"I can start over. Or you could bat your pretty eyes at another designer. Or turn your fiance loose on the world of them... which would probably result in you having only to choose between a thousand different beautiful dresses, ridiculously last minute or not..."
"Or I could wear this one, the one that I asked you for, and that you made for me, and that I think is absolutely perfect."
"You don't have to say that, Claire. You won't hurt my feelings if you don't–"
"Do I not look pretty?"
"I don't need to actually roll my eyes at that, right?"
"No. Just like I shouldn't need to tell you how perfect it is for me."
"You're sure you want something so simple? That simple is really perfect for you? For that day?"
"I have enough chaos in my life, Genevieve. And enough complicated. I promise you, simple is perfect. And besides... I don't need a dress to make me a beautiful bride. I'll be that all by myself, and to Jaimin, more than for any other reason, simply because I want to be."
~
"Where are you?"
I'm surprised he waited so long. I've been out of his sight for almost two hours. "Somewhere where I can't be spied on."
"Very funny, Claire."
"Is it? Because I wasn't going for funny, merely true."
"Do I need to ask you again? Or why you've been wherever you are for two hours?"
No... "I'm standing in front of a mirror. And I shouldn't really need to explain to you how I could lose track of time doing that..."
"Well, aren't we arrogant today?"
"Yes we are. Instead of only just you, like every other day."
"Tell me where you are, Claire, so that I can arrogantly come and pay for whatever you're wearing that has kept me from seeing you for so long."
"Sorry, no can do."
"You want to try again?"
"No."
"If you think that was a request–"
"I don't, but my answer is still the same, and unchangeable, so–"
"Claire."
"Hmm?"
"Don't let your current state of besotted–and unseen by me–make you too brave. You'll be in my sight–and my reach–eventually."
"My favorite things to be in."
And that I'd like to keep that way. Which I won't do–based on the sound of his jaw clenching (yes, I do think I heard it), and his through-his-nose breath... I wonder if fire shot out of his nostrils?–if I don't give him at least a hint of why I'm hiding from him. "And I really meant that, but, brave or not, I know you're not amused, so... I'm standing in front of a mirror at Genevieve's, where you are NOT invited to or welcome to join me at, because of what I'm wearing, or, arrogantly or not, going to be allowed to pay for, just like I wasn't, because it's a gift."
"You're wearing your dress? The dress? That–"
"Yes."
"And feeling brave? And so beautiful that you're besotted?"
"Yes."
"I'd give anything to see that. ANYTHING, Claire."
"I'd rather you didn't."
"I don't mean the dress, Claire."
Of course he doesn't. "You mean my face."
"Please come back where I can see it. Please, Claire."
"Okay." Beautiful.
~
"What was it you called me on the phone? Besotted?"
"Mm-hmm."
"You should look in a mirror, Mr. Guillory." Because if ever someone was besotted...
"I'd have to look away from you to do that."
"And you don't want to do that?"
"No. NEVER."
"Okay. I didn't really want you to anyway."
And don't move so he doesn't have to.
I didn't make him wait to see what he wanted, or have to do it from afar or overhead. I came straight to the restaurant when I left Genevieve's. Straight to him, just like I'll walk the next time I put on that simply perfect dress, that, though his eyes can't see, his mind is on. "You really liked it? The dress?"
"I did," I say, and nod my head.
"That makes me very happy, Claire," he says before I can continue.
And I know that it does, but I still want to tell him why I liked it so much. And make him happier than he already is. "But not because it's pretty or beautiful, though it certainly is."
"Not because it is," he repeats, his purely beautiful anticipation of the 'real' reason swallowing me whole.
"No, not," I answer, and shake my head this time. "Because no dress, no matter how, could be as beautiful as the knowledge of what I'll wear it for, and what I'll be when I take it off."
And he understands... heard me loud and clear... and couldn't be happier... but he's still him. "When WHO takes it off, Claire?"
"If only that was a simple question... with a simple answer..."
"IT IS."
"Says the man who isn't."
"And who's waiting for an answer. The ONLY one I'll accept from your–may God help it to be–smart mouth."
"Don't misinterpret my hesitance to answer you, my love, with the YOU I know you're waiting for. I merely wanted to be specific, and found that that wasn't a simple thing."
"Do you hear that cracking sound, Claire?"
"No. But it's often hard to hear things over my thumping and pounding heart."
"Interesting choice of words... thumping... and pounding..."
"Again, says YOU."
"Is that your answer, Claire?"
"YOU? Of course it is. I just wasn't sure which one of you I'd be with when it was time for my dress to come off."
"Would you like to make a request?" he asks, understanding now completely my previous 'hesitation' to answer him. "For a particular me?"
"No, I love them all. And it will be my honor to be undressed by any one of them. You..."
He looks at me for a long moment, and then his cocky passes. Because, I think, a different him wants to be heard. And felt by me... "The honor will be all ours, Claire."
~
I'm just hanging up my phone when Jaimin lets himself into my office. Himself and his possessiveness. "Who were you talking to for the last hour? Who was making you smile for most of?"
"You know, Jaimin, if I wasn't so sure and understanding of the way you love me, I might think you didn't trust me."
"But since you are..."
"The Bouchards. And they say hello."
"Oh. Well, I hope you said hello back."
"I did."
"So, how are they?"
"They're good. Excited for the wedding. And thinking about, and if we needed anything."
"And do we?"
"No. We already have everything."
"I certainly do."
"So do I."
"And you told them that?"
"Yes."
"For an hour?"
"Well, it was a consolidated version. Because to truly tell them everything I have... well, that would have taken much longer than an hour. And probably forever, and that–"
"Is MINE. And part of that everything I have."
"And that I don't need help giving to you."
~
"Helllllo, GORGEOUS!"
Alaina is hanging out in the gallery with Emilie and I today, and I'm shocked at her greeting to a someone who entered it, until I turn around and see who the someone is.
"Hello, young Guillory girl," Loring replies with a Behave yourself tone.
That the young Guillory girl pretends not to hear. "I'm old enough."
He doesn't respond to that, merely shakes his head at her, and then looks at me. "Got a minute?"
"For you, of course."
"I have all day," Alaina calls out boldly, and I suddenly am disappointed that my 'surveillance' doesn't include sound. Because then she'd have already ratted her naughty self out to her brother and I wouldn't have to do it.
"She's something else," Loring says as soon as we're behind my closed office door.
"Yeah, and Jaimin would kill her if he knew what she was trying to be." Maybe I shouldn't tell him...
"Well, she'll never be it, so..."
"That's because you're a good man," I tell him. "Babe–and 'baby' magnet–or not."
"Did you just call me a babe, Claire?"
"I may see you with sisterly eyes, Loring, but I still see you. And why Alaina has a crush."
"Now I'm flattered."
"As you should be. So, what's up?"
"Actually, it's what's going to go down. Or who, rather."
If he were Jaimin, I might run with such a statement, but he's definitely not, and would never talk to me in such a way. "Huh? You lost me."
"I was just thinking about your upcoming walk down an aisle... or through a flower field, at least... and that maybe you needed an escort. And I just wanted to tell you that if you do, I'd be happy to do it. For you."
"You would?"
"Of course I would."
"I love you for that."
"You don't have to love me for it, Claire, I just wanted you to know that you didn't have to do it alone. Not that I'd be your first choice or anything... or one at all..."
"Shush. You'd be a perfect choice. And I do love you."
"And think I'm a babe."
"With what I now know about you, definitely."
"What you now know about me? Has Gennie been telling you things?"
"Maybe."
"I should want to leave now, shouldn't I?"
"No. Not unless it's to go see her."
"She does need to be silenced..."
"What you do when you get to her is your business."
"Until she tells you about it?"
"Don't be embarrassed, Loring. Or mad at her. I said you were a good man... and I always knew that..
"Talking to Gennie only made me know it more. And how perfect of a choice you are... for a lot of things."
~
"The things you do right in front of my eyes..."
"I do because I have nothing to hide. Not that I could hide anything from you... you know, since your eyes are EVERYWHERE..."
"Are you going to make me ask you?"
"You mean why I gave my friend a big hug and a kiss?"
"And about a thousand smiles, yes."
"Well, the smiles–that you so ridiculously exaggerated the number of–were because he's, while also my friend, a truly good man. Which, believe me, you should share my appreciation for. And–"
"Give me a reason to."
"You mean besides the fact that he's my friend?"
"YES."
"And yours?"
"Claire."
"Well, I've never known much about his 'romantic' side, for lack of a better description, but, according to Genevieve, he's quite the guy. And she's ridiculously happy, so–"
"And while I'm happy for your friend, Claire, since you clearly are, I don't see how that necessarily warrants my deeper appreciation for or of your other."
"You know your sister is beautiful, right?"
"I'm aware, yes. Though not at all about what that has to do with our current conversation."
"Most men would be incredibly flattered by attentions from her, wouldn't you agree? And probably very tempted by, if she were to direct them at them."
"She's not directing her attentions at anyone."
"That you're aware of. Or saw clearly, perhaps, when you witnessed their unmistakable directing before what else you witnessed."
"Stop talking in circles, Claire."
"Your beautiful little sister has a crush. That I think would be dangerous if on perhaps anyone but who it is on."
"Are you telling me that Alaina has directed her attentions at Loring?"
"Yes. And quite boldly, actually. Hence the 'would be dangerous' if he wasn't the man that he is."
"He told you this?"
"Once, yes... after the first time he met her... but, no, she did this time. Because she threw them at him right in front of me."
"This happened today?"
"Yes."
"And there was no misinterpreting it?"
"No, definitely not. I wouldn't be telling you if there was. Or if I wasn't worried about her someday in the future throwing them at a less rubber target."
"Rubber?"
"Of course rubber, Jaimin. Loring would never even entertain such a thought, your young sister or not, let alone reach out to catch anything beyond one. No matter how beautiful and boldly trying to tempt him it was."
"Trying and failing."
"He called her a little girl, Jaimin. Ultimately. And not in any way that she should have misinterpreted or not heard."
"She heard him or she didn't?"
"Oh, she heard him, she just put her own spin on what she heard."
"And that was?"
"She told him she was 'old enough'."
"I'm glad she thinks so..." he says, and kisses the top of my head before turning and walking out the door.
And, for once, I'm glad to see him walking away from me. And for more than the view his doing so provided me. Because before I saw that, I saw his eyes.
And the storm brewing in them that has nothing to do with me. FOR ONCE.
Sorry, Alaina... sort of.
~
I never gave much thought to my walk to Jaimin...
But after the Bouchards' call and Loring's visit, both because they had...
Well, I can't get it off of my mind. And when Aricin comes to see me a couple of days later, I know it's exactly what's on his. Since his youngest child is still alive...
"What is that wonderful smell?" I ask, just as he pulls back from his hello kiss to my cheek.
"Me, definitely," he says, and then winks at me as he sets the wonderful smelling package on my desk.
"How did you know I hadn't eaten lunch yet?"
"I checked with your personal chef. Before I told him you were going to fire him right after lunch."
"You didn't happen to record that conversation, did you?"
"No, sorry. If you want to see him disgustingly arrogant today, you'll have to give it to yourself."
I laugh and watch him unwrap his gift for me, the anticipation of it dancing in my stomach along with the butterflies his greatest always gives me.
And the ones his visit, and the reason for it, another wonderful to me, have sent fluttering. "So, I know my wife is driving you crazy with wedding talk... and that I promised to keep as tight a rein as I could on that...
"But I'd like to talk to you about a part of it. Would that be alright?"
"Of course."
"I know that I'm Jaimin's father, not yours, and that I'm in every way gaining something by you marrying my son, and in no way losing anything or having to let go of or give away...
"But if you need or want someone to do that... give you away... it would be my humble honor to do so. And I promise not a selfish."
"I don't think you could ever be capable of selfish."
"If you knew how truly happy I am that you're marrying my son, you might not think that."
"Or I'd know with absolute certainty that I was right to."
"You're a gift, Claire. To him and this family. Don't ever think any of us sees you as anything different."
"I'm pretty sure your daughter would disagree with that after the other day."
"My daughter is one wrong word away from being sent to a convent. And she knows it. And is too fashion-concerned, at the least, to dare even open her mouth, let alone let anything come out of it."
"Still not talking to anyone, huh?"
"No, and if it goes on much longer, I'm going to wonder if Jaimin actually removed her tongue."
"I didn't see any blood anywhere, if it helps ease your mind."
He smiles at me, but then his expression turns serious again. "You truly are a gift, Claire. To all of us."
"Thank you for thinking that. Too...
"Because I know that that's how he sees me...
"And it's for that reason that I have to decline your wonderful offer. That, please know, means the world to me. I'm–"
"You don't have to explain, Claire. I just wanted to make the offer."
"But I'd like to, Aricin. I'd like you to understand why I can't accept it."
"Then I'm all ears."
"Though he does see me as a gift... I think he also sometimes sees me as one that he's taken. Given to himself...
"And I don't want him to see me that way. And especially not when I'm his wife.
"And I think the best way I can make him see me in another... and the every purely his way that he should...
"Is by me taking that walk alone. Taking myself to him. With no one guiding or leading me. And no one pulling or pushing me–God knows he can interpret things in strange and irrational ways...
"No one but him, simply because he is, and everything I want and love and need."
"That is indeed a gift, Claire. And one he'll understand, without a doubt, that he's being given."
"I hope so."
"No, Claire... you know so. Just like I do that my son is the luckiest man on earth, because he found the most selfless woman on it to love him."
~
"Pinch me," I say, just as Jaimin puts my refilled glass of wine in my hand and sits down next to me on our couch.
"And why would I do that?"
"So I'll know if I'm dreaming."
"If you want some kind of proof from me that you're not, I can think of much better ways to give it to you than pinching you, Claire."
"I was actually going to say nevermind, because if I am dreaming, I don't want to be woken up... but now uhhh..." Now I'm toast because he has my ponytail in his hand and his lips have found the back of my neck beneath it.
"Nevermind the nevermind?" he asks, his words caressing my just kissed–and toasted–skin.
"Yeah, that. Definitely that..."
"As you wish," he generously whispers, as his fingers pull lazily through my just released by him hair. "But tell me, why was it that you thought you were dreaming in the first place?"
"Ummmmm..."
He chuckles at my incoherence, and, though he asked me a question, he does–or stops doing–nothing so that I can regain enough brain to mouth function to answer it.
But he's the answer, and eventually my wanting him to know that is strong enough to make my mouth move with clarity. "Because it's nowhere near midnight and you're here with me."
Normally it would be a strange thing to say, and a not in any way dreamlike reality to question, but the last week, almost two, actually, has been insanely chaotic for him at Jouissance. Not one, but two, of his most valuable and reliable chefs have been gone due to serious illness or injury, and he's had to take up the slack. There were many nights I came home alone after dinner, to spend the entireties of them the same.
I spent most of that solitary time in my studio, where he often found me still, painting the hours without him away, and trying to make them feel like merely minutes, but a couple of nights he came home so late that I was already asleep, no matter how hard I'd tried to stay awake. Twice I fell asleep on the couch in his office, having stayed just to be close to him, my days of needing space seemingly ones of another life, and not the one I'm living, and want to live as many moments of with him next to me or in front of.
"I should have cameras installed in your kitchen. Then I could watch you every second that you're not here."
"Is that right?" he says with a half smirk, half smile, and pulls me onto his lap.
I let him take the glass of wine from my hand once I'm situated, and he sets it on the table beside him, grasping both of mine in his once he has. "Yes, and only fair, I'd say."
"Just in my kitchen?" he asks, his eyes gazing tenderly at me as his thumbs graze the same over my skin.
"Yes, since that's where you spend most of your time. Well, when you're not schmoozing your indulged guests."
"I don't schmooze."
"Now, now, no fibbing. I've seen you."
"No, you've been schmoozed by me. And that was because you're an exception. My only. Which I hope I don't actually have to remind you of the fact of."
"You don't."
"You do know, don't you, Claire?"
"Know what?"
"That I don't schmooze. Or anything else."
"Yes, I was just kidding..."
"And that if I'm not here with you, I'm in that kitchen, and nowhere else."
"Of course I do."
"And that if you could see me, every second that I'm away from you, you'd see me working."
"Jaimin, I was kidding. And only, and certainly not insinuating that you've been, or accusing you of, doing anything else."
"I didn't say you were accusing me of anything, Claire. But I know things have been crazy, and different the last couple of weeks, and I just–"
"It never even entered my mind. And never would, no matter how late you came home."
"I hope not."
"Do I need to remind you of how you love me?"
"Never."
"So, just that I know how it is? And how much?"
"No, not that either... but maybe you should pinch me."
"You're not dreaming, I promise."
"I'd still like proof."
I pinch him instead of suggesting a better way, like he did, and like I'm sure he thought I'd do, and he laughs.
"You deserved that," I tell him, and it brings a sexy and all-consuming smirk to his lips.
Before they form the question I've waited all day to hear. "And you deserve the very BEST of everything... so, tell me, sweetheart... How was your lunch today?"
