—George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings 

Chapter 37

Sophia gripped tightly to Derek’s elbow as they walked past the crowd of onlookers. The bright lights of the hotel’s canopy illuminated the night. A gentleman wearing a black uniform opened the door of the Shedis-tics’ limousine. Gracefully Sophia lowered herself into the spacious compartment and settled into the plush leather seat. Once Derek was beside her, the door closed and the car eased forward. It was the same car which brought them to the gala. Sophia whispered in Derek’s ear, “I like some of the perks with your new job!”

Momentarily closing her eyes, Sophia enjoyed the silence of the limousine. Compared to the gala, the tranquility was heaven. With the multitudes of people talking, the music, people dancing, and the paparazzi outside the hotel, for the past three hours noise had been constant. Suddenly she remembered the presidential suite. Sophia struggled with her mixed emotions. She was angry she’d missed part of the gala, sad at disappointing her husband, and excited about the mystery buyer’s newest offer.

Derek’s familiar touch warmed her hand and brought her thoughts back to the man beside her. She leaned against his sturdy shoulder. Her cheek brushed the sleeve of his new tuxedo while her fingers played with the satin lapels.

“Are you tired?” Derek asked.

“I am, but I enjoyed the dancing very much.”

“Me too.” He kissed the top of her head.

Sophia exhaled; she’d already apologized a hundred times for missing the meal and speeches. Nevertheless, she felt the need to do it again, “Derek, I’m so sorry I missed part of the gala.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing. I understand. It’s your job.”

Sophia nodded. She rarely thought of herself as employed. Yet, Derek was right; art was her job. She reasoned he understood job responsibilities and equating her temporary absence in that way made it easier for him to justify.

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.

Throughout the entire car ride, Claire divided her time between reliving the evening’s confrontations with Tony and imagining her reunion with Harry. It was at least thirty minutes into the trip before she realized she and Eric were driving in complete silence. It wasn’t as if they’d ever chatted, but in the past their relationship was cordial. Nevertheless, when Claire recalled his persuasive behavior from earlier, she felt no desire for familiarity. Besides, her mind was too full of thoughts and memories; the outside world seemed temporarily irrelevant. It was when those thoughts incited tears that Claire asked Eric to turn on some music. Truly it was an attempt to conceal her crying from Tony’s informant.