Chances & Choices (17 page)

She walked into their bedroom.
  The closet was open.  She walked over to it and touched one of his shirts and then moved on to one of his jackets.  She bent towards it, revelling in the faint essence of tangy cologne which reminded her of its wearer.

Passing on into his bathroom, she drank in the reminders of his presence - his robe hanging on the hook, his shaver, his hairbrush.
  She picked it up, running her hand along the fine natural bristle, picking out the one or two dark hairs, rolling them between thumb and forefinger before dropping them in the wastebasket.

She put the brush down and picked up his bottle of aftershave, unscrewed the top and inhaled the scent.
  It was faintly disappointing, lacking the necessary intermingling with his skin.  The sound of the door made her drop the bottle, hardly registering that it shattered on the floor.

She rushed out, down the hallway and threw herself into his arms, with a fervour that almost knocked him off balance.
 Burying her face in his chest, she clung to him as if he were a lone rock in a troubled sea.

"Whoa, that's quite a welcome.
  Does this mean you're glad to see me?"

If only he knew how glad.
  She pushed against him trying to get as close as possible.  So close he would shut out the rest of the world and most of all those awful words of Richard's.  Lifting her head, she put her hand behind his head and drew his lips down to her own. 

She kissed him feverishly, hoping he would pick up on her need and sweep her off and make passionate love to her.
  So passionate that all doubts would leave her, and she would know their love was real and their marriage not a mistake.

Only he didn't.

He returned her kiss and then drew away, murmuring in her hair.  "Now that was worth driving home for."  He ran his hands down her back and placed an absent-minded pat on her bottom before walking away from her into the kitchen.  Claire felt deflated and more than a little irritated.

"You're late!" she flung after his moving back.
  He didn't even break stride.

"Honey, you wouldn't believe the day I've had."
   He reached the fridge and peered inside.  "It's a good thing I was only gone a week."

Oh great, she thought.
  First he rejects me and now he implies he shouldn't have taken time off for our honeymoon.

"Why didn't you return my call?"

"Did you call?"

His voice was muffled coming from the interior of the fridge.
  It was all Claire could do not to kick the target he presented, as he bent over rummaging among the contents.  Honestly, he seemed more interested in them than in her.  He came out of the fridge, munching on a carrot stick, a carton of milk in his hand.  Taking a glass from the dishwasher, he filled it with milk.  Looking over his shoulder, he held up the carton.

"Want some?"

Claire breathed deeply.  "No"

He put the carton back in the fridge.
  Turning, he leaned back against the counter and held up the glass.  "It's good for you," he said before taking a sip.

Claire's lips tightened, the last thing she wanted was health notes.

"You didn't answer my question."

He looked over the glass at her, puzzled.

"Why didn't you return my call?" she snapped, unable to keep the edge from her voice.  If he noticed he gave no indication.

"When did you call?"

"1 don't know, nine-thirty, ten maybe."

"Ah, that explains it," he answered between munches and swallows. "I left the studio around nine.
 I haven't been back since and my cell battery died but I was so caught up with meetings I didn't even notice.  Sorry."

Claire was not appeased.
  If anything, she resented the fact he had a reasonable excuse.  Julian looked around the kitchen, when he spoke there was a hopeful note in his voice.

"You don't happen to have something delicious hidden around here, do you?
  I missed lunch."

It was the last straw.
  All the pent-up tension that had been building inside her, beginning with the unfamiliar drive to work was released.

"No, I don't!
 I didn't realise I was expected to commence my domestic duties, immediately!"

He put the glass down.
  If he hadn't known she was upset before, he certainly knew now.

"Sorry.
  It doesn't matter, we can eat out."

His patience only served to fuel her anger.
  "Oh really.  Where?  Where in this godforsaken hole will we find somewhere close enough before we starve to death!  Do you have any idea how long it took me to drive to work this morning?  I was late!  Late!  I'm never late!

Julian sighed.
  "I'm sorry, I guess I'm not the only one whose had a rotten day.  Want to tell me about it?"

Why did he have to keep apologising?
  Why was he always so understanding? 
"Sure!"
she wanted to scream. 
"Sure.  I'll tell you about it.  I met an old flame and I discovered he still lights my fire.  Wildfire!"

Maybe she could shake him if she said,
"As a matter of fact, I was almost unfaithful to you with him on my office floor!"

Maybe that would put a dent in that perfect control of his.
  And maybe it wouldn't.  It suddenly occurred to Claire that in all the years she had known Julian, she had never seen him lose his temper.  Not once.  She'd seen him irritated, annoyed, but never really blazing mad.  And he didn't just exercise control with respect to his temper.  He exercised control in every aspect of his life.  Except, perhaps, his sense of humour.  Maybe that was why she loved to hear him laugh, because it was the only thing about him that was unrestrained.  Remembering their courtship and lovemaking, it began to dawn on Claire that he even controlled his love for her.

Her anger left her.
  She didn't feel resentful anymore; she just felt depressed and strangely defeated.

"No," she answered him.
  "And I don't want anything to eat either.  I'm going to take a bath."

Julian laid his head against the fridge, aware of a feeling of failure, which quickly gave way to annoyance.
  He didn't need this.  Today had been sheer hell.  Everyone who had been unable to see him last week had been clamouring to see him today.  And the nature of the business required he go to them.  The warehouse to approve fabrics, his factory, the room for his latest showing; the list had been endless.  He felt as if he had driven clear across the city twice; she wasn't the only one who had to contend with traffic.

What was the matter with her anyway?
  She'd been all over him when he came in.  Maybe that was it.  Alright, so he hadn't been very ardent, but he was tired and hungry.  He had missed lunch.  His question had been perfectly understandable.  She'd probably been home for at least an hour.  He would have fixed something if he'd been home before her.  He drained the last of the milk and helped himself to another carrot stick.  He glared at it.  Domestic duties indeed.

Walking down the few steps to the living room, he rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to ease the tension.
  He poured himself a drink.  Probably not a good idea on an empty stomach, but he was past caring.  Lying lengthways on the couch, he rested his head on the arm and closed his eyes.  Feeling himself nodding off, he sat up immediately.  She'd really blow her top if she came out from her bath to find him asleep on the couch.  Rising reluctantly, he went back to the drinks cabinet and mixed a second drink the way he knew Claire liked it.

The bedroom was empty; she must still be in the bath.
  He sat on the bed and eased off his shoes and socks and took off his tie before bringing Claire her drink.  His knock elicited a grudging "Come in."  She took the drink as if she were doing him a favour.  The despondent look he'd last seen was gone.  She'd obviously spent the intervening time brewing over her grievances, whatever they were.  At least she hadn't yelled at him to go away.

He had a brief glimpse of one pinkened nipple peeping above the bubbles as she extended her arm for the glass, and he felt the desire she had failed to raise in him earlier rising to the fore now.
  He might as well forget it, from the look on her face, she was not in the mood for romance.

"Are you sure you don't want to go out?
  There are some good places not far from here, you know that."

Claire knew it, but she wasn't about to admit it.
  "Alright, I suppose we have to eat somewhere."

He looked relieved.
 "Good. I'll just go and freshen up."

Claire sunk deeper into the bath and began to feel slightly ashamed.
  He did look tired and if he had missed lunch he was probably ravenous.  She really should have fixed something.  Claire pushed the thought from her mind, not willing to be reminded of why she hadn't.  She sat up, a quick remembrance making her call out.

"Julian don't ...," but his bitten off expletive told her she was too late.

He came hopping into the bathroom, as she sank back down into the water, and sat on the end of the tub before pulling out the piece of glass embedded in his foot.

"Why didn't you warn me?"
  He flashed her a look of barely concealed annoyance.

"I'm sorry, I forgot."
  She had the grace to look guilty.

"What were you doing in there, anyway?"

The knowledge of exactly what she had been doing in there made her defensive.  "I didn't realise I had to ask permission ..." but her voice trailed off when she saw the blood welling up in the vicious cut.

"Stay there, I'll take care of it."

He had started to rise, but sat down again after she spoke.  Grabbing a bath towel, she wrapped it around herself, but not before he was treated to an enticing glimpse of her naked body.  Unaware of the effect the tantalising sight had caused, she took some iodine and band-aids from the medicine chest.  Kneeling before him, she cleaned the wound, wincing along with him when she applied the stinging liquid.  It wasn't until she had placed a band-aid firmly over the cut that she looked up and noticed the light in his eyes.

She sat back on her heels and felt once again the tenderness she had first felt over two months ago, but which was now familiar.
  When he reached down and drew her up onto his lap, the idea of resisting him never entered her head.  She nestled against him, her fingers playing with the open-collar of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it out on you.
  It's not your fault."

He didn't know to what she was really referring and Claire did not enlighten him.
  He cradled her in his arms and whispered against her ear, sending shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter now.
  I think I know just the thing that might ease both our tension."

She giggled and drew her tongue teasingly across the vee exposed by his opened shirt.
  She heard his inhaled breath and then he was kissing her.  His lips moved over her eyes, across her cheeks, until she heard his voice again.

"Don't ever cut your hair short, Claire."

"Why, don't you think I would suit it short?"

She knew how he felt about her hair, but she didn't think he would actually tell her not to cut it.
  But her tone held only mild surprise, all resentment had left her when she noticed the light of love in the emerald depths of his eyes.

His voice was a husky whisper.
  "Oh, you probably would, but you would be denying me a true pleasure if I were unable to let it down - like this."

She felt tears pricking her eyes and she found herself saying.
  "Oh, Julian, I love you.  I really do."

The words were uttered more for her reassurance than his, but some of the anxiety she felt must have become apparent, because he held her away from him, his face concerned.

"Come on, love.  It would take more than tonight's little episode to make me doubt that.  And you'll have to do a lot more than blow up at me to make me stop loving you."

What would it take, she thought.
  What would it take to make him doubt her love?  And what would it take to make him stop loving her?  The knowledge that she doubted her own love of him?  And what would it take to split them apart?  The lure of another man's passion; she prayed not.  She raised her eyes to his, wondering if her doubts were written there for him to read.  If they were he failed to notice.  He kissed her, and for the moment, her doubts were laid to rest by their lovemaking.

The restaurant Julian chose was quiet and intimate.  The atmosphere was pleasant, the service efficient, and the food was good.  Claire felt very guilty as she watched him wolf down his meal.  How could she have been so selfish?  He looked up from his empty plate and his gaze travelled to her half-empty one.  He shrugged and picked up his wineglass.

"I told you I was hungry."
  He took a sip of the deep ruby liquid and then his eyes were laughing at her over the rim.  "Don't look so stricken, Claire.  It won't do me any harm.  A lot of people really know what it's like to starve.  A small taste of hunger is always good for the soul."