TWENTY-EIGHT
Claire bid Mr. Stevens good night, ready to leave.
"There's no way I'm letting you leave at this hour while we have enough rooms for everyone in this house," Mr. Stevens said.
"See? I told you he won't agree," Bruno whispered in her ear.
"Now I understand where your grandsons have got this obstinacy from. I think it's strictly genetic," Claire said with a smile. The two gentlemen laughed delightfully. "Okay, I guess I don't have a choice." She chose to stay.
The rest of the evening went uneventfully, and by the time Claire had retired to her respective room, Ryan wasn't home yet. She got up abruptly, feeling upset, and stood up by the large window. It had the perfect view of anyone who went in and out of the mansion.
Claire hadn't any clue on what upset her more. Was it the fact that he wasn't home yet? Or that he'd left with Doris?
Or maybe both?
She kept pacing hence and forth inside that huge Victorian-style bedroom, that according to Bruno, it used to be their mother's.
For a moment Claire decided to forget about Ryan and get some sleep. But it was more of a fool's errand as tossing and rolling in bed became her bedtime story. Damn it! She was going insane, hence she made a choice to call Gena instead, to let it all out.
"Okay, what did he do to you this time?" Gena urged.
"That jerk said it's over, can you believe it?" Claire lamented, tears brimming in her eyes. "He really enjoys messing with me, Gena! How could he do this when the whole Doris story is over now? And I'm at his house going nuts while he's away with her."
"Oh, sweetie, and you're going to let him mess with you? I thought you were bolder than that," Gena replied after a short silence.
"And what am I supposed to do, huh? Go on and beg him to continue harassing me?" Claire was still striding around, a fist on her waist.
Gena laughed. "You mean the sweet harassment? Come on, Claire! Just admit it that you love his mysterious ways of getting into you. He drives you crazy, my friend."
"Oh, I don't know, Gena!" Claire exhaled, exasperated. "I don't even know what I want anymore." She pursed her lips, highly conflicted.
"Well, I think I do. You just need a little push, and I hereby push you to go and talk to him. No you don't even need to talk, just attack him!" Gena said.
"Attack him?" Claire smiled at last and found another stop near the window. "I don't want to be away from him, Gena. It drives me insane knowing he's no longer with me. What should I do, huh?"
They talked a little more, without any definite solution to the problem. But at least Claire was able to laugh. Sleeping became more difficult than before. This strange urge to be next to Ryan was something she failed to understand.
It was irrepressible.
"I can't take this," she breathed and bolted out of bed.
Slipping her feet into comfy slippers, Claire pushed her way through the silent hallway like a thief, without any idea on whether Ryan was back or not. It was probably midnight already, she thought. She still remembered where Ryan's bedroom was as she headed there straightaway.
It was closed, as expected, and she stood outside the door as though conflicted over her next decision. It was stupid, and she had gathered that much, but she was still there. It was something she couldn't control, and she wondered what a crazy woman she'd turned out to be.
"What are you doing?" A voice startled her, and she nearly jumped.
Ryan! She comprehended right away.
She whirled around to face him. "Um, nothing, I just got lost," she answered.
Sleazy move.
"You're lost?" Ryan sauntered closer, frowning.
"Yes, that's what I just said." Claire held her breath, surprised that he had been out up to this time.
With Doris? Her heart tightened at the possibility.
"Okay, let's pretend I believe you," Ryan muttered lazily, and Claire discerned the ruffled state he was in, barely holding his full equilibrium.
Shirt half-buttoned, hair a bit ruffled, and eyes darker.
"You were drinking?" Claire asked reproachfully.
Ryan neared the door, only a step from her. "I was. Why? Were you waiting for me?" He smirked.
"Of course not! Why would I wait for you? And you're drunk," Claire retorted. "Is that what you were doing with Doris all this time?"
A faint smile escaped Ryan's lips, making her frown. He sighed heavily before saying, "I can't believe you still love whining." His gaze was cajoling.
"I'm not whining, Ryan. I'm only asking," Claire snapped.
Why was she so concerned about him despite everything? She hated this.
"Why should I answer your question, Claire? Are you my wife?" Ryan asked, chuckling.
"Bastard," Claire murmured under her breath, anger surging back into her system.
Briskly, Ryan seized her shoulders, holding her closer. "I left you alone but you're still lurking around. What do you want from me, Claire?" His voice was laced with menace, his eyes raw.
Claire could feel her heart beating fast, but she didn't budge.
"I want to torture you the same way you're torturing me! I want you to feel exactly what you're making me feel! In that case, I'll make sure you don't get to feel at peace after twisting my life around, Ryan Stevens. You don't deserve it," she said, looking him straight in the eyes.
"What?"
"You heard me. I won't leave you alone, Ryan."
Ryan's eyes faltered as he slowly released her. Why was he bothered about this? He wanted her far, but seeing her all he needed was to hold her close, kiss her, hug her, and just sleep by her side—even without getting inside her pretty thong.
"Go to your room and sleep, Claire. It's late." He reached for the door knob, his steps unstable.
He really didn't want her anymore. Claire felt a sharp pain at the thought, her eyes getting watery as he pushed the door to draw himself in.
She sucked in an audible breath, ready to go back to her room and find that sleep, when she suddenly heard him stumbling onto something.
"Ryan!" She didn't think twice running toward him. "Fuck, you're definitely drunk! How did you even get here?" She was holding him, his arms around her shoulders, and hers around his waist.
"I'm not drunk," Ryan hissed.
"Yeah, right. That's what all the drunkards say," she quipped while shutting the door behind them. "Let's get you to bed." She tried to scoot him toward the wooden four-poster bed.
But he didn't want to move. Instead, he took her in his arms, hugging her from behind, longingly.
"Claire," he uttered, his voice hoarse. She stilled in his brace. "Just for tonight, let's sleep together."
"Sleep together?" Claire murmured, her skin shuddered.
"Hmm," Ryan replied, breathing into her hair.
"And then what?" Claire asked gently, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. "You'll wake up tomorrow and ask me to get lost, is that it? Or have you forgotten what you told me yesterday?" She loved being this closer to him.
She still needed to feel him every single day. How stupid was she going to get? She could no longer understand.
"I don't know." Ryan sighed, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Can't we just forget it for one night? I won't even fuck you, I swear. I just want to feel your warmth."
Ditto. Claire had no doubt of her desire.
"You're really weird, Ryan." She broke out from his embrace to take a good look at him. "Very weird," she breathed, eyes bored deeply into his tired brown ones, beautifully lit by the moonlight through the window.
"Only you know that much, Claire. You're like the light at the end of my tunnel," Ryan muttered, making her eyes shimmer when he brushed the back of his hand against her cheek.
The heat rose in her, and her breath hitched.
"What do I really do with you?" she asked, but more to herself than to him.
She wanted him—she knew she couldn't avoid him, and it was even useless trying to. Even at this moment she wasn't ready to say no.
"Just stay with me, please," Ryan entreated.
"Okay, I'll sleep with you," Claire muttered, accepting her fate.
In a few minutes Claire was helping him get settled inside. He was very tipsy, now that she'd seen him walking to the bedroom, and even stumbled by the couch.
"Aren't you taking your clothes off?" she asked.
"If I do, I'll end up between your legs. And I hate that you're wearing someone else's pajamas," he uttered, keeping his drunk talk. Claire giggled. "Oh, so I'm a clown now?" He was on the bed, seated, while taking off his shoes with difficulty.
Claire knelt down to help him. "Don't be such a baby now. Take off the jeans at least; and you look dashing on them by the way." She eyed him.
"Oh, do I?" He beamed, his eyes barely holding up.
"Yes, you do."
"But you only had eyes for Bruno earlier," he complained like a child, stroking her hair.
Claire smirked. "Is that so? Maybe it's because you're such a jerk who left a defenseless woman alone in the middle of the road." He was done with the shoes.
Ryan frowned remorsefully. "No, Claire . . . I didn't . . . mean to—"
"Sleep, Ryan, you're tired," Claire said as she rose up. She didn't want to discuss this topic—not with him so drunk. "Lie down." She helped him into bed, placing a pillow behind his head.
"I'm sorry," Ryan breathed.
Claire didn't know how to take that apology, for it was ambiguous. Why was he sorry? For dumping her? Or for some kind of regret upon tossing her aside? She wished he could clarify, but his eyes were already shut.
"You really know how to drive me nuts," she muttered, watching him with a big sigh. "And I think I'm falling for you like a fool." She sat beside him for a very good while, doing nothing but staring at him, listening to his sound breath.
Slowly she leaned over and placed her lips on his, closing her eyes at the feeling.
Ryan's eyes opened gently, and Claire felt the chill when he suddenly gripped her waist, pulling her closer. He wasn't sleeping? She screamed inwardly, watching him struggling to stay awake.
"I promised I won't fuck you, Claire, so don't provoke me," Ryan croaked.
"Mmm," Claire hummed, bobbing her head.
"Good. Now let's sleep," said Ryan and in a minute he was holding her tight as he once again shut his eyes.
At some point, in the middle of the night, Claire made an attempt to get up so as to return to her room, but Ryan kept her body too close and too tight to allow her to leave. She decided to give up by holding him back and enjoyed his warm body blanketing her against the night breeze.
She slept in his room until five in the morning. Ryan was still asleep but she had to return to her own room. A warm smile escaped her while fixing the covers up to his neck. Sleeping Ryan was more like an innocent baby boy. She clambered off the bed and rushed back to her room.
The following morning during breakfast Claire noticed that Ryan wasn't present. She decided to subtly make an inquiry about his absence, and the answer didn't come as good as she was somehow anticipating.
"I think he went out about a quarter of an hour ago," Mr. Stevens replied, his eyes indulging in a huge newspaper.
"Maybe he went to see Doris," said Bruno. "We all know how she left last night."
"Oh, is that so?" Claire prompted, and it was like a piercing to the heart.
After breakfast Claire was standing near the front window, arms folded across her chest, leaning onto the window frame. What business was Ryan having with Doris to leave so early in the morning? It really perturbed her.
"Are you enjoying the flowers?" Mr. Stevens queried with a smile.
Startled, Claire gazed up at him. Her smile appeared as she answered, "Yes. It's beautiful out there."
"It is." He sighed deeply, seemingly mindful over something serious. "So then, why do you look so sad?"
"Sad? I'm not sad," Claire replied weakly.
"Oh, Claire, I may be an old man, but that's precisely why I've lived long enough to understand the meaning behind people's words, looks, and even smiles." He grinned at her.
"Grandfather, what are you trying to say now?" Claire laughed briefly.
"Care to take a little walk?" Mr. Stevens asked suggestively.
"Of course," Claire agreed wholeheartedly.
They were heading towards the garden as he said, "I know my two grandsons very well. And from that, I'm very much aware that Bruno cannot be the one to make you sad; he's too loving to cause anyone a heartache, especially those he cares about." He stared at her sideways, in a serious manner. "So is it Ryan?" he finally asked.
"Huh?" Claire gasped in shock.
Laughing, Mr. Stevens said, "When we talked on the phone the last time, I wondered what you and Ryan were doing together at that time of day. But it's not important. What's important is how he looks at you, and the way you look at him, Claire."
Oh boy! Was she busted? They took a halt, a cool morning air refreshing their bodies. The sun was reluctantly piercing through the thick clouds.
"I . . . I don't know how to deal with him, Grandfather." Claire decided to come clean eventually, unable to hide a thing from him. "I'm not even sure what I feel for him. And with how complicated he is, I'm afraid it's useless to even try." She was exasperated.
"I understand," he said. "Ryan is like a cactus. He doesn't allow anyone to touch him, but it doesn't mean it's impossible to do it. He is a good boy. You just need to be a little patient with him."
"But what if he doesn't let me?" she asked, sounding like a little girl.
"You won't know unless you try, Claire. Don't give up on him yet, I am begging you," Mr. Stevens pleaded like a father begging on behalf of his impudent son. "He will come around, I assure you, and I can feel that only you can make him."
What the hell was going on? Why did he sound as though there was something dark about Ryan's past that made him into the jerk he was right now? Claire was bemused.
"Um, I can't promise anything," she said truthfully. "Sometimes things don't happen just because we want them to. And what if I'm not as patient as you think I can be?"
Mr. Stevens smiled tenderly at her. "Then I'll assume it wasn't meant to be. And you are right; it's not an obligation, Claire. God, I don't even know what I was thinking asking you such a thing. Forgive this desperate old man if you can," he said, and it was painful for Claire to see him like that.
In the end she had no response to any of his pleas. She got herself ready to go back to the city. She had no intention of waiting for Ryan whatsoever, and only focused her mind on the grand presentation tomorrow at work, which again, had to involve him in the picture.