in my seat. I’m so excited to see Tristan again, but also very nervous. I’ve had lots of time to think while he’s been away. I’ve tried to rationalise my feelings for him, but the harder I try, the more I keep coming to the conclusion that I am, for all intense and purposes, deeply and irrevocably in love with him – which scares me to death.

  I don’t feel like I’m ready for this, it’s just all happened so fast. Yet, when he left on Wednesday morning, I felt like the hole that has always been there in my chest had been torn wide open again, and I just wanted him back in my arms to fill it back up.
George told me that might happen; that it is one of the consequences of falling in love – Me in love? It’s still quite hard to believe.

  I’ve tried to feel excited about it, I mean most people do when they fall in love, but instead I have felt lost, no compass, no bearing, like I’m a tiny blip in the ocean, never to be found again. Maybe that’s because I have missed him so much, I feel like he’s been gone for two months, not two days.

  It actually hurts to think about him, and when I do the ache becomes more prominent, so I’ve been trying and failing badly not to picture him, or feel his arms around me, or his gorgeous full lips kissing mine.

  I have been back at work since Wednesday. Against Joyce’s wishes I caked my face in makeup so you couldn’t see the bruising, marched into work and demanded she let me come back. I couldn’t stay at my studio, it reminds me of Tristan too much. His smell is everywhere, and I keep picturing him sitting on my sofa, smiling his sexy smile at me. And every time I try to do something to take my mind off him, like reading or watching a movie, I get fidgety and restless. It’s driving me crazy, literally.

  I knew the moment I watched him walk out of my studio – after kissing me for an eternity – that I wanted him forever. But the more I think about that, the more I feel myself withdrawing, it feels safer like that, I can’t get hurt again. But being with Tristan has also made me realise what I’ve been missing, how good love can really feel. I have pictured his face a thousand times as I try to tell him goodbye, and every time I do, it literally cripples me.

  I close my eyes and remember back to Wednesday night, I thought it was going to be the hardest night of my existence – turns out it wasn’t. Tristan called me and we spent hours on the phone. I eventually fell asleep to him humming Some Enchanted Evening to me – again. I’m never going to be able to listen to that tune without thinking of him, but maybe that was his plan?

  My phone rings pulling me from my musing. I answer it in a daze, it’s the call Joyce was expecting so I pass it through to her.

  Picking up my handbag, I pull out the set of keys Tristan gave me and start fiddling with them, I’m so restless. When I agreed to take delivery of his bed yesterday, I didn’t expect to feel so odd when I went to the house. It took them ages to get the king-size bed up the two flights of stairs, which gave me too much thinking time.

  I wondered around the house in a daze, checked out the pool and cinema room, which I hadn’t seen, and then drifted back upstairs. I walked past the kitchen, and straight out onto the rear terrace. I was so lost in my own thoughts that the delivery guy had to touch my arm to get my attention; that did not go down well, I almost had a meltdown.

  When they had left, I did what I vowed to myself I wouldn’t do and I went upstairs. As I reached the master bedroom, I stared down at the big, empty bed and tried to imagine myself living there with Tristan, waking up with him, making love to him – My throat tightened at the very thought of it, and I questioned it again – Is it because I was raped that I’m feeling like this? Or is it fear of commitment, of being loved and giving love?

  I stood there for ages trying to work it out, until I realised I wasn’t going to get the answer, not without George, so tonight I have to be honest with him, whether I like it or not.

  When I got home last night, I ordered a king-size quilt and covers from Amazon, which turned up today at work, and it’s huge. It normally takes me half an hour to get to George’s from work, but with this lot to carry, and the heat, I’m definitely going to get a taxi.

  I look up at my screen, click on the images of Tristan and stare blankly at him – What is it about you that has me in knots? I shake my head at myself and try to get back to the now, to what’s going on in my life other than Tristan.

  Still no word from Rob or Carlos, and Gladys and Debs haven’t given me any new information, on the upside, I tried the skirt on again last night. I wanted to leave it a couple of days to see if it made any difference, and it didn’t – which I was pleased about. I’m really looking forward to next Tuesday, and I’m excited to see how far we can take this Hypnotherapy. Maybe it will heal me? I hope so, I want to feel pretty, feminine, sexy – I don’t want to feel like a freak anymore.

  I look up at the clock on the wall again, only another minute has passed. My stomach fills with butterflies again and I fight against the grin that involuntarily spreads across my face. Honestly, one minute I’m smiling like a fool, the next I’m feeling lost, sombre and empty – I wish Tristan would hurry back. I need to know if this is what missing someone is like, or if I’m feeling like this because I’m freaking out?

  I want Tristan, I want to bed him, I want to be as close to him as two people can get, but the very thought of it keeps sending me into a nervous frenzy.

  I sigh heavily. Concentrate Coral!

  Ok, I’m back to my routine of swimming in the morning, and I had my session last night with Will, I think he finally believed me about the bruising, because I kept getting flashbacks of Tristan and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. When Will asked for the fourth time why I was so happy, I relented and told him all about meeting Tristan, he seemed genuinely pleased for me…

  THE CLOCK ON THE WALL FINALLY chimes four o’clock. I dash out of my seat and knock on Joyce’s door. “Come.” I fling the door open.

  “Need anything before I go?” I ask in a rush.

  “No but, going somewhere?” Joyce smiles coyly at me.

  “I...um, I have a session tonight.” I tell her not wanting to get into talking about Tristan.

  “Oh,” Joyce’s face falls.

  I roll my eyes and smile at her, I can’t help myself. “Then I’m seeing Tristan,” I whisper.

  Joyce beams with pride and jumps up out of her seat. “Darling girl,” she chokes and hugs me hard. I hug her back. “It gives me such great pleasure to see you so happy...” Joyce breaks off choking back the tears. “Reminds me of how giddy I used to feel when I had a date with John, you know before we married. They are precious times, make the most of it,” she says rubbing my arm. I feel mortified that I’ve been walking around feeling so happy whilst Joyce has been in hell.

  I frown hard at my own behaviour.“I’m sorry Joyce, that’s really insensitive of me,” I murmur.

  “Nonsense.” She smiles, dabbing her tears with her handkerchief. “It gives me joy to see you so happy and he’s a lovely chap Coral, you’ve done really well there,” she says almost proudly.

  “I don’t think I really did anything,” I answer feeling shy.

  Joyce rolls her eyes at me. “Always so modest.” I snort and stare at the floor. “Are you alright darling?”

  I make myself smile. “Yes, of course.”

  Joyce frowns at me. “Want to talk about it?” I shake my head at her. “You’ve been very up and down since Tristan left,” she muses. Damn it! I thought I was hiding it.

  “Sorry Joyce.” I mumble.

  “No need, take a seat.” She points to the deep green leather sofa. Reluctantly I walk over and sit down with her. “Now then, let’s get this show on the road.”

  I frown at her. “S…sorry?” I stutter.

  “Missing him?” I scowl at my twisted hands. “Alright, going too fast?” My eyes dart up to meet hers. “I see, Coral, if that’s how you feel, you need to tell him this,” she says. “Tristan is older than you and I know he’s ready to settle down, evidently you’re not. So the two of you need to sit down and talk it through.” I nod back at her.

  “I have to say Coral, I am surprised. You’ve met a handsome, eligible man, who’s fallen deeply in love with you, yet you’re walking around as though you don’t know what to do with yourself?” How does she know this?

  “I can tell dear,” she says, patting my hand. “Coral, you probably don’t know this, but when John and I first met, we fell madly in love. My parents said it wouldn’t last because we fell so hard, so quickly, but we did last. I want you to know this so you don’t feel so afraid of it
working out so quickly.”

  “I just…” I stop, not knowing what to say.

  “Coral, do you think the two of you have a chance at working this out?” Shit!

  “I…I’m not sure.” I whisper, staring at my hands.

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes…but…” I break off again, I can't even begin to tell Joyce how I really feel; we’ll be here all night.

  “He’s a steady, hardworking man, a good man. You could do a lot worse,” she scoffs.

  “I know,” I softly say.

  “Then why are you so reluctant?” she adds in a softer tone.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I just am.”

  “Well, I can't really push you in one direction or the other, I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” she adds.

  “Thanks Joyce.” I know she cares, truly I do, but she hasn’t got a frigging clue.

  “Well, go on then, off you go,” she says ushering me out of her office with her hand.

  “Night Joyce.” I want to say have a nice weekend, but I don’t think she will, not for a long time.

  “Goodnight dear,” she smiles tentatively at me.

  As I walk out of her office, I think back on our conversation. Part of me knows she’s right, that most women would be jumping for joy at meeting such a great guy, a smart, kind, eligible bachelor – but I’m not like other women, god knows she should know that! As I walk over to my desk and start to close my computer down, I think back to her words.

  “He’s a good man, you could do a lot worse”

  “He’s older than you he’s ready to settle down”

  “He’s deeply in love with you”

  Oh Tristan! – Suddenly, the pain of losing him grips me, and I don’t mean us ending, I mean him dying; like John did. What if I take the risk and that happens to me? What if Tristan suddenly dies? What the hell am I meant to do? It’s too unbearable to even think about – I grip my stomach to stop it from turning over, and that’s when I make the decision. I have to tell him tonight, I have to. I can't hold it back any longer. It’s time for some truths.