HANNAH
Leaning my elbows on my desk, I stare at nothing, and gnaw at the end of my pencil. I should work, making progress with the Chloé plans before Brigitte calls me for the third time to ask when I will bring them the material. I try, but self-control is somehow not my friend today. My thoughts spin constantly around the weekend, and I think about how many things have changed over the course of two days. The previous period typographically wasn’t too versatile because not taking into account the short visit to the bathroom and kitchen, we practically didn’t even leave the bed. Jamie is unsatisfiable. It seems he can’t get enough of me. And I feel like a hormone-driven teenager. I’m not saner than him, not even by a tiny measure. It really seems like he wasn’t joking when he said that next week – actually this week – he wants to have the wedding. The idea seems pretty absurd, even with the Jamie Hailey kind of mind-set. How the hell can people organise a wedding in a few days? And then last night, between our two love-making sessions, he asked what I want: a big celebration, a lot of people, or a more intimate, family ceremony? I know exactly what he wants; it wasn’t even necessary for him to say it out loud. I know he hates masses of people, and most types of group activity where there are more than three of four people present. But I’m also sure that for the sake of our wedding, he would take anything. I slept on it, and in the morning it became completely clear that I don’t want a big to-do either. I just want to have those who are really important to me, and for whom I’m also important, and there aren’t too many of them. I want Gran, Bree, and Ian. Rachel is obviously off the list, and Rose won’t come to our wedding either, that’s for sure. He asked what I would say if we got married at home in his apartment, actually in the private roof garden of the house. The idea is phenomenal. I can imagine the precisely manicured rooftop garden with the wrought iron benches, the fountain in the middle, and the decorative trees. It’s intimate, and private, just like we want it. He said he can surely manage for us to use the garden for private purposes. So I agreed with the wedding at home. A childlike enthusiastic joy shone on Jamie’s face hearing my decision, which was worth a whole world. There will not be a big to do, but I honestly don’t even want it. I want him. I don’t need anything else. The big hurry with which he wants to follow through with it could be a bit scary if I didn’t know him so well. I know he’s been waiting for me for so long, and he cherished this plan for much longer than I have, that’s why I can understand his rush. Actually, why the hell should we wait any longer? I can’t bring to mind a single logical reason why we should put it off. Jamie already called his parents this morning, and I will fill Gran in on the details now. She will hit the floor, that’s for sure.
I turn my ring, smiling. The white paper lying in front of me is again full of Jamie’s profile, and not with designs of spring clothes, as it should be.
#
I have lunch with Bree, and report to her the sudden developments. First she almost drowns in her mineral water, but when she gets back to herself from the shock, she hugs me thoroughly and congratulates me. She’s visibly happy for us, and she fidgets on her chair so excitedly that I can’t help but laugh at her. She quickly determines there’s actually nothing to be surprised about, because the wedding was foreseeable, based on how Jamie loves me and how much he is into me. She starts immediately making plans about the ceremony and enthusiastically offers her help. I cool her a bit, telling her there’s not too much manageable stuff, because everything will happen in the most simple way, at home in the family circle. Jamie manages the registry with his usual effectiveness. Gran offered to ask the pastor of the congregation if he would like to lead the ceremony for such a close date. If everyone who we expect is there, then we’ll be in total seven, so we will also be able to find a dinner home delivery company with such short notice. I need to take care of some flowers, to have a bit of ceremonial mood, and I will need a wedding dress. This last one can’t be too big of a problem. I’m sure I can find something in storage. I’m not insisting at all on a white gown variation. It would be ridiculous to appear in the living room in something like this. Some kind of nice, tasteful evening dress will be fine. We agree that Bree will help me choose the right dress tomorrow, and in this way she can still be some kind of help for me in the wedding preparations.
#
I’m completely over the moon. I almost can’t stand it; I’m constantly peeking at my watch because I know Jamie will be here for me any minute. We haven’t seen each other the whole day, and all of my pores, each and every one of my nerve cells waits, prickling, for us to be together again. I wasn’t too productive today at work, Jamie and longing for him occupied my thoughts too much, holding my senses in the state of constant anticipation. I think I haven’t ever been so unmotivated when it comes to design or business at all. In my defence, I’m the victim of the most effective and sensual attention avoiding operation of the world.
The good news is that the splitting of the company is going without incident and since neither of us are obstructing, the process will end soon with a non-contentious agreement. I haven’t met Rachel since then, and we haven’t even talked to each other. Sven came over to work on Bond Street with me, and Rach hired someone in his place. The situation is still painful for me, and I think that the thorn – our destroyed friendship – will stay in me forever. But I still don’t know how I could save our relationship without rejecting Jamie and the love that bonds me to him. Besides, I can hardly reiterate enough to myself that even if I could have done it anyway it wouldn’t have solved the problem of Rachel’s one-sided attraction.
Vince sent me the photo shoot material. The pictures turned out sensational, exactly as I expected. That guy really knows what he is doing. It’s too bad that his assistant is such a big asshole. This, unfortunately, has an unpleasant effect on our chances for future cooperation. I don’t think it would be a good idea to let him be in the same place as Jamie again.
Just as I’m packing my stuff – trying to follow the principle of a neat desk, with limited success – the office door opens and Jamie pokes his head in. My pulse jumps to the sky just at the sight of him, and when I let myself into his arms and he presses me tightly to himself, I feel that his heart is beating exactly as mine. We kiss, entwining in each other. This whole thing is so intense, so real, that every single time I’m surprised over and over again about the two of us. Who would have thought that it would be he and I? He strokes me and fondles me; he’s everywhere at the same time, as if he had hundreds of hands. He moves back until he crashes into the desk and sits, pulling me into his lap. The thought that the door is not locked runs through my mind, so they can practically anytime come in on us, but that I could separate from him even for a short time I don’t have enough strength, I rather cuddle up and … oh my god! … I can hardly believe that he’s in a totally aroused state again. I pull myself back a bit, catching my breath, and say, grinning:
“You’re unsatisfiable. I thought that after last night, and this morning, you wouldn't be thinking of it for a while.”
“What do you mean not thinking of it?” – He looks at me with furrowed eyebrows? – “You seriously think I have been able to think about anything else except that?”
Should I admit now that I haven’t either? I’m not so cool yet, so I rather answer:
“Well, it crossed my mind too, a few times. Pretty often.” – I add, shrug my shoulder while my fingers run through his hair with pleasure.
Jamie examines my face with squinted eyes, and now I know him well enough to know that he’s trying to read from my facial expression and gestures how seriously I mean what I said. He’s not fooling around; he’s always straight and honest. I have no idea why I do it. It must be some kind of routine. An automatic self defence mechanism for people not to open up totally and not be vulnerable. In the end, he sighs, and buries his face feverishly into my neck. The gentle gesture finally melts my inhibitions.
“I know it hasn’t been long, but I still missed you so much.” – I whisper. – “I almost didn’t make progress with work, because you were the only one constantly running through my mind. The outlook is not so good for the future of Rebellious.” – I smile playfully while he pampers my neck and chin constantly with wet kisses.
“But an even better outlook for me” – he murmurs and takes my face between his hands. – “I’m always thinking about you too, and I long for you constantly. Now, when I know what it’s like to make love to you, I would most of all like to not do anything else. I want to touch you.”
“Here?” – I whisper, and instinctively look towards the door to see if anyone is watching us.
“Here. Always and everywhere. You know what I would like most of all like to do?” – He asks between two kisses, and his face is dead serious.
Considering his question and the possible answers, the muscles in my lower stomach tighten voluptuously. My groin pulses to let me know how much it longs for his touch. There, and everywhere.
“I would like to take you somewhere where it’s just the two of us.”
“Just you and me?”
“Just you and me. Far away from here.”
“Maybe … Scotland?” – I breathe fantasising, completely lost in those burning eyes, indeed expressing emotions.
“Wherever you want” – he answers, and a small mischievous smile appears on the corner of his mouth. – “To a small house with a huge bed. I would most of all like to not let you leave from there anymore.”
At that, I start to giggle loudly. Jamie and I alone, closed from the outside world, in a lonely house, in which there’s no furniture besides a huge bed. Well, I could imagine an even worse alternative.
“Like some kind of sex slave?” – I ask, head tilted to the side, acting reproachfulness.
“Something like that” – he surrenders, laughing. – “I would pamper you with the most delicious food and drink and then of course, in all the other ways” – he answers, and slides over my butt sensually.
I laugh out loud as I shake my head doubtfully.
“I don’t think it’s a really good idea, Mr Hailey. In a half year I would be three times the size I am now, and then you wouldn’t be attracted to me, and you would get bored with me” – I say with pouty lips.
“That’s impossible” – he answers and starts tickling my side, making me scream out and desperately try to free myself from his lap.
Of course, without success, because the more I fidget, the more tightly he pulls me to him. Then the door opens, and Sven peeks in. I snap my head over, embarrassed, and make a vain attempt at putting on the face of a responsible businesswoman. It's a vain effort, sitting in Jamie’s lap, while his hard shaft presses against my thighs. He leans to my ear and whispers:
“The more of you the better, hon.”
The laughter bursts out from me. So much for the image of a responsible businesswoman.
#
“I’ll go for three bouquets of white lilies” – I bargain with the salesperson in my favourite flower shop on my way home. – “No. I’ll do two of the white, and one of those pale pink.”
“Oh, they are wonderful” – the salesperson nods and makes a note of my order.
I look towards Jamie, who watches me quietly, leaning on the doorjamb, and just smiles softly. On our way home, I mentioned we should pop into the flower shop to order some decorations for Saturday. When I asked him what his favourite flower is, he looked at me like I’m some kind of alien. I thoroughly embarrassed my poor little one. He was sweet as he stuttered something about it being the rose, but it was obviously an alibi answer, because the rose is the only flower on earth that everyone can recognise. So I’m pretty sure I found Jamie Hailey’s single weak point. Flower varieties. But I know him, it won’t be like this for long, because he will read Wikipedia, and the detailed information on the topic will immediately be in his head. In any case, we agreed that he will let me choose, so now we are here in the flower shop. I order, and he stares at my butt.
“So we will deliver the bouquets by 10 in the morning, if it’s acceptable for you” – the salesperson says.
“Great. But please add one more bouquet of red roses” – I chew on the edge of my mouth thoughtfully as my gaze settles on a huge basket of beautiful roses. – “And we would like to have quite a few rose petals. To adorn the table.”
“Just petals?”
“Yes. Is it possible?”
“It’s not a problem. How much?”
“Ehhh …”
“We usually measure them in ounces.”
How many ounces do I need to decorate the table and maybe sprinkle a few on the floor as is the tradition in the church? Shit! There are obviously too many questions.
“Well I don’t know” – I flash an SOS gaze at Jamie, but this time he’s not rushing to my aid. Seeing his dreamy facial expression, and his opening lips, I have a feeling that there’s something totally different on his mind than the rose petals. – “200 or 300 of them?” – I say uncertainly, glancing at the salesperson who looks at me with wrinkled forehead and then writes some note on the paper. I feel the warmth of Jamie’s palm on my waist, then his lips, gentle as a breath, on my earlobe.
“Everything’s alright?’ –He asks, purring into my ear.
“Oh, yes” – I answer with a deep sigh. His closeness almost knocks me off my feet this time, as usual.
Jamie asks for the business card of the shop, puts it in his pocket, and lead me out of the shop.
#
I’m getting used to the gigantic kitchen in Jamie’s apartment. It’s about time because a few days from now I’ll live here too. After the flower shop, we also pick up something for dinner at the Sushi Take Away Buffet on the corner, so the cooking won’t be too big a deal. Jamie’s stuck to me from behind and kisses my neck while I unpack the food. It’s almost impossible for me to concentrate on anything when he does this. And he’s constantly doing it.
“I’ll meet Bree tomorrow evening” – I interrupt, giggling, because his sexy two day stubble terribly tickles my neck.
“Ladies’ night?” – He asks with some disappointment in his voice.
“Not exactly. Work. Since I’m going to be married soon, I will need a wedding dress, and Bree is helping me pick one” – I say, teasing.
Jamie straightens up, and some kind of half hard swear leaves his mouth. I turn around and look at him, surprised.
“Something wrong?”
“Nothing, I just forgot something” – he scratches his forehead.
“Is it important?” – I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.
“Maybe” – he answers mysteriously, plants a kiss on my mouth, then pulls me away from him. – “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
He runs towards the bedroom, and I just stare after him, smiling. It’s not an often occurrence that Jamie forgets something. Maybe I have this attention distracting effect on him? I hope so!
I hear the opening of a wardrobe door, and then after a few some fumbling noises hits my ears. He comes back soon, hugs my waist with a wild grin, and whirls me around him. Then it can’t be too dangerous. – I think, relieved.
“I think you should go into the bedroom” – he says in a playful tone, and I blink up at him with my head tilted to the side.
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
“Before the sushi?”
“Definitely before it” – he nods with conviction, and he’s already pushing me out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.
“Ok, you're the boss” – I surrender, laughing, and start off in the indicated direction. I look back, but Jamie’s not following me. He's leaning on the kitchen counter, staring at me with his arms crossed.
Stepping into the bedroom, I target immediately the snow white rectangular box on the bed. A pretty big, terribly elegant box, tied with an artistic red ribbon. Oh my!! They usually wrap precious dresses in this way. My heart stops for a second. I think wrongly, that Jamie bought me a dress as a present, right? Dress. For me! It will be terribly awkward if I don’t like it. And even more awkward if he wants to me to wear it too. I shudder. The designer in me will die a heroic death, but I will still do it for him. I will wear it, no matter what – I decide bravely, and then step next to the bed. I look around the room uncertainly, but the situation is obvious. It can only be about the present box. I take a deep sigh, and holding the air inside, very carefully pull the red bow. The silk obediently unfurls and falls to the quilt. I carefully lift up the top of the box and with half-closed eyes cautiously peek into it. It’s green. More precisely, light green. I lift the top of the box up a bit more. Chiffon. A gentle, easy fabric. With a draping neckline. Oh gosh! Exactly like … I snap off the top and throw it on the bed. I can hardly believe my eyes. I stare at the dress with open mouth. It’s not exactly like it, but it is exactly that. This is my own creation. The pale green chiffon dress: my absolute favourite from the Miss gala. I catch my breath in my shock, and quickly yank it out of the box. Holding it up in front of me, I step before the mirror and slide my fingers over the silky soft fabric with pleasure. It’s still beautiful. And yes, I’m sure it will fit well. I’m slowly getting over the initial shock when the gears start turning in my brain. How did he do it? Because all of our dresses were donated to the charity auction after the gala. The only logical explanation is he offered the most for it. He bought it for me because he knew how much this piece grew on me. Oh, Jamie! It crosses my mind that I will slip into it and hold a private fashion show for him, but then I quickly throw out the idea. I plan something totally different, something very special with this dress. It will be my wedding dress. I put it carefully on the bed, and I almost fly back into the kitchen directly into his arms. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and pour greedily giddy kisses all over his face. He allows it. He grabs my waist and just laughs. I repeat at least one hundred times thank you for the wonderful surprise and how crazily I love him. He nuzzles his face into my hair and breaths in my smell for a long time.
“Then you like it?”
“Really really. I never even thought I would see this dress again. It was so attentive of you. Thank you.
“You’re welcome Honey.”
“I just don’t understand how you managed it” – I look at him wonderingly, with eyes squinted.
“It’s simple” – he shrugs his shoulder. – “I bought it at the auction.”
I wrinkle my forehead, not comprehending. I remember exactly on that evening full of bad memories when Rachel acted in such a scandalous way Jamie and I left the party well before the auction started.
“Ok, but … that night we took off from the gala much earlier. You know exactly too why” – I blink at him. He nods and his mouth widens to a small playful smile. Well yeah. It’s a fact that that night it wasn’t just sucky things that happened. There was obviously the mind-blowing sex at my apartment when we could hardly make it to the door and Jamie almost squeezed me up against the wall in the stairwell with his arousal. After, the whole amazing night in his arms, and then the next morning when I moved out. Then the thing between the two of us became official. In sum: plenty of things happened then. How could he have organised this thing with the dress at all? – “How did you have an opportunity to bid if you weren’t there?”
He smiles conspiratorially, and I snuggle up to him like a little kitten and I hope that the torture will bring out the result and he will confess. The method works. He sighs deeply and throwing his head back, says:
“Your friend helped.”
“Brigitte?” – I look at him, surprised, although I don’t even know why I am.
“She bid in my name.”
“Oh” – the recognition bursts out from me while I start to gnaw at my nails pensively. Jamie, seeing my embarrassment, continues the explanation.
“I knew that you loved this dress, and I wanted it to be yours. I wanted to gift it to you, but your theatrical march out turned my plans upside down.”
I stare at him with wide eyes and bury my face into my palms in my shame. Jamie pulls me back gently, places his arm over my shoulder, and starts to rock me.
“I called Bree from the stairs of the conference centre to ask her to bid in my name for the dress. More accurately, to buy the dress.”
“To buy it? Regardless of how high the bid would go?”
“I wanted it to be yours” – he says firmly.
“And all this after I sent you away rudely and escaped into the toilet?” – I ask with a dying voice, murmuring into his chest.
The painful recognition drops onto me again how selfishly and unjustly I behaved with him. Right after I growled at him and chased him away from me, he takes his phone and arranges such an unimaginable, generous gift for me. While he did that, he couldn’t have known I would go after him, I would apologise to him at all, and I would want something more serious between the two of us. He’s so selfless and generous. He has a good heart, and … contradicts every stupid Asperger’s diagnosis. He claims that I have this effect on him. Gosh darn it! I don’t even deserve the love of such an amazing man. How lucky I am!
“I love you, Honey” – he murmurs, sighing into my hair. – “I think you still don’t understand how much.
I press up against his mouth passionately, kiss him as much as I can, and think to myself that maybe he’s right: maybe I really don’t understand.
#
We’re just slowly getting to the sushi, Jamie just can’t take his hands and mouth off of me, and I truly hope that it will stay like this for so long. We’re sitting at the table snuggled up together and fooling around childishly feed each other. I’m hopeless with the chopsticks. I try over and over again, hoping this time I can make it, but after a while the hunger always wins and the spasm in my fingers convinces me to take out a fork from the drawer. Jamie explains to me, laughing, how to do it, but in vain. Of course he’s a professional, even in this. We are through around half of it when the doorbell rings. We look at each other, surprised, and neither of us move for a while.
“Are you expecting someone?” – I ask finally, when the bell rings a second time.
Jamie shakes his head, wrinkling his forehead, and grudgingly pulls my knee off his thigh.
“I’ll check” – he says, and pressing a kiss onto my mouth, letting out a resentful groan, starts off to the door.
Now, since I don’t have an audience, I practice a bit with the chopsticks. After some effort, I can finally lift up a big maki, and just navigate with it towards my mouth when a familiar voice hits my ear fr