Author's Note: Written because I really, really like cake. Really.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lie to Me' or any of the characters in this story.
Gillian didn't know what possessed her to bake the cake, but she suspected it had something to do with the lure of butter cream frosting. Since her divorce had become final she found herself much more willing to indulge in certain desserts than she had in the past. To be sure, it flew in the face of conventional wisdom. Every woman's magazine on the market instructed the newly single woman to pamper her body to the max – facials, manicures, pedicures, highlights, lowlights, even Botox (God forbid) – and get back out there to snag the next Mr. Right! Nowhere did any of them link increased sugar consumption to an increased likelihood of meeting the man of her dreams.
Lost in thoughts of cake and expanding waistlines, she was slow to tune in to chorus of 'Ooohs' and 'Aaaaahs' as she carried the cake into the break room, placing it ceremoniously in front of the birthday boy himself. She couldn't suppress a smile as she watched his eyes widen at the sight of the two-tiered, pink rose covered birthday cake.
"My God…," Cal breathed, eyes fixed the cake in front of him. "Why does Martha Stewart hate me so much?"
Amid the laughter of his employees, he sliced the cake and doled out pieces on small paper plates. After everyone had a plate in hand and was busy chatting, Cal cut himself an extra small piece, grabbed a fork and slipped silently out of the break room and back to his office.
Later that afternoon, Gillian returned to the break room, prepared to clean up the typical post-office-birthday party debris. Instead she found the room cleaner than she'd seen it in months. Except for the remains of the cake on a table near the wall, the rest of the room was spotless. She'd known the cake was likely far too big for the staff of the Lightman Group, but she'd been unable to resist the lure of so much delicious sugar. Not one to waste perfectly good leftovers, she found some aluminum foil in a drawer and wrapped up the rest of the cake as best she could. She vowed that no leftover cake would go uneaten if she could help it.
Deep in the latest edition of National Geographic, Cal jumped as the doorbell sounded.
He swung the front door open.
"What is it you've forgotten this ti--? Foster?"
"None other than," Gillian grinned at him. "Were you expecting someone else?"
"Um, yeah, actually." He laughed at himself. "Emily just went out a few minutes ago and I figured the bell meant she'd forgotten something vital again – some boy's phone number or something. But you're a much nicer surprise."
He grinned back at her as he stepped aside and held the door open, ushering her into the foyer.
"Please come in," he said with a mock bow. Noticing the package in Gillian's hands, he looked perplexed. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"Well, there was quite a bit of your birthday cake left over, and I noticed you didn't take a very big piece aaaaand I thought Emily might like some too. What's up with her ditching you on your birthday anyway?" She breezed into the kitchen and deposited the leftover cake on the counter.
It wasn't often that Gillian got the chance to sit and talk with Emily in relative peace and quiet, and she was sorry the girl had gone out for the evening. Plus, Emily's presence usually made it just a tiny bit easier to deal with Cal. In her mind, Gillian had imagined Emily would be there when she brought the cake over and that she'd act as a buffer between the two of them, allowing her and Cal to spend time together away from work without having to worry too much about straying over any of their numerous unspoken, often unacknowledged, lines. She mentally sighed. Ah the best laid plans and all that…
"Oh, she didn't ditch me, " Cal said. "In fact, she made me dinner before she went out." He looked particularly proud. "Grilled salmon, cornbread, and some delicious green beans. She's turning into quite a cook."
"Oh so healthy," Gillian laughed as she rummaged in a drawer for a knife suitable for cake cutting.
"Well, she's been giving me grief lately – well, more grief than usual – about the need to watch my weight, eat better, etcetera, etcetera. That's part of the reason I took a smaller piece of cake today."
"Cal. Please." Gillian rolled her eyes at him. "Neither of us is getting any younger, but that doesn't mean we can't splurge on special occasions. And what's more special than a birthday? Now, plates." She held out her hands and accepted the two small plates Cal handed her.
"No, PLATES. Bigger ones." Cal hesitated.
"What? You didn't like the cake when you tried it earlier?"
"No, quite the contrary. I liked it very much. Too much in fact. That's why I thought I'd go with a smaller plate – I was trying to save myself from myself, or from the Wrath of Emily, or something like that," he tailed off lamely as Gillian mock- frowned at him. "Okay, you're right. We'll do bigger plates."
"Thank you." She took the larger plates and began to cut two huge slices of cake. "As I'm sure you know, sometimes it's best to humor me." She glanced over her shoulder and winked at him.
"Ummm. And I also know that sometimes I just need to keep my mouth shut. Coffee, love?"
"Please."
As she finished arranging the cake on the plates and listened to Cal start the coffeemaker, Gillian felt a pang. She thought she'd adjusted to life as a single woman, savoring her privacy, her freedom to do exactly as she pleased. She didn't realize how much she missed something as normal as this – two people in a kitchen, preparing food to eat in each other's company. She wondered if Cal had felt the same way after he and Zoe had split up.
"Shall we sit in the living room?" Cal suggested. "If I'm going to indulge I want to be comfortable in the process."
"By all means. Lead the way." She grabbed the plates of cake and two forks and followed a tray-bearing Cal into the living room. A small fire in the fireplace threw shadows around the room. Cal placed the tray on the coffee table and accepted the plate and fork Gillian handed him. They sank down on opposite ends of a cushiony sofa.
"Cheers," Cal said, leaning forward to clink forks with Gillian.
"Cheers," she smiled.
They were silent as they began eat. Surreptitiously, she watched Cal. She wasn't completely sure he'd been telling the truth earlier about liking the cake. As she saw him close his eyes and swallow, savoring the taste, she realized he'd meant what he said. The sight of him, unguarded in his enjoyment, made something in her loosen, a tight knot begin to release.
Opening his eyes, he saw Gillian watching him intently. "What? Have I got frosting on my nose already?"
"No, not yet. I just wasn't quite sure, earlier, when you said you liked the cake if you were telling me the truth. But now I see that you are."
"Yes. I cannot tell a lie – about cake anyway. This is truly delicious and I could eat it until I pass out from the sheer pleasure. I meant to ask you earlier, what bakery did it come from?"
She felt her face start to heat up and cursed her fair skin. "Ahhh…"
"Foster? It's not that hard a question is it?"
"No, it's just, ah… I… ah… made it myself," she blurted out.
"You? You made this? This incredibly beautiful, delicious beyond words cake?" Oh God. He was looking at her like she'd grown a third eye.
"Yeah, I just, you know felt like doing some baking and I knew your birthday was coming up, and I was watching some show on the cooking channel in the gym about decorating, and I used to love experimenting with different colored icing, and you know me and sugar, and, I'm rambling aren't I?" She stuffed a bite of cake into her mouth before she could continue to embarrass herself.
"Gilly, old girl, I never knew you had it in you." His grin was wicked as he looked at his piece of cake, then back at her. She felt an absurd urge to touch her forehead to make sure no third eye had suddenly appeared.
"So. Yes. Despite your earlier remark, I'm not quite in Martha's league yet, but I did make you a birthday cake. So. Happy birthday Cal." Trying to regain her equilibrium, she ate another bite of cake.
Cal flinched. "Oh, damn. Foster." He groaned. "I'm sorry for the Martha Stewart quip. I swear if I'd known you'd made it I would never have opened my mouth. Oh damn again. That didn't come out right either. I do think it's beautiful and tastes terrific. You can see that, right?
She looked up from her plate at him. "Yes, Cal, I can. And don't worry about the Martha Stewart crack. I knew the cake was a little over the top when I made it." She gave him a shy grin and the tension between them eased.
"Oh thank God I'm off the hook." He wiped his brow and she laughed.
They resumed eating in companionable silence and Gillian was thinking how truly wonderful the cake tasted when she noticed his stillness. She looked up to see him watching her with a strange look on his face. She'd seen just about all of Cal Lightman's moods, seen him work in dozens of different situations throughout their years as business partners, under just about every circumstance possible, but this look was new to her. He was staring, not at her but through her.
"Cal?"
He blinked, as if to return himself to the moment. "Yes love?"
"Everything ok? It seemed like you were somewhere else just now."
"I… I'm fine. Really." He smiled as if to reassure her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes and she could feel the tension coming off him in waves.
"Cal?" She put down her plate and leaned forward, taking his free hand in hers. "You disappeared there for a minute."
"Where did you go?" she asked gently.
Cal looked down at their joined hands, shaking his head slightly. "It's… silly. Just… silly."
"You may think it's silly, but it looks like it's something pretty important to you. Why don't you tell me about it?" She stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, hoping her touch would help soothe him. She knew he was an intensely private man who could easily keep things to himself that would break most other people. Yet she knew he was affected, even if he refused to admit it.
He sighed softly. "I just realized that no one has ever made me a birthday cake before."
Gillian looked at him in dismay.
"See? I told you it was silly."
"Cal, that's not silly. It's… sad. Your mom never made you one when you were little? Zoe never made you one while you were married?"
"Nope. My mum was … not well for much of my childhood, and Zoe isn't the domestic type. I think she made them for Em a couple of years, but mostly she just picked one up at the grocery store. " He leaned over to put his cake plate down on the table, then looked down at their joined hands again. He knew if he looked at Gillian he'd see sympathy in those deep blue eyes and he wasn't sure how to deal with that.
"Oh Cal." The loosening she'd felt in the kitchen was becoming an expanding warmth inside her. She realized that for all her recent trials and tribulations – the child she'd had to return, the failed marriage to a man she'd once thought her soul mate – there were people in the world who'd had a far rougher life than she had. In the face of Cal's admission, she felt ashamed that she'd let her own concerns overwhelm the problems of those she cared about most. Like Cal.
Slowly, she lifted her right hand to his face, gently trailing her fingertips down his cheek and jaw line. Startled by her touch, he lifted his head, eyes wide, locking with her soft gaze.
"Gillian, I –"
"Shhh.
This time it was her fingers brushing back a lock of hair from his forehead, her palm cradling his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut and there was the look she'd seen moments ago – pure, unfiltered pleasure. Her thumb rubbed his cheek, feeling the rough stubble there. She could feel the tension leeching out of him. The lines on his face smoothed under her hand and his breathing became deeper. He looked younger and certainly more vulnerable than she'd seen him in years. The thought made her heart twist. He was so good at convincing the world that he was ten feet tall and bulletproof that she sometimes forgot he was just as human as she was.
Studying his face, she wondered why she'd never seen him this way before. She knew he hadn't been drinking, nor was he high. He hadn't seemed particularly tired, or stressed, or upset about anything when she'd arrived. Could it be that she'd simply missed it before? That her preoccupation with her marriage and career had blinded her from seeing a side of Cal Lightman few knew existed? For the second time that night she felt a hot rush of shame as she confronted her own selfishness.
She trailed her hand slowly down the side of his neck. As her fingers stroked the hollow at the base of his throat she thought she felt his pulse surge. And then the truth hit her like a blow to the stomach. She'd never seen Cal like this because she'd never touched him the way she was touching him now. As if to steady herself inside, she rested her hand on his chest. She was glad his eyes were still closed so he couldn't see her inner tumult reflected in her face. As she sat trying to process the river of emotions running through her, another revelation came hard on the heels of the first: Cal wasn't the only one feeling pleasure. The hot rush of feeling she'd felt a moment ago wasn't shame after all, she thought. She realized she was desperate to keep touching him for as long as she could. The acknowledgement of their mutual pleasure quickly obliterated the artificial lines and boundaries she'd created between them. Her heart began to pound as she realized there was only one thing left to do.
"Cal."
His eyes opened slowly.
With all the sweetness, tenderness, and gentleness in her heart, she kissed him.
~ End ~
