Your Song (24 page)

As I reach closer to the doors of the University of Toronto campus, I speculate about what Danny would think of Caroline.
Gorgeous,
is the first thing he’d say. Danny was always the ladies’ man and one to appreciate the delectable female form. I can’t help but wish that from wherever he is, if anywhere, that he’s had a hand in bringing her to me.  As I pull the heavy door open and make my way inside, I’m struck by the comfort I feel that Danny is with me, inside my heart. The more I think about him, the longer I keep him alive. Who would have thought, me and Danny together, strolling the halls of the University of Toronto, going to meet my girl?

As I approach her office, I notice the door is slightly ajar. I’m here hoping to surprise Caroline with a quick visit, maybe take her for lunch on a patio nearby or just to share a middle of the day kiss. After I dropped off the
Tear Soup
book Leslie lent me at home, I stopped by the florist in Yorkville and picked up some flowers to surprise Caroline with, bright yellow and pink tulips that caught my eye. As I approach her door I’m reminded of the connection between Hugo’s Marius, stalker- extraordinaire
-
turned-Prince-Charming and me.
Look how far I’ve come!
As I draw nearer to her office door, with the bouquet nestled comfortably in my hands, I hear Caroline talking on the phone. I’m stopped in my tracks by the delightful sound of her sweet voice.

“My
flight leaves on Tuesday night . . . yes, I know . . . I will . . . well, I’ll just have to sit him down and tell him that . . . it’s over . . . for real this time . . . I know. . . we both know that Marc doesn’t take ‘no’ easily. I’ll have to be strong . . . really strong this time…yeah; he says he’s picking me up from the airport when I arrive. I will . . . okay . . . I’ll let you know how it goes . . . wish me luck, Jenn, I have to go. Bye.” Caroline hangs up the phone.

Holy fuck
. I twirl my body around like a cat trying to catch its tail. I am spinning, literally and figuratively. Amy was right.
There is someone else.
This Marc guy, a Frenchman, no doubt. I wipe the sweat burrowing on my upper lid with my left hand, squeezing the bouquet a little too tightly with my right hand.
What am I going to do?
Always the strategist, I lay out my options: Confront Caroline straight up about this guy or wait until she tells me? Pondering the latter, I recall her telling me on Saturday night that she is unattached.
So, why didn’t she say?
Hmmm. . . .

I pace quietly in the hallway reeling from what I just overheard, making sure I don’t walk in front of her half opened door so she could see me. I summon Danny, wherever he is.
Dan, what would you do right now? What clever comment would you make to Caroline to get her to fess up
? I take a deep breath and slowly make my way to her door.
Stay with me, Dan. Don’t leave me now.
And, just as I step into the threshold, there she is, my vision of absolute loveliness, standing in front of me.

“Eric! What a surp
rise!” she reaches up, puts her hand on my shoulder and tiptoes up to meet my face. A kiss. She plants the softest, the lightest of kisses on my lips.
I am gone.
How does she do this to me?  She has got me, hook, line, and sinker. Suddenly, all the anger and frustration I was feeling moments ago have evaporated. I hold her close to me cherishing her like a precious child. I inhale her captivating scent: A mixture of a sweet smelling French perfume, and sexiness all over again. Unable to let her go now, I kiss her back with fervor and longing, my lips lingering on hers even after the kiss is over. I could stay here, my face touching hers, forever.

“Well,
a midday visit by the handsome Enrique Iglesias . . . to what do I owe this pleasure?” Caroline asks as she pulls away from me.

“These are for you,” as I hand her the flowers. She takes them gracefully, leaning in to sniff them and touches the soft petals between her fingertips.

“Tulips are my absolute favorite. They remind me of when I was in Holland a few years ago,” her voice trails off and her eyes glaze over just slightly.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask looking around her small office crammed with overfilled bookshelves, piles of papers on her desk and her MacBook lighting up the entire surface of her desk.

“No, not at all. I was just doing some tidying up in here . . . before I leave for France,” she says looking around embarrassingly at the mounds of paper strewn all over the place.

“So, you’re leaving when?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. I take a seat in the chair across from her desk and watch Caroline as she makes her way around to the chair behind her desk. She looks delectable, as always. Wearing white denim Capri pants, a plain white tank top and those ballet flat shoes she was wearing on the plane when I first saw her. Her long, straight hair is hanging down with the front piece of hair covering her face pinned back by a single clip. Her makeup is light and fresh looking as ever. Donning a gold watch and diamond stud earrings, she is the epitome of class and sexiness all rolled into one. My eyes roll down to her chest area and I am turned on by what I see; perfect shaped boobs and just the right size.
Oh, what I’d like to. . . .

“I’m leaving tonight,” she says looking straight at me. Her fingers are propped in the shape of a triangle, in front of her face.

“Are you looking forward to your trip?”
And seeing Marc at the airport.
I want to add, but refrain.

“Umm . . .
yes and no,” she answers looking away, tilting her head side to side.

“And why’s that?”

“Umm, I look forward to seeing my parents . . . we’ll be celebrating my father’s 70
th
birthday while I’m there. I can’t wait to catch up with some friends who live there. I haven’t been back since Christmas so it will be great to see everyone again.”

“And what part aren’t you looking forward to?”

She pauses but only slightly.

“Umm . . . I’m not looking forward to . . . being away from you . . .
for two whole weeks. It’s going to feel like a lifetime, I just know it.”
Really?
As touched as I am and would love to revel in this awesome moment, I seize the day. My nerves can’t take it anymore.

“Caroline, look, I ove
rheard you talking on the phone . . . are you going there to see someone?” I snap. Her face whitens and she looks away. She fidgets with a pen that she picks up from her desk, flicking the cap off and on nervously. Finally, she looks at me.

“Am I going there
to
see him . . .
no
. . . will he be there . . .
yes
.”

“Who is he?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Believe me, I do.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Believe me, I
get c
omplicated.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Believe me, I have all the time in the world.”

“You really want me to believe you?”

“Believe me, I do.” I smirk. She giggles. Nervously, I wait. My left ankle, crossed over my right knee, shakes to and fro. Intentionally, I pick at a piece of lint on my pant leg, waiting for Caroline to speak.

“It’s over between Marc and me. Has been since that weekend in Chicago.”
That’s when I saw her at the airport . . . her name was called to the desk.

“Is he the one who gave you that gift?” I ask icily.

“Wow. You really were stalking me,” Caroline smirks. I’m not biting. Her ability to expertly deflect is not going to work on me this time.

“So, was it Marc?” She bites her thumb and shyly, nods her head.

“Tell me about him. If you say it was over then, why did he send you a piece of jewelry, I take it that was what was in the box?”

“Why do I feel like I am being interrogated?”

“I’m just trying to understand, Caroline. When a relationship is over, in my books, anyway, romantic gifts and pickups at the airport usually aren’t very common.”

“But attending thesis defenses and preparing questions to participate in ex-girlfriends’ educational degree requirements
is
in your books, then?” She snaps back. I smirk.

“Are you jealous of Amy?”

“Just trying to understand, Eric.” She copies my line.

“So, he lives in France?”

“Yes, he does. But he travels a lot, on business. Like you do.”

“How long were you two together?”

“Off and on . . . about four years.”

“So, you’ve ended it before and got back together, I take it?” Slowly, she nods her head.

              “Look, it’s over…for real this time. Believe me.” She gets up and makes her way around the desk and comes to sit in the chair next to me. She pulls the chair close enough so our knees are touching. Slowly, Caroline reaches in and places one hand on my cheek. Then, boldly, she pulls down on my neck so our faces meet, nose-to-nose, lips grazing lips. We stay there for a few warm moments. As I close my eyes, taking in her exquisite scent, she kisses me longingly and devouringly. When the kiss is over, I realize in that moment, that I have never been as intimate with anyone as I was with Caroline in that embrace. That kiss.

“Believe me,” she says as I’m getting up to leave, “it
is
over with Marc.”

As I walk out of the building and make my way back to work, I realize that something is amiss. I have this nagging feeling that something is just not right. Believe me, I know when someone is trying to hide something.
Like a secret.

16 “It’s My Life”

The alluring hostess eyes me and I can’t help but stare back at her. I give her the head to toe, gawking at her perfect body and pretty face. I can’t resist a beautiful-looking woman and this one standing four feet away from me definitely falls into that category. I’m jolted out of this trance by the sound of my iPhone pinging in my breast pocket. 
An email from Caroline, thousands of miles away.

From: Caroline Durand

Date: Sunday, June 24, 2012 2:07 AM

Subject: Hey Stranger

To: Eric Martin

Hi Eric,

Haven’t heard from you in 5 days. Hope you are well.
Caroline

Indeed, it has been five days since Caroline left for France and I have mustered every bit of strength and restraint in me not to contact her this past week. With the threat of
Monsieur Marc
on the horizon, I have retreated into as safe a place I can find within me. I’m falling hard for her and the last thing I need is to be hurt, especially now. With visions of her reuniting with her ex,
who doesn’t take ‘no’ very easily,
I’ve made myself scarce and have decided to watch and wait this one out. It’s not as though I don’t have anything else going on anyways.

I feel like my life, lately, has been teetering on a precipice. With the ink almost dry on the Wells and Fraser closure deal,
I’m starting to think about new directions my life could take far away from the corporate world, putting those jet-setting days behind me. About to pocket upwards of seventy million dollars in this deal, I’ll have what many people only dream about,
millions
of dollars, the youth to enjoy it and the ability to help others, if I choose. I think of those lottery commercials on television where they say something to the effect of imagine the possibilities and it hits me that I now can envision a different life for myself.

With the news of the deal embargoed for another few weeks and the transaction scheduled to close at the end of August, I’ve decided not to share the information with my family or friends, not even Caroline, until I have figured out what I’m going to do with my life. With the way things may be heading, who knows, there may be no Caroline at the end of August to share any of this news with anyways.

From: Eric Martin

Date: Saturday, June 23, 2012 8:13 PM

Subject: Things are well

To: Caroline Durand

Hi there;

Hope your trip has been relaxing and enjoyable…and relatively unre
mark
able.

Eric

P.S. What are you doing awake at 2:07A.M.?

I hit
Send
and glance at my watch. 8:08 P.M.. Lara and Rob should be here any minute. I look over at the restaurant entrance hoping to catch sight of Lara and instead, find the hostess, looking scrumptiously appetizing, staring at me. Wearing tight black leather pants and fitted black leather vest highlighting her striking dark Asian features, my eyes are glued to her. Maybe she’s Thai or Lao, I wonder, and right away remember a girl I went out with in my university days, Gabby was her name, who was Laotian. This hostess is every bit of this side of exotic and hot.
Ping.