Covered Part Two (9 page)

I could see why she would be comfortable doing performance art, if I looked like that, I wouldn’t mind being the center of attention either.

After an hour or so, she showed me her favorite little café. We took a spot on the sidewalk patio and she ordered us each a
café crème
and a
pain au chocolat
. The way the language fell off her tongue was beautiful, I decided I should learn French.

We sipped our coffees and nibbled the most delicate pastries stuffed with creamy chocolate and watched the world go by.

Madeline was really amazing. We had some laughs and at one point couldn’t breathe over some impression she’d done of her last boyfriend.

Finally our visit was over and she walked me back to the hotel.

“Remember where the café is,” she said, “Gavin adores pain au chocolat, he would love to sample the best in Paris.”

“I’ll take him there tomorrow, I promise.”

“You are good to him,” she said, “I’m so pleased with that. You two are radiant together, you can see it’s real. There’s something magical between you two, and I wish all the best for you both.”

“Thank you Madeline,” I told her, “you don’t know how much that means to me. I love your brother and I want your family to know that I would never do a thing to hurt him. And I’m here for the long run.”

She smiled and said she was happy for it, and she would come see us in Seattle soon.

As she walked away I felt buoyed by her acceptance.

Finally, I really belonged.

“Love, are you awake?” Gavin’s voice penetrated my deep sleep.

I mumbled something and turned over to pull him towards me. He climbed under the covers and moved his naked body against me, waking me up fully.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s just past one,” he said, “I’m so sorry. It all went much longer than expected. As it was, they were disappointed I didn’t want to spend all night chasing them all over Paris, from one club to another.”

“You could have,” I said, “I wouldn’t have minded.” I might have, in actuality, but didn’t want to seem possessive.

“I couldn’t wait to come back here, the moment the ink dried on the contract, I grabbed my jacket and bolted,” he said and laughed. He nibbled my shoulder and I shivered with the sensation.

“I was waiting for you,” I said, “I meant to stay awake but drifted off.”

“Did all that masturbation wear you out, Ms. Britton?” he asked and slid his hand lower, to my cleft.

“Oh yes, Mr. James,” I said with amusement, “I’ve been touching myself all night thinking of your fat cock.”

He breathed in sharply and growled, “I know you’re joking, but fuck that’s a sexy image.”

He rose up above me and parted my lips, found my clit and encircled it with his finger. I opened myself to him and pulled him down so I could kiss him.

And as much as I loved his finger, I needed his cock buried inside of me.

“Fuck me,” I said and wondered again where this wanton woman had come from. Had she been there all along, only woken up when Gavin took me the first time? “I need to feel you inside of me,” I whispered and pulled against him.

“As you wish,” he replied and fell on me, kissing and plunging into me with his hardness.

It was a frenzied session, brought on by the hours we’d been apart. We came quickly, our bodies undulating together in shuddering release.

I bit his shoulder at one point, afraid to give voice to the feelings that were rising in me. Afraid I’d wake the hotel, the city, with my lusty cries.

“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse with lust and want as he came inside of me. Condoms were long past and I could feel him, hot and wet, filling me.

“I love you,” I said and locked eyes with him, clenching my pussy around him in my own orgasm, drawing as much of him inside of me as I could get.

We crashed back down to earth together and lay in each other’s arms, panting and satiated. For the moment at least.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asked and I shook my head no, still unable to speak, still afraid I’d scream his name and my undying love for him. “I’ll order something for us,” he continued, “we’ll need our energy.”

I nodded and laid back, basking in the afterglow as they say, while he ordered up some assorted meats and cheeses.

We ate, we made love, we slept, and we repeated it all until we fell asleep in the dusky morning light. Our limbs were tangled around each other and our lives were undeniably connected, as deeply as our hearts and as tightly as our love.

***

I woke just before noon and drank in the sight of him. He was snoring lightly, exhausted and satisfied.

I decided to get him a treat, some of the pain au chocolate Madeline had shown me the evening before.

I kissed the tip of his nose, left him a note, got dressed and went out into Paris on my own.

The day was perfect, the sun was shining and there was a crisp feeling to the air. People were bustling back and forth and I was finally able to pick out the native Parisians as opposed to the tourists.

I felt like I had Paris in my blood, my own journey started here after all, the moment my father had asked my mother to marry him.

I was sure I knew where the café was, but I quickly got turned around. I didn’t panic, I was in Paris, not the jungles of South America, so I enjoyed my stroll.

And hour later, I stumbled across the café by accident. I was so overjoyed that I almost forgot how to order. Luckily the man behind the counter spoke English and I was able to get our treats along with two coffees.

It was a fairly quick walk back to the hotel and the coffee was still hot when I made my way across the lobby.

“Miss,” a voice called out to me just before I reached the elevators. “Miss, please, you are not to go up.”

I turned and saw one of the hotel employees, the front desk clerk who had checked us in just days before.

“I’m staying here, remember?” I said, assuming he’d forgotten me.

“
Non
,” he insisted, “I was told you are no longer welcome.”

“What do you mean? Who told you this?”

“Monsieur James,” he said and looked apologetic, “I am sorry, I have my orders, you are not to go up. Your bags are being brought down and a car will take you to Charles de Gaulle.”

The airport we’d flown into. I still didn’t comprehend what was going on. Where was Gavin? We weren’t due to leave Paris for two more days.

“There must be some kind of mistake,” I said and made my way towards the elevator, “I’ll talk to Gavin and get this sorted out.”

“Non,” he repeated and rushed to block me, “I am sorry, I have orders. Please don’t make me call security.”

I felt as though somebody had punched my stomach when I realized he was serious. The air went out of my lungs and I couldn’t breathe.

“I need to see him,” I said, pleading.

“Come over here until your bags arrive,” he said and gestured to the front desk. As if in a dream or a nightmare, I followed him. I felt like a fool and placed the coffees on the counter. The little bag of pastries was in my purse. My face was burning red and I was humiliated. I didn’t know what was happening.

I pulled out my phone and texted Gavin frantically.

Stuck downstairs, they won’t let me up. Where are you?

I waited for a reply, but there was nothing.

What’s going on?
I wrote rapidly.

The clerk was watching me with a look on his face that let me know he was embarrassed for me, but didn’t want to get involved.

The elevator dinged and opened, and I looked up, expecting Gavin. Maybe we had to leave for the US early, maybe he’d been called back for a job.

It was Madeline. She was carrying my luggage and had a look of blazing fury on her face.

“Madeline, what is going on?” I yelled as she approached.

“You should know,” she said, her jaw stiff with anger. She shoved the bags towards me and added, “Take the car to the airport, I’ve booked your ticket back to Seattle. You leave in an hour, so you’d better hurry. It’s coach by the way, no more free ride on Gavin’s coattails. If it were up to me, I would have left you stranded on the street.”

I started to cry, her cruel voice cut me deep and the tears came, unbidden. “What’s going on?” I said, “I just went out to get him breakfast, where is he?”

“You will stay away from him. I think you’ve done enough damage,” she spat.

“What damage? What are you talking about?” I begged her, I was sobbing by then and tears were streaming down my face.

She rummaged around her handbag and pulled out a newspaper. “Tell me now that you don’t know,” she said, her voice dripping with venom, “and to think he trusted you with the one secret that could break him. Enjoy your life, Sarai, but don’t ever contact my brother again. You’ve destroyed him and our family.”

With that she turned on her heel and stomped back to the elevator. She got inside and was gone.

I was stunned, and opened the paper she’d thrust at me. Through my tears I saw the worst thing I could possibly imagine.

It was a British paper, the Daily something, nothing more than a gossip rag but read by millions.

On the front page was the photo we’d taken in front of the Eiffel Tower. It was blown up and a story surrounded it.

That wasn’t what made me break down and fall to the floor though.

The headline did that.

It read, “Nerdy Book Blogger Tells All.” The print underneath got even worse, “Gavin James is Baby Charlie! The secret meaning behind his tattoos and how she got him to fall in love with her.”

I felt the clerk grab my elbow and help me up. “Miss, your car is here, you have to go.”

Clutching the paper and letting him take my bags, I stumbled to the car and collapsed in the back seat.

I didn’t want to leave, but I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t have enough money to buy my own ticket, and I didn’t even know where the nearest hotel was if I did manage to get Auntie G to send me some cash.

I was lost and rejected and absolutely confused.

On a hunch I grabbed my phone and checked my blog. At precisely the moment I’d been joined with Gavin, coming and loving him, Jenny had posted a story.

It had to have been Jenny, but the blog had my named signed to it.

She must have hacked my Wordpress account and used my name to post the disgusting, hateful story of Gavin’s horrific past and our beautiful relationship.

She’d taken the one glorious thing about my life and ruined it.

She had used the photo from my Instagram account, and hadn’t even gotten everything right, but she’d deduced the most important parts. Gavin had been adopted and his tattoos were a memorial to his dead mother and siblings.

She made it look like I had been playing him for a story all along, she made me seem ruthless and heartless.

I texted him to let him know my suspicion to tell him it wasn’t me and beg his forgiveness.

I got nothing back. I huddled in a miserable mass, staring at my phone, willing it to buzz and light up with his reply.

The driver politely ignored me as I sobbed in the backseat all the way to the airport. At one point he handed me a box of tissues and I let it all out until I was one disgusting streaky faced mess.

I didn’t know how I could fix this, and I didn’t know how Gavin would ever forgive me, but I knew I would fight to get him back and I would find a way to make this better.

And I would make Jenny pay for everything she’d done.

Until then I would be broken, damaged, half a girl walking in a world devoid of color, her heart left in the hands of Gavin James.

Until then, I was nothing.