Part 14 (2/2)
Shayla saw that she was pus.h.i.+ng Lorraine right up to the edge of what she would allow, but what she really wanted was to push the whole company over the edge to a new place; a better place.
”He will make a perfect husband and father,” the Queen told Shayla over a pre-dinner gla.s.s of wine. Michael was due to arrive at any moment to join them at the Palace.
”Please, mother, I'm not up to that,” Shayla snapped.
”Okay, I'm only saying,” the Queen said, throwing her hands in the air.
”You're right, though.” she said, resigned as she looked out the window. ”He would make an excellent father.”
”How come you never remarried?” Shayla asked, turning back to her mother.
”I just never found the time,” she said with a forced smile.
Shayla was about to ask more, but a knock on the door interrupted them.
”Michael Wilson is here,” Gerald said, announcing their guest in a formal manner, even though he had become more like family over the last few months. Gerald stepped out of the way, allowing Michael to walk past. He went straight to Shayla, kissing her on the lips before presenting the Queen with a perfectly wrapped platter of desserts that looked like it came from a bakery.
”Oh my! They are decorated with my crest,” the Queen said, delightfully surprised. ”Absolutely gorgeous. You are too much!”
”I baked them especially for you,” Michael said as he kissed the Queen once on each cheek. Her mother clearly loved the attention, and Shayla felt as if he were courting her mother as much as her.
”You shouldn't have, but thank you. We shall have them for dessert,” she said, setting the gift aside. ”Let's dine, shall we?” the Queen said as she led them to her private dining suite.
Dinner was pleasant. Shayla noticed that she and her mother got along far better when Michael was present. Shayla couldn't deny his calming influence on her life. He was easy going. He understood when Shayla needed solitude, but was always available when she wanted company. He was attractive, faithful and respectful, thoughtful and sweet. How could she complain? As the evening wound down and they walked to their car hand-in-hand, Shayla made her decision.
”I'm taking you out tomorrow night, so dress up,” she said before they went to sleep that night.
”I can't believe I can really see you,” Shayla said, looking at Nathaniel who stood in a fog. She tried to touch him, but he was just out of reach.
”Take my hand,” she said, stretching it as far as she could. Each step she took toward his direction made him a step farther away. ”Don't go!” she said, as an anxious feeling grew.
He didn't answer, but his face was pained. He looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't. As he reached toward her, she woke up.
--- When she went to work the next morning, she was even more certain it was time to move on and marry a man who was physically with her and whom her mother accepted. It was easier and practical. And she was starting to feel, in her heart, that Nathaniel was never coming back. While she would never admit this to her mother, it was true.
”Please make a reservation at Restaurant Nora for two for this evening at 7:30,” she said to her a.s.sistant who nodded agreeably.
As she dressed that evening, her confidence from the prior night faded. She had a new dress purchased that afternoon, black and short, cut above the knee, with a neckline plunging just enough to be s.e.xy and tasteful. She wore shorter heals so she wouldn't tower over Michael. It was as though looking her best would make her feel her best.
”You look stunning!” he said, when he picked her up.
”Thank you,” she said, smiling. ”You look very handsome, too,” she said, and it was true. Even as his hairline slowly crawled toward his crown, he kept it short, which looked tidy and attractive.
After they checked in at the restaurant, she ordered a bottle of wine, and grew nervous. She told herself that nervousness was normal when proposing. She reminded herself that this was what she came here to do and that he was wonderful and would make a great husband and companion. There was no doubt that he satisfied the qualifications to be an excellent husband.
The wine arrived and they each sipped. ”Michael, I think we should marry,” she said shyly but abruptly, with unceremonious simplicity.
”Yes,” he said, smiling broadly, as he tenderly took her hand and kissed it vigorously across the table. ”I have been hoping you would ask me since the day we met. I love you so much,” he said, pa.s.sionately. ”I would be honored to be your husband.” He had no idea of the volatile ambivalence that suddenly flooded her veins.
”I... love you too,” she said, feeling the words slip unnaturally across her tongue as she stared at her fiancee.
”Let's wait before announcing anything, okay?” she said. This was not part of her planned proposal, but it had come out and felt right.
”Okay,” he said, looking a little unsure. ”Is there a reason?”
”Lorraine and I are negotiating some company issues and I want to make sure that everything is ironed out with her before facing the media frenzy that our engagement will undoubtedly bring.”
”Sure, my love. Anything you want. We have our whole lives to be together,” he said, taking her hand.
As they made love that night, Shayla recoiled inside as Michael tenderly stroked her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, before reaching his lips to her nipple, flicking his tongue quickly on the tip before nibbling it softly. She tried, unsuccessfully, to give herself wholly to Michael, not realizing just how much she still longed for Nathaniel. But suddenly, she didn't want Michael, even as she allowed him to move within her, slowly at first, and then with a steadily increasing rhythm, his breath matching every movement until he finally pulsated forcefully inside of her.
”I love you, Shayla,” he said again, as his grinding movements finally slowed.
”I love you, too,” she parroted, immediately wis.h.i.+ng she could take back those words as well as the entire evening. She couldn't have Nathaniel, but that didn't mean that choosing another man, even one with the perfect checklist of credentials for marriage, fixed the longing in her heart.
”You can't tell anyone,” Shayla said, sitting on the pink couch of her childhood suite, where she and Gerald met. She had asked him to meet with her privately.
”Of course,” Gerald said, rea.s.suringly. ”So what's this news?” Shayla knew she could trust him, more than anyone else.
”I proposed to Michael,” she said, softly.
”That's wonderful!” he said, but immediately looked at her curiously. ”You don't look happy,” he said.
”He's a wonderful man,” Shayla said, knowing it was true.
”Then why is your engagement a secret?”
She hesitated. She wanted to tell him the real reason, but couldn't quite admit it out loud. ”I'm negotiating employment terms for the steel workers and having trouble. I want that ironed out first. Plus, I'm not ready for the paparazzi. News of my engagement will have them all over us,” she said.
”Are you sure that's the only reason?” he asked. Shayla remembered how well he knew her.
”I just want to wait a little,” she said. She really wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn't come.
”Of course,” he said, nodding and she knew he wouldn't question her further. That was one of the things she loved about Gerald. He respected her answers without digging, unlike her mother.
”I especially don't want my mother to know,” she said.
”Understood,” he said pausing. ”You know, Shayla, your father wrote you a letter to be opened upon your engagement,” Gerald said. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of something new from her father. He had been gone for so long. Why was Gerald the keeper of the letter, rather than her mother? It made her think of the last time she saw her father. He had said, ”This is just for you. Never, ever show it to your mother or tell her you have it. Promise?” her father asked, as his frail hand held out the black velvet bag. He had been sick for so long, he was skin and bones.
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