by Roya Carmen
We all break into laughter, and bring up our mugs and clink, and I wonder, for the umpteenth time, what I would do without these girls.
“Hey, little buddy,” Weston sits down next to Ethan. “What are you working on?”
Ethan smiles up at him. “Blocks.”
Ethan reaches for a nacho on the coffee table. Once he’s eaten it, he resumes his play.
Weston hands him a red block. “You like building?”
Ethan’s tower is making good progress. I watch them intently. The sight of them together is so sweet.
“I build buildings,” Weston tells him. “Really big ones.”
Ethan’s eyes widen, and a second later, he’s back to his project.
“Well, I’m finally ready,” I announce. “What’s the verdict?”
They both turn to me. “Dress,” Ethan cheers.
Weston’s mouth hangs and he’s speechless.
“Well?”
He smiles. “The verdict is great,” he says. “You look stunning, Gretchen.”
I like when he says my name. Sure, my monikers are fun and cute, but nothing arouses me more than hearing my name on his lips.
I stare down at the long skirt of my chiffon dress, and my expensive Chanel heels. “Claudia should be here any minute,” I tell him as I reach for my phone. I fish it out of my new bag. I still can’t believe I own a Chanel bag.
Just as I’m about to call her, the doorbell buzzes. I hurry to go greet her, and when I swing the door open, her jaw drops to the floor.
“Oh my God… you look a-mazing!”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“That dress!”
I pull on my black cardigan. “I know, right?”
“Hello, again,” Weston says as he offers her his hand.
“Hello,” she sings. She gives him an unapologetic once-over. “Damn.”
Weston smiles politely.
“Don’t mind Claudia,” I say and turn to her. “I’ve written down all the instructions you need. They’re on the kitchen counter.”
She nods. “You two have a great time, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Well, that leaves a lot of options then,” I joke.
“Exactly.”
I’m still smiling as Weston and I walk to the elevator. As soon as we slip in, he wraps his arm around my waist and kisses my cheek. “I’m so excited.”
“Me too.”
I’m surprised when he leads me to the front of the lobby and not the back exit, where the carpark is. As we exit the building, my breath hitches as I spot his town car. A chauffeur holds a door open for me and I slip in, finding it all a little surreal. I knew he got around in a town car because I’ve seen him before, but I’m still surprised.
Weston offers me a drink as soon as we’re settled in the sleek tan leather seats. “No, I’m good,” I say. I’m already nervous, and I don’t want to have to go pee ten times.
“You like Italian, right?” he asks. “I think you’ve mentioned it once.”
“I love it.”
“You look very lovely in your dress.”
“Thank you. You have very good taste, Sir.”
He smiles playfully. I can tell that he loves it when I call him Sir. That’s why I keep doing it.
My gaze darts over him. He looks dashing in a charcoal suit, blue tie, striped shirt and expensive looking coat. “You look very handsome too. Very distinguished.”
He fiddles with the silver buttons on the sleeves of his coat, not quite looking at me. The dichotomies of his personality baffle me. One second, he’s powerful, confident and completely in his element. And the next, he’s a shy little boy.
“I can’t wait,” I say. “I’m so hungry.”
“You’ll love this place.”
34
Edward opens the door for me again. Edward is Boss Man’s driver, and he seems nice. I smile up at him and thank him. Weston leads me to the restaurant, a brown brick Victorian house topped with green gables. It sits tall on the corner, more stunning than all its neighbors.
The atmosphere is both classy and quaint; wrought iron light fixtures, crisp white linens, rustic brick walls dotted with old photographs of Rome. Or is it Florence? I’m not sure since I’ve never been.
The hostess leads us to our table, and Weston pulls a chair for me, ever the gentleman. Donovan used to do that too. I take in the place and the crowd. “I feel a little overdressed.”
“No, you’re fine,” he assures me. “You look fantastic.”
I lean in closer. “People are staring,” I whisper.
“They’re staring because you’re the most beautiful woman in the place.”
I smile, and the server inches closer. “Hello, I’m Samantha. How are you two tonight?”
“Fabulous,” I tell her.
“I love your dress,” she says. “And your hair too.”
I reach for my up-do, a little unsettled by the unexpected compliments. “Thank you.”
She hands us the menus. “Take your time. I’ll go fetch water to start you off.”
I’m intimidated when I flip open the menu. “It’s all in Italian!”
Weston laughs. “Look closer.”
I take a closer look, and notice the descriptions are also written in English in a smaller font. Thank goodness. My stomach stands to attention as I peruse the choices. “How’s the veal parm here?”
“It’s fantastic. I highly recommend.”
“Well, that’s what I’m having then.”
He smiles. “You’re easy.”
“Don’t you know it,” I joke.
“Well, you weren’t that easy,” he points out. “It took me almost a month to…” his words trail off. I know exactly what he’s alluding to. It took him weeks to finally get his Twinkie stinky.
I smile wide at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, curious.
“Oh… it’s nothing. Just something Rosetta said. You know how she gets.”
“What did she say?”
I blush. “Oh… I can’t tell you.”
“You are being quite incorrigible, Grasshopper,” he says in his commanding boss voice. “You must tell me.”
“Okay…” I finally concede. “She said you got your Twinkie stinky.”
His brows furrow. “What?”
“You know… when you… Get it?”
He cracks up, and the patrons sitting three tables away turn in our direction.
“So she knows about us?”
“Of course she does. She’s no dummy,” I point out. “I swear I didn’t tell her a thing.”
He smiles. “I believe you.” He dips his head again. “I think I’ll have the seafood pasta. What would you like as an appetizer?”
“I love calamari,” I say. “But anything—”
“Calamari, it is then.”
“Great.”
“How about wine? Do you like Shiraz?”
“Love it actually.”
“Wow, you really are easy.”
We both enjoy the appetizer and the conversation. It’s mostly about work and Rosetta’s antics. We also chat about our kids.
“I love Ethan,” he says. “He’s such a sweet boy.”
“Thank you. I’m proud of him.”
“You’ve done a wonderful job with him,” he goes on. “And I’m not just saying that. I’m not one to offer insincere compliments. He’s so kind and smart. I was watching him eat his snack when I picked you up, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was dipping his nacho into the guacamole. Didn’t spill a drop. I’ve never seen a two-year old do that before.”
I laugh. “Yes, he loves guacamole. It’s good for him.”
“I would love for the three of us to do something fun together,” he says. “Like the zoo or the aquarium.”
“He would love that!”
He smiles. “I would love that too. I’ll look into it, and let you know.”
“Thank you.”
He rakes a
hand through his hair, a sexy habit of his. “He’s beautiful, but he looks nothing like you.”
True. “Yes, he’s all Donovan.”
He reaches for his wine. “Is that difficult for you? Seeing Donovan in him every day?”
“On the contrary,” I say. “It’s a blessing. I get to keep a small bit of Donovan. I get to see him every day in Ethan’s eyes, in his smile.”
Weston is teary-eyed. He shakes his head. “That’s beautifully put, Gretchen.”
“Here are your entrées,” the server announces. “Looks delicious, doesn’t it?”
Weston clears his area, and she presents him with his seafood pasta. “Careful… it’s very hot.”
Next, she sets down my plate, and my mouth actually salivates. The veal is beautifully displayed, but it won’t be there long. I’m famished.
“You need anything else?” she asks.
“Uh… no. I think we’re fine,” Weston offers.
“Yes, thank you,” I agree.
“Enjoy!” she says, and quickly disappears.
We both dig in as soon as she’s gone and eat in silence. It’s delicious.
The conversation resumes when we’ve both satisfied our stomachs a bit. My veal is half eaten, and I definitely plan to finish it.
“So how do you like Wicker Park?” I ask.
He smiles. “At first, I hated it. Too hip for me.”
“I love it. It’s so vibrant.”
“Well, it’s grown on me. I only moved here because of the kids. When Bridget settled here with her boyfriend, I had no choice but to follow. I wanted to be close to Ashton and Elizabeth.”
“Makes sense. It must be hard to see them only every other week.”
“It’s okay,” he admits. “Easier than I anticipated. I’m ashamed to admit it but I’ve always been a workaholic. Even when we all lived together on a full-time basis, I sometimes wouldn’t see them for days. I was a bad dad.”
I dig my fork in my salad. “I’m sure you weren’t.”
“How about you? What brought you to Wicker Park?”
“Well, Donovan got a position at Saint Elizabeth Hospital, and he loved the area, so I happily followed.”
He nods quietly, and a long uncomfortable silence follows.
“What happened?” he finally says. “With Donovan? He died in a car crash, right?”
My heart dips into my stomach. I don’t like to talk about this. Yet… he’s clearly curious. I’ve been complaining about the two of us not being close enough, just being fuck buddies, and here he is, asking me to crack myself open for him like he has for me. He’s shared so many secrets with me already, and I’ve been a locked vault.
“We were in Mexico, in Cancun,” I start. “It was our baby moon, you know, last chance to vacation before the baby comes. I was six months pregnant.”
He’s abandoned his meal. He’s listening intently.
“We rented an old jeep. We were heading to a cenote for a day excursion. And when I say the jeep was old, I’m not exaggerating. It was practically falling apart.”
“Yes, I’ve been there. I know what you mean.”
“Anyway, the driver seat belt was broken. Donovan put up a real fuss. He wanted another jeep. The guy offered him another, but the passenger belt was missing. He told the guy that he was leaving.”
I reach for my glass of water. My throat is suddenly very dry. I’m all choked up. I take a sip and continue. “I didn’t want to make a fuss too. I’m pretty easy-going, and I just wanted to go to the cenote and have fun. I told Donovan he was being a real stick-in-the-mud, and that if he drove safely, we’d both be fine. He finally relented.”
Weston’s face falls. He knows exactly where I’m going with this story.
“Long story short… some guy was driving like an idiot and swerved into our lane. He was coming straight at us, and Donovan veered off the road. He lost control, and we went flying down a steep hill.”
He takes my hand. “I’m so sorry, Gretchen.”
I stare down at my plate, because this part is the hardest to say out loud. “I was badly bruised up, but miraculously… I was fine. And… so was Ethan. But… Donovan flew right out the window. I was told he most likely died instantly.”
He squeezes my hand.
“It was all my fault. I killed him.”
Weston shakes his head, and squeezes my hand harder, so hard it hurts. “It wasn’t your fault, Gretchen. I don’t want you to think that way. It was just one of those unthinkable things that happen in life. I blamed myself for years for Jonathan’s death. If only I’d been around more. If only I’d paid more attention. It’s taken me years of therapy to realize that it wasn't my fault.”
I look up at him, thinking about his precious little boy, only six months old, a bigger tragedy than Donovan’s passing. “I’m so sorry, Weston.”
We’re both in tears when the server reappears. Realizing she’s just inadvertently stepped into a private moment, she quickly backtracks. “Uh… I’ll come back later. I’ll bring you the dessert menu shortly.”
Weston and I smile at each other. “Look at us,” he says, “a bunch of sad saps.”
“You know what I need to cheer me up?”
He smiles mischievously. “A little bum slapping?” His gaze darts across the room. “I don’t think I can oblige right now, not unless you want to sneak into the washroom with me.”
I laugh out loud. “No… you dirty boy. I need dessert.”
“Well, that, we can definitely manage.”
35
I’m overwhelmed by the beauty of this place. I feel like a princess in another era. Everyone is dressed to the nines, and I no longer feel conspicuous in my Chanel gown. I’m frozen, my gaze skyward. The interior architecture is exquisite, beautiful light fixtures dot the gold coffered gilded ceiling. Marble floors and stunning giant pillars complete the picture. “Amazing, isn’t it?” Weston says.
“Sure is.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never been here.”
I smile. “I’ve led a very dull life apparently.”
He takes my hand as we head to our seats, a few rows back from the stage. The red velour seat is super soft, and I feel very special, very sophisticated in my dress.
“You look beautiful,” he tells me again.
I blush. “Thank you. You clean up good yourself, Mr. Hanson.”
He leans in closer. “You know… I twitch every time you call me that,” he whispers. “Mr. Hanson.”
I laugh. “I knew you liked it.”
He takes my hand again, and wraps it in both of his. I study his hands. They’re beautiful and soft. His finger are long, and his nails are well kept. My nails look nice too, painted a soft pink. I can’t see the wedding ring I still wear on my finger. It’s hidden in Weston’s hands.
The curtains finally open, and the show starts. The Color Purple, based on the novel by Alice Walker. I remember reading it in school and loving it. I was really affected by it, and knew I would never forget it. I also really enjoyed the movie adaptation.
I’m completely mesmerized. The singing fills me with chills, and I can’t peel my eyes away, not even for a second. Weston never lets go of my hand. Not until intermission.
“I just love watching you,” he says. “You’re precious.”
I blush. “What can I say? I love this kind of thing.”
He smiles. “I tried to shoot you a sexy grin here and there, but your eyes were glued to the stage the whole time.”
“I really have to pee now.”
He laughs. “Well, we better hurry then, before the line gets too long.”
He grabs my hand and leads me out of the theatre, and all I can think is, I could get used to this.
“Good evening, Miss Gretchen,” Edward says as I step out of the town car.
I smile up at him. “You too, Edward.”
Weston joins me and takes my hand. I lift the skirt of my long dress as we walk to Orchard Heights. A different security guard o
pens the door for us, and we make our way in. My heels click-clack against the tiled floor in the lobby. Weston presses the elevator button.
“So the security guards… are they permanent?”
He smiles. “I like to think of them as doormen. And yes, they are.”
“Oh…” I can’t quite believe it. All because of me.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures me. “Condo fees won’t increase.”
I smile. “Did you do this because of what happened with Samuel?”
The elevator doors ping open. “Yes, initially. I care about your safety and the safety of everyone in my buildings. It made me realize that security was quite lax here.” He presses the P button.
I press the 2 button. He smiles at me and shakes his head. “You’re not going home quite yet. You’re coming with me.”
“Uh… but Claudia will be expecting me.”
“Can you call her and ask her to stay the night?” he asks. “It’s a lot to ask, but it’s late already. Perhaps she won’t mind.”
I really, really love the idea of spending the night with Weston. “Sure… I’ll call.”
I fish my phone out of my Chanel bag, and by the time we reach the penthouse, I’m talking to Claudia. She’s more than happy to oblige.
“Thank you so much, Claudia. I owe you one.”
Weston smiles. “That’s a great friend you have there.”
“I know.”
He closes and locks the front door. He grabs me by the waist and draws me to him. He dips his head and kisses me softly. “Thank you for the best evening I’ve had in a long time.”
“Ditto, Boss.”
He laughs. “I’m not your boss right now, Gretchen.”
“What are you?”
He smiles. “Uh… your lover? Your boyfriend?”
“Can you still call me Grasshopper?”
He laughs. “You like that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He reaches for my shoulder and peels off my cardigan. It falls to the floor, along with my bag. He kisses my shoulder softly, and I melt. I reach for his face, desperately wanting to kiss him. His lips are delicious, and his kiss is slow but still intense. I could kiss him for hours.