A Wedding Affair (The Wedding Affair)

by Lacey, S. L. A.

  I hand him my keys, he opens the passenger door for me and I get in and sink into the leather seat, my heart is racing and the butterflies in my stomach are dancing the merengue, I am my own worst enemy as I know not what I do. I will have to face the consequences of my actions this evening at some point and a thought crosses my mind better off later when I am sober.

  The cool night air has cleared my foggy disposition, and I look at Tristan, how far have we really come? It’s been two year since we have seen one another and I am dead drunk and he is still driving my car!

  My subconscious is even shaking her head at me, do I realize that not only have I drank because of him tonight, then drank with him tonight now the handsome son of a bitch is driving me home! Can I be any more naïve? See why I needed Ian to be here! I can’t be trusted I have promised myself to one mans and I am drinking with another! This is cheating in its highest form, I am sure that my heart doesn’t care and my head has no say so in the matter.

  Tristan slides in the driver’s side and has to adjust the seat as usual, because my legs are short.

  “How the hell do you drive like this?” as he moves the seat way back so he can get comfortable.

  “Well I gotta reach the pedals don’t I?” he pushes the start button as my Cadillac comes to life, the pop-up navigation comes on with a wave of the hand and he hits the home button. Clever bastard isn’t he as he maneuvers through the controls of my Cadillac with little effort ease and perfection.

  Traffic is heavy as usual on a Friday night in downtown Cleveland he makes a U-turn and follows into traffic, I glance over at him, his profile that I use to caress, his hands that use to hold mine. Memories of Tristan all laced with emotion heated by desire and that is why I buried them just too painful.

  Tristan drives with little or no effort, he navigates through the city, swiftly and in control, the streets are alive and busy with people, the midnight blue sky is seductive and beckons you, the Indians game has just let out, the casino is going strong, and there are people everywhere. He points towards the stadium as the brilliant fireworks light up the night sky.

  “We must have won tonight look at the fireworks” I open the roof and glance over at Progressive Field and we admire the display of red white and blue, they say nights like this do crazy things to people, you got that right hell looks what it’s done to me!

  I take stock that Tristan is still a good driver, he never speeds and he handles my car with precision and confidence. He reaches for the button on the steering wheel he turns on the music and hits some other button and the sound resonates clear and crisp. I am dazed and buzzed as I look out my window at the people enjoying a summer night in Cleveland.

  The lyrics echo in my mind wow do they fit perfect, boy am I CRUISING FOR A BRUISING sing it Basia!

  Tristan whisks us away over the bridge, downtown behind us as we head towards the residential area of the urban sprawl that we call Ohio City, a quaint little area that is home to The West Side Market, countless beer gardens and of course my family Church, and our family home that I recently moved back into about two years ago.

  The area I live in, is one of the oldest neighborhoods here in Cleveland, the district is filled with eclectic shops, café and boutiques, wonderful up and coming restaurants great old churches, a library that we all did our homework at as kids quant old Victorian houses and streets that look like so picturesque.

  This area is near and dear to my heart because all of us kids grew up here. We played here, we made our communion and confirmation here, my parents were married here, and we went to school here, it holds a lot of fond memories that are easy to remember.

  I moved back into to our family home, about two years ago, I wanted to be close to the store and I just missed the area, I use to live in a condo near my old job that I had with you know who sitting next to me, but I like living in a house rather than a condo and I was fleeing Tristan and this seemed the best way to ward him off for the past two years and gosh it was working until Ian decided to try a new restaurant.

  Wow a thought crosses my mind, is all this meant to happen and do I have Ian to blame for this? Apprehensive, worrisome as I know this is not going to sit well with anyone when I tell them what I have been doing and with whom. I put my thoughts aside for the moment.

  We sit in the comfort of technology, my navigation girl giving directions to my house, maybe he won’t remember where my house is!

  Wishful thinking on my part, Tristan knowing where I live is not good and I am distracted as the music fills the air so we don’t have to speak, I am grateful for that, we talked too much tonight, and what I have found out is frankly none of my business, it has nothing to do with me I guess that is my solace. I don’t know as my thoughts are scattered and now interrupted as I am brought back from my daydreaming by,

  YOUR DESTIATION IS ON YOUR LEFT!

  Tristan pulls into the driveway and parks by the front door. I get out digging in my purse for my keys, Tristan gets out of the car twirling my keys.

  “Looking for something?” he walks over to me at a glacial pace, I look up at him, that killer sexy smile of his makes me smile. shut the damn thing off will ya! I grab the keys from him open the door and turned off the alarm, I leave my purse and keys on the entry hall table, I look back at him with hands in his pocket rocking on his Gucci loafers.

  “Tristan come in please” he follows me in and just looks around I start turning on lights and he looks amazed, as he enters my home and looks around at my oasis.

  My home it’s a huge old Victorian, with fifteen foot ceilings, arched doorways, a cherry and white winding staircase that takes you up to the second floor where all four bedrooms are and of course my killer closet, more on that later.

  The parlor with the original working fireplace, houses the television, the room is filled with big comfy chairs, a huge sofa that you just want to sink into and of course my collection of books and fashion magazines that flank the walls, built in book cases that are behind the bar, the floor to ceiling windows are all dressed in champagne and gold. The huge mirror that enriches the fireplace is over one hundred years old, the mantel is adorned with family photos and to the right of course my father’s bass which is still in the corner as he left it.

  My formal dining room is palatial; it’s long and narrow with a huge Persian rug that anchors an oval cherry table which seats eight to twenty. All the floors are original, I had them stripped and restored to their grandeur right down the gold inlay that frames a boarder around the room. The walls are all cream and champagne, the huge floor to ceiling bay-window is where the grand piano lives. And on the wall as you first come in is my MONA LISA that I bought when I was in college on my first trip to Paris on a school field trip.

  The state of the art kitchen I did in a French theme, the floor looks like cobblestones, its coral, cream and slate title reminded me of the cobblestone in France. The huge mural over the bistro table is of a corner café in Paris, the window seat has pillows and drapes that invite you to sit and read while you enjoy a croissant.

  I love to cook and entertain a lot so I wanted a kitchen you feel comfortable in that is cozy inviting and warm. The cherry French cabinets adorn the walls and the pantry houses the refrigerator and all my kitchen gadgets and small appliances.

  “Do you live here all alone?” Tristan asks as he enters behind me.

  “Just me and Mona!” he looks at me puzzled as I point to the gold framed image of the Mona Lisa as she greets everyone as they enter the dining room.

  Tristan glances over to the picture and then looks back at me with his playful grin.

  “So your roommate is framed, and you’re fit to be tied?” yes he is funny I will give him that, his humor also knows no bounds he has always been the closer, with charm and sexy banter as his key weapon, I was forever under his spell.

  This time not so much an effect as just a shock, I look at him and shake my head always quick with the wit this arrogant son of a bitch will be as challe
nging as ever as I take a deep breath.

  I turn on some lamps and walk into the parlor over to the bar and grab the bottle of grey goose, Tristan just watches me move about. I answer his unasked question.

  “Why stop now, at least I’m home right? You want a drink?”

  “Um …I think I had enough”

  “Suit yourself Tristan”

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” I look over at him and my reply is more for shock value than anything.

  “I want more than enough!” well shock is not what I am looking at, damn it’s that sexy smile of his that he is giving me, complete with his teeth clinching his bottom lip, and shaking his head at me, sexy glares can’t keep this going, I believe a change of venue is what we need. On that note I walk pass him bottle in hand as I head towards the kitchen.

  “I need ice” he follows me into the kitchen I fill my glass with ice and walk out the French sliding doors out to the stone terrace that overlooks the pool in the backyard.

  Tristan follows me and he is impressed

  “Wow this is like nirvana, what a way to relax after work”

  The whole backyard is illuminated by a stone wall with lights scattered throughout the grounds, my brothers are landscapers they did all of this when I moved back here.

  “It’s so peaceful out here after a grueling day of dealing with men all day, customers attitudes and business in general, present company included” my smile lets him know that I am being my sarcastic self.

  Tristan takes his jacket off and puts it on the back of the patio chair; we sit next to one another looking out at the water in the pool.

  “Aria this house is you, I have very fond memories of you and I in your old house, oh the meals you made me, dancing in your kitchen, I remember like it was yesterday” Ok he is getting serious again change gears, I take a sip of my vodka, wow we gotta eat, a thought crosses my mind, I take a sip of my grey goose on ice it is cool refreshing so I down the glass and I see Tristan as he just looks me in surprise and wonder.

  “Hey are you hungry?” my question is suggestive but anything I say to him comes off that way.

  “Hungry for what Aria?” his is cute and most discerning, that look on his face right now is why I he gets me wet. Damn him after all this time he still pulls at me, but I can’t let him know the effect he has on me, God knows what he will do.

  So I give him a goofy look don’t make me hurt you! And try to lighten the mood between us.

  “I have something that I think you might like” he looks at me with sinister intent.

  “Do you now?” oh he is as ever challenging as his sexual innuendo is overflowing and oozing out his every pore.

  “Yes and get your mind out of the gutter” I say smiling as I grab my glass and walk back through the French doors to the kitchen.

  “Come on, I will warm it up” he is always quick with his mocking sexual undertones like I said he has teased me sexually and it still has the same effect on me, I am hot and bothered in places he should not have access to.

  I fix myself another drink as slice a lime as I get busy with warming up a midnight supper for us, all this drinking and no food, no wonder I am coming unglued, well coming being the operative word here.

  “Halucki” he mummers as he is now smiling ear to ear, this is like his favorite thing that I make, it’s an old family recipe that has never been written down and has been passed from mother to daughter for generations.

  “Of course, I made it last night for our family dinner night” every Thursday the family gets together for a meal to catch up, I made breaded chicken cutlets and this family dish that is our comfort food, we are Hungarian and keep the traditions for the next generations, meaning my nieces and nephews and cousins.

  I grab the left overs out of the refrigerator, and before I shut it Tristan is over my shoulder.

  “Ah yes here we go if I am going to eat halucki I have to have a beer, right?”

  Shit! he just reminded me of my dad, who would always have his halucki with a beer after all these years he still remind me of him, the way he walks and his mannerisms the way he smokes, it is all coming back to me. I think I’ll keep that bit to myself; I make myself busy getting out plates and placemats, silverware. I put the casserole dish in the microwave to heat it through.

  Tristan walks over to the built in cherry desk near the table he moves the mouse on the computer and the sound that fills the room stops me dead in my tracks body and soul, this is the song that made me fall in love with him and the bastard is playing it! shit shit shit! Before I can even react he is at my back I feel him breathing at my ears as he whispers,

  “Dance with me?” it is not a question but a demand, he knows how to get to me, and he has always been this direct, forward and unbearable obtuse, forever pulling me into his sexual thrall.

  When he is like this in my face his game has always been to drive me crazy, teasing me and taunting me, and he is very good at it he uses music to set the mood and sexual desire takes over, because what is dancing? Making love set to music, I am under his spell and he knows exactly what he is doing the self-centered sexy bastard that he is.

  I turn around and he takes me in his arms, he holds me close, his stubble against my cheek, I can’t believe this song is still on my computer, I thought I got rid of everything Tristan Bach.

  He pulls away slightly and we look at one another his lips part and he sings the familiar lyrics.

  They echo and fill the room as they remind me of how I use to love to be in his arms and have him sing this song to me, desire runs through my pulsing veins as he sings the haunting melody I am consumed with him.

  “‘My heart is sad and lonely I sigh for you dear only’ “I can’t look in his eyes, they are piercing, captivating and the mother of all hypnotizing, but as his lips utter these words he pulls me close, his breath is at my ears and he drowns me in his all-consuming way. What I have missed the most about him were these tender stolen moments Oh what they use to do to me, they still have the same profound effect as every muscle south of my navel clinches, this is the seduction that he wields over me time and time again his gentle touch, his deep voice and his ever present libido was always a danger to my well-being. I move to pull away it is getting too much, I watch his lips move as he serenades me, romances me, I was always a slave to his kisses, I do admit no one has ever kissed me the way his lips kiss me and then suddenly I am pulled out from his whole seduction scene by...

  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, saved by the bell, microwave bell that is, I pull out of his embrace so eager to put some distance between us, he reluctantly lets me go, as he is stunned like he was caught in his own trance, guess he got in over his head, I don’t know and I really shouldn’t care.

  I grab the casserole out of the microwave and head over to the table, he holds out a chair for me I serve him and grab him a glass for his beer, me vodka is always my drink of choice.

  The air between us lightens up as we share a meal, I recall how he is such a foodie, we both are, this recipe has been in our family for ages, its cabbage and pasta with bacon and cheese, he smiles at me as he digs in, the joy on his face is heartwarming, he enjoys food, he savors every bite and there is no wonder why he owns a restaurant, he has always been a great cook, he is phenomenal in the kitchen.

  “You know Tristan I use to love to watch you cook, you were always honest and yourself when you cook” he looks at me and I bite my lip, as I recall how we would work all day and get together for a drinks at my house and I would cook and we had the best time, he was a wiz in the kitchen, more with technique and dishes from around the world, he marries elements quite well together he was always making wonderful dishes, me I am just family favorites, not the gourmet cook at all.

  “Aria your dishes were always mouthwatering because you cooked with love” he always use to say that to me.

  We both relax a bit as we share a meal, he calms and the sexual desire between us fades as we have a more normal conversation, he inquir
es about the family and how my mom is doing, my nieces and nephews, they are all so much older now and we laugh when I tell him about some of the old gang we use to hang out with when we worked together, he is charming when he wants to be and I like this side of him.

  I am not scared or afraid of him when he is like this, because it is safe, I don’t feel like he has ulterior motives, because actually sex with him has always scared me, I don’t know if it is the way his desire is just unleashed over me or if it’s the fact that he is a well-endowed man who has teased me enough with his private parts that I feel completely over whelmed whenever he starts with the sexual banter but mostly I have always felt that I would just be another notch on his bed post and I couldn’t have the love of my life see me as just a conquest.

  We talk like two old friends and I think that maybe this can be ok, maybe we can be friends and the moment the thought crosses my mind, he touches my cheek and it hits me where it shouldn’t. Why is it that he does this to me and not my fiancé? The only relationship he is interested in is between the sheets it is quite clear and I am quite aroused.

  We finished the halucki, and the look on his face he just loved it.

  “Aria that was the best yet, I have always been amazed how you cook like this, it was always one of the things I loved about you” he complimented me and thanked me for feeding him and used the words I wanted to hear years ago not now. Shit, shit, shit.

  “My pleasure Tristan, as I recall you were always very picky” he would cook for me at his place or he would ask me to cook instead of going out, he’d bring over a bottle and we’d make dinner, listen to music and he would sing to me, I know he was just playing with me and toying with my affections but all those songs, those haunting lyrics that made me fall in love with him. I look at this complicated man today and the memories seem so real but seem like a lifetime ago.

  “Aria you cook with love and that is why I fell in love with you” ok what has my food fueled his desire? Quick gotta change this form of questioning and like now.