Good Girl Gone Wild: When Lust Turns to Passion... (Good and Wild) (11 page)

Nick
watched her, out of sight, from the entrance of the restaurant. The only time
he really saw her lose control was when they were making love, and what he saw
now was a completely collected woman finishing her coffee as if nothing had
happened.
Great going, Nick
he chastised himself bitterly, knowing he
had just burnt all his boats.
All these boating metaphors is killing me
he thought with grim humor, and he walked slowly away.

Christine
went home, her head empty of thought save for one: He’s gone. She knew he
wouldn’t be back this time. He was a great lover, a fun friend, but he had a
quiet pride that could be implacable, even with her.  There were some things
that his dignity would not allow. He had laid his heart at her feet and she had
rejected it; it was a deal breaker.

Lisa
had found her own boyfriend, an IT programmer with a penchant for argyle socks,
and more often than not she was out for the weekend. Christine came home to an
empty apartment, and she felt safe enough to finally allow her emotions to take
over.

She
cried quietly for what seemed like hours. No wailing or screaming for her; even
in despair she kept it to herself. At the end of it, she simply fell asleep
from exhaustion, her cheeks still wet. She dreamed of Nick; he kept turning
away from her, and finally she had collapsed, crying. She woke up, and her
tears were flowing. She had thought she had cried herself out. Apparently, she
had squeezed some from her dream-self.

It
was dark when she finally emerged from her bedroom, and she made herself a cup
of coffee, letting it get cold as she watched old movies with unseeing eyes.

Her
six months with Nick had been one of relative non-commitment. They had agreed
that they were free to see other people, and that neither would ask about the
other’s other “friends.” Christine had dated occasionally to make a point, but
none had gone beyond the first date (with no sex) because she didn’t want to.
She felt she had everything she ever wanted in a relationship with Nick. She
had never asked about Nick’s activities, but presumed he still dated. Despite
herself, she had felt jealousy at the thought of other women in Nick’s arms,
but chastised herself for being a hypocrite.

Staring
at the moving screen, her thoughts chased themselves fruitlessly around her
head.

I
made the right decision; if I let him dictate to me now, it would be that much
easier to give in the next time
.
the stubborn voice in her head insisted.

But
he wasn’t really dictating to me, was he?
A small-girl
voice
asked dubiously. He had
told her he loved her and wanted to be with her. Was that so bad?

He
said he would wait for me to tell him when I’m ready
her stubborn self argued back,
and I’m
not.

Really?
You’re going with that?
 A
third, unfamiliar voice chimed in drily.
Girl, you’ve been ready for a long
time, and you know it.

It
was going so well!
the small
girl voice wailed, dwelling fondly on happy memories.

For
you, maybe. Little Miss Independence
,
the dry voice rebutted.
Well, you’ve done it this time, toots. Enjoy your
independence because that’s all you’ve got left.

Bleak
thoughts.

Christine
pressed her hands to her eyes, wanting the thoughts to stop, wanting to be over
this. She would get over it. It wasn’t the end of the world. Just the end of
the world with Nick.

Her
hands dropped, and she stared off into space as she realized she actually had
no choice in the matter. Once, maybe, six months ago, she could have walked
away.

“Nick,”
she breathed, heart beating fast. She had to get him back. She finally admitted
to herself that life without him was no longer possible, and for a fleeting
moment she wished she had never met him. If she hadn’t, she would probably be
playing her favorite online game right now without a care in the world, instead
of this enormous weight on her heart threatening to crush it. But no; she did
not really regret being with Nick. Her life had assumed much deeper meaning
with Nick in it, and she found herself willing to do anything to keep him in
her life.

Moving
quickly before she lost her nerve, she washed her face, registering that her
eyes were still puffy, changed into a short skirt and blouse, rummaging in her drawer
for the keycard to his condo. Nick had given it to her despite her protests,
claiming she could water his plants when he was out of town. As it chanced,
anytime he went out of town he came back the same day, or he brought her with
him, so the plants survived without her ministrations.

She
gave a small cry as she happened on the card. Clutching it in her hand, she
grabbed her purse and headed out the door. She lucked on a cab just as she
stepped out of the building and she was whisked away before she could catch her
breath.

She
had been to his condo several times, and the night doorman knew her by sight.
He tipped his hat to her and opened the front door, replying to her greeting in
kind. The elevator, keyed with the special card, whisked her to the penthouse.

The
elevator doors opened noiselessly, and Christine stepped out cautiously. The
entrance was a long corridor, with doors to the dining room on the left, kitchen
on the right. Both were empty. At the far end it led to the living room and
beyond that the bedrooms. Just short of the end of the hallway, Christine heard
voices. She recognized Nick’s, but not the other one. They were talking in low
tones, but she heard enough to know that the other voice belonged to a woman.

Christine
drew back instantly, not breathing. He was with another woman already. She
squeezed her eyes tight, a hand to her mouth to keep a sob back. After a
moment, she started to walk back to the elevator, heart thudding heavily. She
couldn’t get caught here; she would die of mortification. She had almost
reached the elevator when it started to open, and she froze.

A
tallish man in his mid-fifties stepped out, and stopped short at the sight of
her playing statues. Then he smiled, and she was instantly reminded of Nick.
This
must be his father
, she thought, searching wildly for an explanation as to
why a strange woman was skulking in the shadows of his son’s condo.

“You
must be Christine,” he said, holding out his hand. Christine took it
automatically. He pumped it twice, then took her arm, steering her towards the
living room. “I’m Daniel St. Claire, Nick’s father. I’m glad you were able to
make it after all.”

Christine
murmured agreement although she didn’t know what he was talking about, and
before she could think of what to do, they were in the living room, and she was
being introduced to Nick’s mother, Monica.

She
was a woman who must’ve been at least in her late forties, but she looked much
younger. She had red hair and green eyes that reminded Christine of Kate, and
she had the same good-humored twinkle. She was shaking Christine’s hand, and
Christine was conscious of Nick’s burning eyes as she murmured “how do you do”.

“Nicky
here was telling me that you weren’t going to be able to make it on time, but
I’m glad you did,” she said, leading her to the sofa.  “I’ve been dying to meet
you, Nick talks about you often.”

Christine
sneaked a look at Nick, who had composed his expression to a neutral one.
“Really? He talks about you all the time, too.”

Monica
St. Claire gave her son a playful look. “Did he tell you that I’ve been
badgering him to bring you over to the house?”

Christine
shook her head, blushing faintly. She had a no-parents policy, and it suddenly
occurred to her that she had been the one dictating to him throughout their
relationship, She felt deeply ashamed, and wondered wildly when she had become
such a control freak..

“Well,
I have, and it’s a shame we have to meet under such circumstances,” Monica
continued, and as Christine threw her a stricken look, she looked suddenly
thoughtful. “Nick didn’t tell you? We’re on our way to the airport for an
extended tour of Europe, and we just had time to say hello.”

“Oh,
he didn’t mention it,” Christine said.

Daniel
St. Claire glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which. If we don’t get a move on,
darling, we’re going to miss our flight.”

Monica
rose, and Christine stood up as well. Monica gave her a kiss on the cheek,
patting it lightly. “Well, we’ll see each other when we get back,” she said
reassuringly, “and we’ll have a long chat then, okay? Nick, bring her over for
Christmas,” she commanded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before bustling
away. Daniel merely shook her hand, but smiled warmly as he said goodbye. Nick
stood up to escort his parents to the door.

Christine
sank down on the sofa, her knees suddenly weak. Too many things were happening
too fast, and her head was in a whirl. Nick came back into the room and
regarded her from afar, his face unreadable. She didn’t look at him; she didn’t
know how. She also had no idea what she was going to say.

“What
are you doing here, Christine?” he asked, his voice harsh.

Her
lips began to tremble, and she bit them to stop it. She had never heard him use
that tone with her before. He was angry and she couldn’t blame him. She had to
get out of here before she made a total fool of herself by crying.

Nick
had his own difficulties. He had spent a hellish afternoon considering his
bleak future, walking for hours.  He had finally gone home, knowing his parents
would be there soon, and not knowing how to tell them they wouldn’t be meeting
their future daughter-in-law after all.

He
had decided two months in their relationship that he wanted to marry Christine,
not just live with her. The sex was as good as ever; better even as they came
to know each other better. He loved her slow smile, her placid disposition
(when they weren’t making love), and her easy acceptance of all life had to
offer. He wanted children with her, and that would gladden his parents’ hearts
as well. In the end, he lost his courage and made up some excuse for her
absence.

And
now she was here, and he didn’t know what to make of it. Did she think she
could convince him to forget about his ultimatum and just continue as they
were? The hell he will! Better to cut his losses now while he had some chance
of getting some of his life back.

And
now she was here, and his longing for her seemed to triple because he still
believed he could never have her. Not the way he wanted.

He
was therefore in a towering rage, and he could barely contain the blistering
words he wanted to say to her, to lash out for the hurt she had caused him.

“You’re
angry…” she faltered out, her voice husky.

“Of
course I’m angry,” he shouted, frustration giving strength to his voice, as he
walked further into the room. “You say you don’t want me, and then you turn up
here without calling, using my damned key card to get in, and then you sit
there as if everything is just peachy! You had no right to come here!”

Christine
stood up, holding herself rigidly, willing her tears to
go away!
She
didn’t dare look at him, and tried to keep her voice even. “You’re right, I’m
sorry. It was a mistake. I’ll go.” Her voice wobbled a little at the end and
she was poised for flight. His next words gave her pause.

“Why
did you come here?” he asked more moderately, curious despite himself. She had
never gone to his condo on her own or uninvited, and doing so now was
incomprehensible. Unless…but no, he wouldn’t allow himself to hope just yet. He
watched her closely.

Christine
didn’t know what to say. She had been planning to tell him that she had changed
her mind, and that she was willing to try to have a life together, but now she
doubted that it would do any good. He didn’t want her anymore. He was so angry!

She
was suddenly aware of the key card she still held tightly in her left hand. She
placed it on the coffee table. “I just wanted to give this back to you,”
Christine said quietly, and she found the courage to look up at him. “I should
have called first. I’m sorry.”

Nick
believed her; you could see it in the way his face hardened. Christine didn’t
know if she should be glad or not. He nodded curtly, and made no move to stop
her when she walked past him.
I’m going, I’m really, really going, and I’m
never coming back,
she thought distractedly, her face working .She was
almost in the hallway when he suddenly spoke.

“Did
you ever love me at all?” he asked tightly, as if the words were wrenched from
him.

Christine
grabbed at the wall for support, her heart constricting at the hurt she heard
in his voice. Her tears began to fall, but she didn’t mind anymore. She turned
to face him, and saw that he was crying as well. His face was still hard, his
body rigid, as if he was holding on grimly to his self-control but a tear was
nonetheless trickling down his cheek.

Christine
couldn’t stand it. She had never seen him cry, and she was furious at herself
for causing him pain. She came to him, her purse falling unheeded to the floor.
She reached up and lovingly brushed the hair from his forehead.