Truth

Derek continued, “I just wish you could have met Mr. Rawlings. Roger said he doesn’t visit often.”

“How was his speech?”

“Excellent. What surprised me was how much he knew about my projects. The ones I’m currently working on. He asked specific questions. I had this strange feeling I was being quizzed.”

Sophia grinned, “Well if you were, my guess is you responded appropriately and received an A.”

“I don’t know. I hope you’re right.”

“Hilary sure likes to gossip.” Sophia said, stifling a yawn.

“Yes, I noticed. She was in seventh heaven with Mr. Rawlings’ ex-wife.”

“I think she was disappointed the ex-Mrs. Rawlings didn’t sit at our table. However, I think that poor woman is lucky. Hilary would’ve eaten her alive with her relentless questions.”

Derek replied, “Well, I only said hello to Ms. Nichols, but she seemed nice enough.”

Sophia sighed, leaning into her husband’s arm. “I missed so much. According to Hilary, the whole thing will be all over the gossip pages, probably before we’re home. I’m usually not into that kind of thing, but I may make an exception.”

Derek lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders. Sophia again lowered her head to soft material of his tuxedo. His words rang clear and true, “I think people deserve privacy, no matter who they are...”

Nodding in agreement, his voice faded away as she closed her eyes. Her mind filled with thoughts of the moving art exhibit. She hadn’t had the chance to mention it to Derek. The gentle vibration of the car soothed her. Sophia decided she didn’t have the energy to discuss it now. It could wait until morning.

The next thing Sophia knew, Derek was gently shaking her. His soft voice slowly infiltrated her dreams, “Hey, sleepy head, we’re home.” Her eyes fluttered; she saw her husband’s sweet smile.

The Shedis-tics’ driver opened the door and cool night air filled the limousine’s cabin. Derek thanked the kind man, and they made their way up the walk to their condominium.

At such an early hour the street was quiet and a velvety dark sky concealed the stars above. Derek leaned down to his wife’s ear. With her hair pinned back he had easy access. In a deep sexual voice he whispered, “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Her gray eyes sparkled as she looked up to his loving expression. “Yes, but I like hearing it.”

Stepping into the foyer of their new home, Derek turned from the closed door and traced his finger from Sophia’s ear to the apex of her plunging neckline. The light touch sent chills throughout her body. Suddenly sleep didn’t seem important. She was very glad she’d napped. With his hands caressing the gathered waist of her evening gown, his lips lingered near her ear and her breath quickened.

“I was wondering,” his words contacted her skin in hot bursts of air, “if perhaps -- you need – help -- getting out -- of this -- amazing dress?”

Sophia nodded as the silk chiffon gown molded against his black tuxedo. Despite the layers of material she could feel his intention against her hip. “I do,” she whispered.

Once within the confines of their new bedroom, the day’s disappointments and satisfactions melted away. Derek no longer remembered the frustration of sitting alone as everyone else sat in pairs. Sophia forgot the stress of waiting for a mystery buyer who never arrived. Derek’s excitement at speaking to Mr. Rawlings faded. Sophia’s exhilaration at the new amazing offer waned. Their joy came in each other, the ecstasy of pleasing and being pleased.

When they finally settled into the soft satin sheets and gave into sleep, calm contentment relaxed them. They both glowed with the serenity associated with compete trust in the person by your side.

*****

Text message sent: May 25: 01:17 AM – To: Anthony Rawlings

MS NICHOLS JUST EXITED GRAY MERCEDES. SHE SAFELY ENTERED HER BUILDING.

Claire didn’t need to knock on Harry’s door. When she turned the corner in the hall, she saw him leaning against the jam in his open doorway. She sighed in relief at the sight of him; his casual appearance made her cheeks rise. She saw his customary faded jeans and black t-shirt had replaced the tailored tuxedo from earlier. His blonde hair now lay in waves, unrestrained by the earlier gel.

Prior to entering the building Claire gave Harry the opportunity to avoid this meeting. She sent him a text message. After all, it was almost one thirty in the morning. It said: MINUTES AWAY. DO YOU STILL WANT ME TO COME BY?

His short reply appeared almost immediately, YES.

It wasn’t possible to read emotion or attitude in a text message. Nevertheless, as Claire neared and her eyes met Harry’s, his unhappiness loomed omnipresent, surrounding them in a cloud of despondency. His hardened expression cooled her progress, almost stopping Claire in her tracks. Instead of summer skies, Claire saw ice in his light blue eyes. She searched for miniscule signs of acceptance. Instead she found frost. His lips pressed together in tight straight line.

As her glistening high heels propelled toward him, the scent of whisky filled her lungs.

“Well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball?” he asked cynically.

He gestured for Claire to enter. Initially she planned on kissing him hello. Even with his bare feet and her shoes, he stood several inches taller. In order to contact his lips or cheek she’d need to stand on her tip-toes, or he’d need to bend. The furrowing of his brow, as she neared, weakened her resolve. Claire looked pleadingly into his cold eyes, as she passed, entering his foyer.