Air Kisses (22 page)

‘It was such a lovely day, Grace. We’ve all had the best time, truly. You spoil us, you do.’ I smiled sincerely. It
had
been an amazing day until Fiona had lost the plot.

‘Oooh, good. Oh, don’t forget your goodie bag! I got you guys the
best
present!’ She clambered off her seat and bounded at breakneck speed down the boat’s stairs. As if we deserved a gift after a day of lobster and Sauvignon Blanc.

As Grace gave me my present – a stunning Missoni beach towel – the taxi pulled up. I leapt aboard and urged the driver to go. Fiona’s words swirled around my head. It was Wednesday now – we had no launches tomorrow or Friday, and I figured if we didn’t patch things up by Monday, I’d speak with her then. She was way out of line. Wasn’t she? Maybe she was on to something with her comment about me selfishly hoarding several men. After all, why was I still hanging on to Dan? He wasn’t worth any more energy than what he was putting into me, which was currently in the minus region. Jesse, well, my fascination with Jesse was fuelled partly by curiosity, partly by ego, and partly by revenge. And as for Dec – well, that was nothing more than what it had always been, and, if I thought about it, actually none of her business.

Chapter Thirty

Gabe and I had just had a lovely dinner at Spice, a small Moroccan restaurant where you sat on the carpet and ate delicious little delicacies on tasting plates, and I was in a cab on the way home.

I had, over a bottle of pinot, given him a full debrief on Hawaii, Iz leaving, Jesse’s strange behaviour, and Fiona’s bad form on the boat. It was unintentional therapy at its finest.

As usual, Gabe made his feelings about each situation glisteningly transparent. I liked his ‘outsider’ perspective, although him having met Dec was proving to be a slight distraction – Dec was now all he could talk about. His final take was: Dan was both inconceivably rude as well as geographically unavailable, and therefore needed to be flushed from my mind. Jesse was a schmuck with bad taste in women and had a long way to go before getting my clothes off again. Dec was perfect in every way and should be stalked with fervour. And Fiona was one twisted little sister who was not to be trusted.

When I got home there was an astonishing bunch of flowers waiting at my door. Masses of white lilies tangled with red and tangerine roses, and they were all nestled in a forest of green leaves.

My heart-rate tripled. Who were they from? Dan? Please be Dan.

I ripped open the card.

‘Too little too late and possibly too soon all at once. You deserve these and so much more. Hoping so much to see you tomorrow? Love, Jesse’

No. This couldn’t be. It was too much. But then I started to think about what it would be like if I said yes.

It suddenly dawned on me that this time tomorrow night I might be hanging out with Jesse. I felt a shiver of nerves run through me: what would we talk about? Would he bring up other girls? Would I bring up other guys? Would we even have anything to say to each other any more? I panicked. Could I
really go through with this? Surely I was above pulling these kinds of tricks just for a little sprinkle of ego dust?

Naahhh
.

I decided I could make tomorrow night The Hannah Show. Jesse’s role would be to sit there and lap up how fabulous I was, and how exciting and busy my life was, and that I didn’t need him at all. It seemed I had made my decision.

Now I just had to tell him I would be attending. Should I wait till tomorrow? Torture him a little? Yeaaah. He deserved it.

That night, as I attempted to reach the impossible goal of sleep, the fake tan I’d put on making my legs sticky and my whole body gently sweating, it wouldn’t register that I was going on a date with
Jesse
. A month ago this had seemed like the impossible.

Gabe would
kill
me if he found out.

Chapter Thirty-One

I walked out of the lift into my foyer the next evening, and I saw him standing at the glass door.
With flowers.
What was this about? I’d had flowers from Jesse once in our whole time together, for my birthday, and now two bunches in two days? Maybe he’d started working on a gardening show.

I took a deep breath, and walked out.

‘You look breathtaking, Han.’ His eyes quickly slid up and down me and rested intently on my eyes. I felt a ball rise in my throat. No, no, NO TEARS! The shock of him being at my place again, the flowers, the nerves, the expectation; the build-up had burst inside of me and was now pushing its way into every available crevice, doing its best to make me lose control. It was such a familiar, normal scene to me, seeing him
here at my door, yet tonight it was tinged with incongruity and wrongness. Weird, so weird.

I bit my trembling lip and tried to lighten things up. ‘Who gave you those?’

He laughed, and I exhaled slowly.

‘They’re for you.’ He held out the flowers. I took them, staring at the lush blooms. These were expensive.

‘You didn’t have to… Thanks, Jesse.’

‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.’

Oh, please. Was he for real? How many girls had he used that on, I wondered? Lisa Sutherland would be exactly the kind of loser who would fall for it, too. Thinking of them together sent a spear of anger down my spine, and a sick feeling into my gut. No, no, I’m not thinking that tonight – it’s all about me. He wants
me
. Not her, not them.
Me
.

‘Shall we?’ I said, raising my eyebrows, desperate for distractions and movement so the unsavoury thoughts would go.

‘I thought we could go to Sculpture for something to eat first? It’s right near the big top.’

‘Sculpture? But no one can get in there… We won’t get in, no way, not on a Friday, and not without booking three months ahead.’

‘I booked.’ He looked straight ahead as though he’d just said the most normal thing in the world.

Presumptuous
. What if I’d said no to the date? He would’ve brought in one of the imps, I guessed. Still, I was impressed.

‘Well, yeah, of course. I’d like to check it out.’

‘Excellent. I hoped you hadn’t already been taken there.’ Oooh, well played. Wasn’t someone as cool as a cucumber.

When we arrived at Sculpture, the waiter knew Jesse by his first name and gave us peach bellinis on the house. Okay, that was weird. Everything was going so smoothly that I felt like I was in some kind of American college movie. That or the
Thriller
video clip. Cue werewolves.

I inhaled my drink. It was superb, and to gulp it was sacrilege, but I needed alcohol’s sweet anaesthetising. As predicted, it took the edge off my nerves and diluted my analysing beautifully. I actually started enjoying myself. I flirted with the waiter to piss off Jesse. I made funny jokes and talked up my job incessantly. I didn’t reveal a thing about why I’d been in Hawaii, who I’d dated or what I’d been up to outside of work, which Jesse was fishing for like a bear hunting for salmon: clumsily but calculatedly.

‘So, I saw you quoted in the
Gazette
as
Gloss
’s Single Girl Expert – how does one earn such an illustrious title, Han?’ He smiled as he spoke, but his intent flashed like a neon light.

‘Oh, you know. I write all of the single-girl pieces in the mag.’

I took a sip of my wine and let him figure out his next attack.

‘You’re a regular Carrie Bradshaw, huh?’

‘Yeah, just minus the Manolos and New York crib.’

‘Would that make me Mr Big, then?’

I almost choked on my mash. The audacity! Big and Carrie were an ongoing, twisted love saga that ended triumphantly. Jesse had dumped me, was giving one date a shot, and thought
that
earned him the title of Big? Jesus – waiter, ease up on the drugs in this man’s food…

‘I’ll take that as a no?’ As though he realised his arrogance,
his voice was softer and his eyebrows were raised in semi-defiance.

I cleared my throat. ‘Hey, we should get moving, the show will be about to start.’ Remember to always end things first: conversations, phone calls, email banter, excruciating meals…

Jesse snapped to attention, asking for the bill, checking if I wanted anything else to drink or eat before I went, and sending his little waiter mate to get our coats. It was while all this was happening that I realised I was quite drunk. Which wasn’t supposed to happen.

‘Bathroom calls. Meet you at the door.’ I pushed back my chair, dropped my clutch. I leant down to get it, covering my chest where my gaping dress failed to and giggled as I came up. Jesse looked at me with sleepy eyes, one hand holding his chin, and smiled with his lips closed.

‘You’re adorable, Han.’

I blushed and walked quickly away, wondering how my arse looked in this dress. It
was
extremely clingy.

As I redid my entire face – concealer, liner, mascara, blush, gloss – and doused myself in Michael Kors, I thought of Dan and sighed. Jesse would never send a naughty text while I was in the bathroom. Jesse would do it via fax, the most risqué line would be ‘I think you’re very nice’, and it would be signed, ‘Yours sincerely’.

I stopped and stared at myself. What was I doing here? All of the excitement I had felt tonight was a soybean substitute for the enormous thrills Dan had given me. Jesse was just so…Jesse.

I walked back through the restaurant and met him at the door. He kissed me on the cheek and told me I smelled
amazing. I faked a smile and thanked him for a lovely dinner. Funny how the most expensive food can taste ordinary if the company you’re sharing it with doesn’t do it for you.

The circus was perfect as it required no conversation. I just sat there taking it all in, loving the temporary distraction from who was sitting next to me.

As we drove home, my conversation gradually slowed until I was entirely mute. I was tired from a big week, my nervous energy had transformed into lethargy, and I was still drunkish. I tried to digest what had occurred that evening, as well as forecast what I would do when he pulled up at my place. I wondered if he’d try to kiss me…

I flipped down the sunshade to check my make-up, just like I’d done a million times before. Jesse laughed. I stopped, flipped it back and stared out the side window. I wished he had a new car – there were too many memories in this one.

‘Well, here we are, Madam Atkins.’

I sat up straight and collected my bag off the floor, pushing my hair behind my ear as I did so. I was acutely aware of Jesse staring at me. ‘Thanks so much for dinner and the circus, Jesse.’

‘I miss you, Han.’ He put on the handbrake and turned off the ignition.

Oh shit. Here it comes.

I looked down at my bag and smoothed my dress over my legs nervously. Suddenly I was completely sober and very uncomfortable.

‘I had such an excellent time with you tonight, I can’t even tell you…’

I looked out of my passenger window and fiddled with my hair. It was so quiet I could hear his breath. It was slow and deep, but not calm.

‘Han, I want to see you again. Can I see you again? Can we do this again?’

I put my knuckles over my mouth and looked at him. The tears came without warning. I kept my head down so my hair fell over my face in an attempt to conceal them from him. He seemed to take this show of vulnerability as his cue.

‘Han? I know I’ve been an arsehole, and if I could turn back time I would in a flash, in an instant. I never meant to hurt you, and I know you’re fine, better than fine in fact, you’re amazing, but I can see you haven’t forgiven me, and I understand that. But I know who I am now. And I know what I want. And Han, it’s you. It’s only you. You’re all I think of. And I want to make it up to you. I want to show you how good we can be; I want to prove to you that I’ve changed and that I only want you…’

He put his hand on my leg and shifted closer to me. I didn’t move.

After a minute, I felt confident I would be able to speak without losing it. ‘Well, you know, that’s pretty heavy… I mean… God, you know, it’s just… I don’t know what to say…’ My voice cracked and I stopped speaking.

‘Say you’ll give me a chance.’

I audibly sobbed at his pleading. I was experiencing a fairytale most foul: Getting What You Wished For when the expiry date for your desire had already passed. He was saying all the things I had dreamt of. Now that he was saying them, I wasn’t sure they were what I wanted to hear after all.
What was wrong with me?

I suddenly felt claustrophobic, like I was being suffocated by his emotional outpour. I needed to get out. ‘I have to go, this is…this is all a bit too… I have to go.’

‘Han, Han, I’m sorry. I’m being unfair; I shouldn’t dump it all on you like this. I’m sorry, Han. Please don’t go, we’ll chat, sort it out, please don’t leave like this…’

His eyes screamed what his words couldn’t. He looked scared, desperate, like a lost little boy. It gave me strength.

My hand paused on the door handle. I turned to face him, front on. ‘Try, just for a minute, to think of this from my perspective. You cheat on me’ – he began to defend himself but I increased my volume to quieten him – ‘YOU DUMP ME, you date thousands of other girls, you don’t contact me for months, and then within the space of a week you move from saying you’ve been thinking of me to asking for another chance at a relationship that, to be honest, I’ve cleaned my hands of.’

He recoiled.

‘You have
no idea
what it’s been like for me. So don’t waltz in here, with your fancy flowers and your empty promises, and think you can just change everything that’s happened. Because that shit doesn’t fly with me. Not now, not ever.’

I pulled on the door handle for my Daytime Emmy award-winning exit and nothing happened. I tugged at it again; still nothing. Again and again, and then, ‘
Would you open the fucking door?
’ I screamed, facing away from Jesse.

A click from him, and suddenly the door gave, and I was out, lunging into darkness and wondering who had taken over my body, and what she had just done.

I dumped my bag on the breakfast bar, kicked off my
shoes, and then, after delicately lifting off my dress and placing it on the bed, grabbed my feral pyjama tee and yanked it on aggressively. I pulled out my bedside drawer and got my cigarettes and lighter. I stomped back to the kitchen, poured a glass of red wine I was pretty sure was off, and sat on the floor under my lounge-room window. I heard my phone beep but ignored it.

With my cigarettes, my lighter and my sobbing, I sat alone on the floor. I wondered if I’d meant what I’d said in the car.

Would Jesse accept that as the final word and drop the whole issue? I hoped so – it would make life a whole lot easier. But did I really want that? I wasn’t sure. Because, on some foul karmic strata within, I knew that maybe that shit did fly with me. Why else would I still be crying two hours later?