She's texting as we walk to the curb, my arm on her elbow steering her, but she balks when I gesture for her to get in.
"I want to go to a hotel, Harry," she says quite calmly and sincerely. "If your driver can't take me to one, I can get a cab."
Ouch. She's clearly still hurt, and her chilly demeanor is not related at all to the freezing New York February weather. If she would just give me an opportunity to explain, I know I could make it up to her.
I live for you. I long for you.
Expelling a deep breath, I turn her to face me, "Give me ten minutes, and then if you still want a hotel, I'll pay for the room." Watching her consider my offer is about the same amount of anxiety I had the first time I played Sign of the Times for Nick. I stand in front of her, my eyes pleading, and when she gives a quick nod, my heart rejoices.
Guiding her into the vehicle, I steer her to the backseat, away from our driver who is not someone I know, climbing in behind her. We've got no longer than 10 minutes to get to my place, so I need to do my best convincing before she realizes we've arrived.
I know I've got a long road ahead of me, though, when she turns her head away, watching the traffic out of the window, her eyes dead. She's weary. That bone-deep exhaustion that weighs you down as though you are carrying a ton of coal on your shoulders. Even though I know it can't all be because of me, I feel a lot of responsibility.
"Olivia," I start.....
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The knock at the door startles Meg who was just in the process of texting her parents to check on Titus. They hadn't been too thrilled about keeping him for the three days she would be gone, but she convinced them that the work trip was necessary (which it is), and they finally relented. Opening the door to find no one there, Meg leans out of the door, looking up and down the hallway. It's as empty as a generous man's pockets. She starts to close the door when the knocking comes again. Swinging the door open wide, she looks once more. As the knocking continues, she recognizes that it's from another door -- the one to the adjoining room.
"Meg?" Xavier's voice comes through the portal, and Meg relaxes, twisting the lock and swinging back the metal barrier to reveal his face on the other side.
"Hi," she blushes, shuffling her feet a bit.
"Hi," he responds, smiling at her. "Um, Olivia just texted. There was some mistake with her room, so she's going to stay in another hotel. She suggested we have dinner without her."
Meg doesn't know what to say. She's in an adjoining room with the man her parents would hate to see her with, and he's her boss no less. But she also feels a warmth spreading from her stomach to her limbs, reaching into her fingers and toes. A quiet dinner with Xavier where neither of them had to cook? Heaven.
Deciding to attempt a little flirtation, Meg saucily asks, "What'dya have in mind, sailor?" and winks.
A slow smile spreads across Xavier's face. "Wellllllll......I was wondering," he looks at his feet, then at the ceiling, "if maybe you wanted to order from room service and hang out watching movies tonight."
Her eyes widen, and he rushes to fill the silence, "Or we could go grab a slice somewhere. Or eat something fancy if you want. Or we don't have to spend time together. I mean, we've been together a lot lately, and I can see how you would be getting tired......"
Meg shushes him by placing her index finger over his lips then leaning forward to replace her fingertip with her own lips. Xavier responds in kind, but has to remind himself not to get too greedy. Meg is special. She doesn't need a man pawing her, but rather a gentle soul leading her. He presses his lips softly to hers, and when she steps back, he can't help that the corners of his mouth turn up.
"Your place or mine?" she asks seductively, then ruins the moment by bursting into spontaneous giggles.
"I think my suite is bigger than yours," Xavier reveals, "there's a sofa in here."
Meg is relieved. That means they won't have to watch television on the bed, which is what she feared. Nodding, she says, "Let me freshen my makeup, and I'll be right over."
"You don't need any makeup," Xavier sincerely tells her, "You're perfect just the way you are."
She raises an eyebrow at him and then shakes her head. "You're not the person people think you are, Xavier Alexander Tarrango," and she rolls the r's just like he would. "But I still need a minute or two."
He nods, and she closes her door, leaning back against it, trying to quell her racing heart. Moving quickly once she's calm, Meg brushes her teeth and her hair before using the restroom. Finally, when she feels she's ready, she knocks on Xavier's door, and he opens it with a sweeping gesture, bowing slightly at the waist.
"My lady," he greets her, "Would you care to look over the menu?"
==========
I've got nothing to lose by being upfront with her from the beginning, "I'm sorry." Hopefully the words coming from my mouth are being heard because she just continues gazing out of the window at the city. "I'm really sorry, Olivia. I screwed up. I know I did. Royally. King Charles would have my head."
She doesn't even register my words with a nod or a twitch. Her countenance doesn't change one iota, and that's how I know I'm going to have to go deeper.
"You've shared so much of yourself with me, and I know how hard that has been for you." That gets me an eyebrow raise, but she continues watching the pedestrians on the streets instead of looking my way. "You've let me into your world, and I have been stubborn and closed. But you gotta know it's hard for me too! I haven't had a woman other than my mum or my sister at my Brooklyn apartment since...." my voice trails off, hoping she will know who I mean.
Quietly, so faintly I can barely hear her, she speaks, "If you can't even say her name, Harry, then maybe you're not over her."
Dammit. Now I want to explode. "Her name is Misty, and I can say it all day long!!! Misty. Misty. Misty. I told you that she's in the past. After all, I'm the one who called off the engagement." My angry voice fills the small space, and I realise I've fucked up again. She doesn't need to be screamed at.
"Fuck," I whisper under my breath, "I don't know why you and the rest of the world cannot accept that my situation with Misty is behind me."
But now she's angry too, speaking at the window, "You don't make any sense, Harry. First you freeze when a reporter mentions her by name. Then you admit you haven't had a woman over since you broke up with her. And now you tell me that her name means nothing to you, but you're practically screaming it. Just tell me the truth. We're not in a relationship, so it doesn't matter to me, but you're only hurting yourself by hiding your feelings for her."
Shaking my head, I ponder what to say next. Minnie still hasn't looked at me, and I feel lost, like I'm drifting out to sea on an iceberg. The only person who can save me is Minnie, and she doesn't seem to care that I'm floating away.
Taking the plunge, my voice as calm as I can make it, even though it shakes a bit, I shatter the tense silence with two words, "I'm scared."
===============
The room service waiter from David Burke Kitchen in the hotel has just left the room, and Meg is scrolling through the list of movies on Xavier's television while he lays out their feast on the coffee table in front of them. At Meg's request, there's no alcohol, but there's plenty of everything else. The hotel's restaurant is considered "New American", and Meg has no clue what that actually means. But they've ordered a variety of items from the menu, including the Clothesline Bacon (extra thick-cut candied bacon, black pepper maple glaze) to share, the Jurgielewicz Farm Duck (roasted breast, confit leg potato cake, mustard greens, sweet and sour date chutney) for Meg, and the Roasted Goffle Road Farms Chicken Breast (whipped potatoes, mushroom and chicken sausage fricassee) for Xavier. For dessert, they've ordered the Cheesecake Lollipop Tree which sits on the table, beckoning Meg's eyes with its cherry pink cashmere inside, triple chocolate tuxedo covering, and toffee top hat. She must remember to save some room for this special treat.
Meg finally settles on a movie, and Xavier's eyes widen as the first strains of the score come on the large screen in front of them. It's a sweeping soundtrack, perfect for an action-packed space adventure, and Meg is pleased that he looks excited by the decision. Hell, it has been ages since she's watched anything that wasn't animated, so this should be quite fun. She digs into the food in front of her.
"Oh, wow. X. This is soooooo good. I've never had duck before, but it's delicious. So crispy," Meg mumbles, her mouth full, juices threatening to escape, so she grabs a napkin. "This is so fancy!" And she means it. She's never been treated to a meal quite like this. She could maybe cook it if she had the recipes and the ingredients, but to be able to just enjoy it without worry is the perfect treat. Right now, she feels like a princess.
Xavier enjoys spoiling Meg. She's done so much for him that never even registered, including making sure he had food in his fridge and clean clothes in his closet. The movie has her on the edge of her seat throughout, and she anxiously clutches Xavier's thigh a few times as her nerves overwhelm her. Once X is finished eating, he slides a bit closer to her on the sofa after turning off the lamp on the side table. His arm snakes around her shoulders, and she doesn't freak out when it rests there. Instead, she relaxes into him, giving him her full weight as she leans on him. This feels so right.
===========
Her head has whipped around at my words. "Scared?" she echoes. "Scared of what?"
Finally I've gotten through to her, so I decide I better continue on this track of revealing the truth, "I misjudged Misty. Badly. Everything I thought I knew about her was easily shared, and most of it was a lie. She knew what I wanted to hear and she fed me the lines that would make me believe her."
I swallow, wishing I had a bottle of water with me. My throat is dry, as scratchy as a wool sweater. But I've started, so I might as well finish. My voice squeaks as it exits my mouth as if I were a teenager again, "I'm scared that I'm a horrible judge of character. That I will let another imposter into my world. My safe, uncomplicated orbit."
Never in my life have I felt as exposed as I do in this moment. Her response at this point doesn't matter too much because I'm not saying one more word. Plus I've just decided that a hotel is the best place for her. This was always a doomed endeavor. Pulling out my phone, I start searching my apps for a hotel: someplace nearby so we can drop her off quickly. My need to get home to my refuge has grown to impossibly high levels.
My elbows are on my knees as I lean forward, scrolling through lodgings to find the best one. Since I'm paying for it, I might as well book the best. I hear her sweet voice in my ear, "What are you doing?"
Without looking at her, I reply, "Finding you a hotel."
She pulls the phone from my hands, and I am unsure what to do now. Maybe she wants to be in control of the hotel. Can't say I blame her at this point. But she turns my phone off, tucking it in her pocket. Threading her arm through mine, she scrapes her nails up my arm until our hands entwine. She places her chin on my shoulder, and I can feel its bony edge.
"We're a strange couple," Minnie whispers. "Determined to keep the other at arm's length." I feel her lips through my shirt as she presses a kiss to my upper arm. "The truth is that I had no interest in seeing your apartment in Tribeca-- until I knew you didn't want me to. Let's have dinner somewhere, and then we'll find me a hotel for tonight."
But I'm shaking my head, unable to voice my feelings, as they are a knotted ball stuck in my throat.
"You don't want dinner?" she starts to withdraw her hand, but I grasp it more firmly, refusing to let her go.
"Don't want you to stay somewhere else tonight." Turning towards her, I unclasp our hands only so I can put my arm around her, pulling her close. "I want you to stay with me."
"Are you sure?" she asks, reaching to touch my face, tracing her hand along my jawline.
Twisting in her direction, I press a kiss to her hand. "I've never been more sure. I'm sorry about earlier. And I'm sorry you've had a shit day."
With a sigh, she relaxes completely into me. "Was that our first fight?"
"I think so," I concur, "and it scared me how easy it was for you to walk away from me."
"What scared me," she divulges, "is how much I didn't want to. For the last week, I've been convinced that I would figure out how to move past this attraction I feel for you. But today I became aware of how very much I don't want that to happen."
Her confession makes me feel tingly in ways I haven't felt in years. "Would it make sense for us to, I don't know, maybe think about opening ourselves to the possibility that there's more between us than just sex?" I ask.