CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1)

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CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1) Page 12

by Delaney, Clair


  “I’m not.” He says smartly. What? Panic is rising within me – This has got to be a joke? A wind up, surely?

  I frown back at him. “Hold on a second, are you saying I’m actually getting a car?” This is not happening!

  “Yes.” He snaps staring out of the window. Why won’t he look at me?

  “Tristan!” I scold louder than I intend to.

  “I want you to have one.” He quietly says, finally looking at me.

  “I don’t want one,” I snap back. “I have nowhere to store it. I would never use it. It’s a total waste of money! Besides, I like walking to work it helps keep me fit.” I cross my arms and glare at him, but he’s staring out of the window again – Ignoring me!

  “Tristan, I swear to god....you buy me a car and I will quit, walk out today. I’m not kidding.” I warn, my voice low and threatening.

  He finally turns to me with a look of shock plastered across his face. “You’re serious?” He breathes, his eyes wide.

  “Yes,” I hiss. “If I felt the need for a company car, I would have asked Joyce ages ago, in-fact she offered me one or the pay increase. I went for the money.” He so better not get me a car!

  “Why?” he asks.

  I close my eyes for a second trying to reign in my frustrated temper. “Ok, not that it has anything to do with you, but for me a car is just another expense eating into my wages. I got the job with Joyce when I was sixteen, I saved 70% percent of my wages every month so eventually, one day, I could buy a place of my own – which I did, two years ago. I didn’t equate a car into it.”

  “But’ – “Tristan,” I hold my hand up to stop him then continue. “I have absolutely no need for a car, so please don’t get me one. Higher my wages if you want to, I can put that away as savings to get a bigger place one day.” I say, feeling totally exasperated.

  My head is banging again. I pinch my nose and close my eyes, taking several deep calming breaths. This guy sure does know how to wind me up!

  “Guess the first appointment is cancelled Stu, onto the next.” He says.

  “Yes sir.” Stu punches something into the sat-nav.

  My mouth pops open in shock, I turn to glare at Tristan. “You were about to take me to get a car?” I squeak, feeling as though I’m about to completely lose it.

  “Coral, as my future P.A, I may need you to travel, and the location could be at any of the other offices.” I feel a panic attack coming on.

  How do I tell him that I won’t leave my comfort zone - and that zone is Brighton!

  “Tristan, if you require me to accompany you, then I will use the train.” I say, hoping he is just testing me.

  “You’d rather use public transport than drive in a luxurious car?” He says incredulously.

  I turn in my seat to face him. “I’d rather not leave Brighton, full stop.” I snap.

  “Ah, I see.” He says.

  “I don’t think you do.” I mumble.

  Tristan’s face contorts. “I don’t want to upset you Coral, if you don’t want a car that’s fine.” He sighs.

  “No, I don’t.” I snap back, wondering if I am pushing him too far, and he’s about to sack my ass.

  Tristan turns towards me, he looks like he’s about to say something momentous, but he changes his mind and stares out of the window instead.

  I cross my arms in a huff and stare out the window too.

  We continue southeast on Eastern Road and as we reach the end of the road, Stuart turns left onto Arundel Road.

  “Where are we going?” I mumble.

  “First house viewing.” He quietly answers, still staring out the window.

  “How many are there?” I ask.

  “That depends.” Why is he being so cryptic?

  “On what?” I question glaring at him, but he keeps his eyes focused on the outside world. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” I question. Tristan slowly shakes his head. Oh that is so annoying! “Great.” I mumble, turning to stare out the window.

  We sit in complete silence. I feel moody and withdrawn that we are arguing. Why can't this just feel like a normal, straightforward, boss and employee relationship?

  As we reach the roundabout, Stuart takes the third exit and we cruise along Roedean Road. Then he makes a right turn and we cruise onto Cliff Approach, followed by a left turn onto The Cliff. We are high up, and ironically, the Marina is right below us, although you can't see it. I start to feel fidgety that I’m so close to my place, and that Tristan will be so close to me; that’s if he buys anything up here?

  Suddenly the big trees to my right clear...I gasp aloud and stare, transfixed by the scene unfolding before me – Wow! The views from up here are incredible. All you can see is a wonderful, panoramic view of the sea. There’s no Marina, no houses, it’s breathtaking...I bet the sunsets and sunrises are awesome...

  We continue to cruise along The Cliff, it’s a long straight road with huge houses set back away from the road, concealed by high walls, wrought iron gates, and big trees. The people that live up here are rich, really, really, rich – which makes me feel very small and insignificant.

  “I’m sorry.” Tristan whispers so only I can hear. I turn and look at him only to see he’s staring straight past me, transfixed as I was at the view.

  “Me too.” I offer. I feel myself calm a little and the atmosphere in the car lightens.

  Stuart stops outside a pair of large wrought iron gates. I notice a plaque on the wall that reads Seascape – I guess that’s the name of the house? I instantly like it, although, I can't actually see the house, because it’s surrounded by large oak trees, giving it maximum privacy.

  “Well, I guess we have a few minutes,” Tristan says. “Appointments not till half past.” He adds.

  “Oh...ok.” I look at my watch and see it’s only five past. I bite my lip wondering what we’re going to do for the next twenty minutes or so?

  “Sir.” Stuart pipes up. Tristan nods and Stuart gets out of the car, leaving the engine running so the air-conditioning stays on.

  I instantly panic. “Where’s he going?” I blurt.

  “Ciggie break.” Tristan answers.

  I relax. “Oh...” So he doesn’t mind smokers? “Do you smoke?” I ask.

  “Cigars, occasionally. You?” He asks.

  I shake my head. “I used to as a teen...” I drift off remembering trying to quit, took a while, still feel the need now and again.

  “Why did you start? Just wanted to try it?” He asks. Damn it!

  “Um...I...” I turn in my seat and look up at him, he might aswell know. “I had a lot of issues when I was...” I break off, shaking my head at myself – Who am I kidding? I still do. “When I smoked, it helped calm me down.” I add half smiling.

  “Issues?” He questions. I look up at him and nod, but I can't look away – those soft, round, milk chocolate eyes of his are pulling me in...“What kind of issues?” He asks, his head cocked to the side, his eyebrows pulled together.

  His question instantly pulls me out of it. I blink rapidly, trying to get some of my equilibrium back and stare out of the window.

  “Tristan, I’m very private, I’d rather not....’ – “Sorry that was un-called for. I guess I just want to know you’re ok.” He softly says.

  I shrug my shoulders in reply. What does he expect me to say to that? Because I am far from ok...

  “So what’s with the name Coral?” Jesus, what is this, twenty questions?

  “What’s with the name Tristan?” I ask avoiding his question.

  “You first.” He smiles.

  I shake my head at him.

  “Coral?” He’s gazing at me quizzically again.

  “What?” I snap.

  “What, you can't answer a simple question?” He snaps back. We’re arguing again? I can't take this – I’m too hung-over.

  “Fine!” I snap. “My asshole father gave me that name because he said my eyes were like the coral blue sea.” I hiss, my breathing erratic, my
heart hammering against my chest. I hate thinking about him, about the past.

  “Hey.” Tristan reaches for my hand but I’m feeling trapped, I need to get out of the car. I pull on the door handle, but it doesn’t open.

  My eyes widen in horror as I turn to Tristan. “Let me out.” I whisper trying to calm the full scale, anger/panic attack that’s trying to break through. His face pales at my reaction. Then he silently reaches forward and presses a button on the centre console. I hear a loud click and launch myself out of the car, taking in a huge lung full of air.

  I hear Tristan approach. “Jesus Coral, I...” He runs his hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry,” I say taking several deep breaths, I squint up at him. “I don’t like talking about my past.” I whimper, and lean my hands on my knees; I feel faint again.

  I feel Tristan rub his hand up and down my back trying to soothe me, but I feel even worse, the car was so cool and relaxing; out here feels so hot – and there’s still no air.

  “I think I need to get back in the car,” I tell him.

  Reaching out to me, he takes my hand and grips it tightly, then he places his other arm around my waist and gently steers me back to the car. He opens the door for me, helps me inside then quietly closes it. I lay my head back against the leather upholstery and close my eyes, I hear Tristan get back inside and shut his door.

  I instantly feel better; the cool air is helping to calm me down. “I’m really sorry,” I squeak. “No-one’s ever asked me that before, beside Gladys and well, she knows my past.” Well, some of it!

  “No, I’m sorry,” he answers huskily. “I shouldn’t have pushed, I should have seen you didn’t want to answer,” he adds.

  “You don’t know me Tristan, so how could you have seen?”

  “By being more observant,” he answers back. I open my eyes and look across at him. He’s deep in thought staring out the window again.

  “So, your name?” I ask. “Tristan and Isolde is my favourite romantic story you know,” I add, smiling softly at him.

  He raises his eyebrows in surprise and turns to me, a gentle smile playing across his lips. “Really?” He doesn’t believe me?

  “I don’t lie,” I tell him sternly. “Well, except that white lie I told to Joe, but I didn’t really have a choice,” I add.

  “No you didn’t.” His smile widens.

  “Your name sir?” I ask sweetly.

  “My mother, it was her favourite romance too, or so I was told.” He tells me.

  “Was?” I whisper and swallow hard, feeling all the colour drain out of my face.

  “Don’t look so worried,” he tells me, then leaning towards me he reaches up and softly strokes my cheek. “I never knew her, she died giving birth to me.” I gasp. How awful!

  “Tristan, I’m so sorry.” I clasp my hand in his and squeeze it tight. Tristan smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, then he leans back and stares out the window. “And your father?” I whisper.

  “He worked on the oil rigs, I never saw him.” He says. No Dad, just like me.

  “Do you see him now?” I ask hesitantly.

  “No, he died in an accident...Oh, twenty years ago now.” He says, glancing down at me. It doesn’t seem to have had any effect on him, but then I think if he didn’t know him, then how could it?

  “So who raised you?” I whisper.

  “My maternal grandparents,” he says, a sorrowful look appears across his face. I frown back at him. Why is he looking like that? Hmm, I wonder... I quickly do the maths in my head. Tristan’s gotta be in his thirties, maybe forties, so they must be in there eighties, nineties by now?

  “Do you have any siblings?” I ask.

  Tristan shakes his head. “You?”

  “I had a sister, she was a lot older than me; we had different fathers. She went raving one night, took an Ecstasy tab. I never saw her again.”

  Tristan squeezes my hand. “Sorry,” he whispers – and even though I know I should not say it, I do.

  “I’m not,” I spit. His eyebrows pull together. “She was vile to me,” I add.

  “How?” He questions.

  I close my eyes and lean my head back against the leather seat. “She hated me, used to bully me, no torture me more like. I was just a kid, I couldn’t defend myself.” I tell him, opening my eyes I glance across at him.

  Tristan is silently contemplating something. Maybe he thinks I’m an evil bitch for saying that? I sigh inwardly. Maybe I am?

  “Ok, that was harsh,” I sigh. “Of course I didn’t want her dead, I just’ – “Wanted her to leave you alone.” He interrupts, finishing my sentence for me.

  I nod in agreement. Tristan smiles weakly at me then kisses the back of my hand again. And for some reason, I feel like it’s ok to keep talking, to tell him more; which I’ve never done with anyone other than George.

  “They kept leaving me with her, she didn’t want to have to look after me all the time, which is understandable I guess, she was a teenager, she wanted to be with girls her own age. And I didn’t want her with me either, if she wasn’t going to be nice to me.” Tristan nods in agreement, still deep in thought.

  But it’s no good I really want to know about his parenting, so I decide to ask him anyway.

  “Your Grandparents?” I ask keeping my eyes to the floor. “They must be what...in their eighties, nineties by now?” I ask.

  Tristan’s cheeks flush red, his eyes darkening as they do. He glances across at me then stares back out off the window, seemingly embarrassed. Then he closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath then turns to stare down at me; analysing whether he should tell me.

  “I buried them both, last year,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. Shit! Me and my big mouth!

  I squeeze my eyes shut, then squeeze his hand tightly.

  “Tristan...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean’ – “No harm, no foul,” he interrupts. Jesus! I'm shocked. I didn’t expect him to say that at all. I can feel his pain emanating from him; he must miss them so much. I open my eyes and look up at him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper again, frowning deeply. Then I think if he has no siblings, who does he have – Aunties and Uncles, surely?

  “Don’t be,” he tells me. Then he leans forward and with his thumb, he strokes between my eyebrows, causing my frown to melt away. “They were the best parents I could have ever wished for, I feel blessed to have been raised by them,” he tells me. I feel better for hearing that, less guilty for blurting out about their age. I smile back at him.

  “Guess that explains the ingrained good manners,” I whisper.

  Tristan leans back in his seat and stares out the window. “Yes, I suppose they were from a different era....” He turns and smiles at me, then drifts off again. “They would have loved you,” he says after a moment.

  I gaze back at him in wonder. I don't know why he’s telling me this, and I don’t see how he’s come to the conclusion that they would have loved me. I am not lovable, no, I’m far from it. But I feel like I should say something?

  “I’m sure I would have liked them too,” I say.

  “What about you Coral. Any Grandparents?” he asks.

  “No, I only knew my granny on my mother’s side. I only met her once and when I did, I understood why my mom wouldn’t have her in our lives, she was...well horrid. She took me in for a couple of weeks before I went to live with Gladys.” I cringe at the memory.

  Tristan is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry…do you see her now?” he asks softly.

  “No, she could walk by me on the street and I wouldn’t know who she was.” I answer blankly.

  We are both quiet and contemplative for a few minutes, the silence is comfortable.

  “I sometimes feel like I was born in the wrong era.” I muse out-loud.

  “Yeah...” I nod and lock eyes with him.

  “I think I would have liked the forties, you know, the way people were. Guys taking girls out dancing, the girls wearing pre
tty dresses. I think people had better manners and were more...” I cut myself off.

  “Go on,” Tristan urges smiling down at me.

  “Well, it just seems like, I don’t know…like there wasn’t any of the crap that we all have to deal with nowadays.” I say.

  “Like what?” he asks.

  I sigh heavily. Do I really want to say it? I shrug and start blurting it all out. “Like it was, couples got to know one another first, you know? There was no pressure to have sex straight away, or be a goddess in the bedroom, nowadays you’re made to feel weird if you’re not out every night having one night stands. Men were gentleman and women were ladies. They conducted themselves in a much better manner. I guess what I’m trying to say is that they fell for one another because’ – “They fell in love without the sex.” Tristan says finishing my sentence for me.

  I nod shyly knowing sex has been mentioned.

  “That’s how it was with my grandparents.” He smiles widely, his dimples deepening. “My grandma always said to me ‘if she falls into bed with you, she isn’t worth keeping’.”

  “Sounds like my kind of woman.” I softly say.

  Tristan smiles sweetly at me, then stares out of the window again and we sit in comfortable silence, both deep in thought, my hand still in his. Acker Bilks, Stranger on the Shore starts playing on the radio. I feel myself tense up, yet I love its relaxing melody. It’s a bitter-sweet sensation. I see Tristan notice out of the corner of his eye.

  “Coral, what’s wrong?” He asks huskily. I turn to him and shake my head. “Tell me,” he urges. I sigh inwardly then I think... what the hell – After what we’ve just shared...

  “This piece of music,” I say shaking my head, trying not to remember the nightmares.

  “Do you want it turned off?” He immediately asks, reading my expression.

  “No, no it’s ok,” I tell him. “I’ve always loved it, ever since Gladys introduced it to me. She used to play it to me to help me sleep. Just takes me back, that’s all.” I smile remembering how thoughtful and careful she was with me back then.

  “She sounds pretty awesome.” I turn to Tristan and smile widely at him, knowing I love that woman more than I’ve ever loved anyone, ever.

 

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