A/N: Hello! Your reviews make my day; particularly as inspiration has been waning lately. Immensely.
Anywaaaaaay- here is chapter three of this fic!
Thirty seven minutes after the sixth hour, Cal and Gillian arrived.
Cal had considered asking about her reluctance to go to her high school reunion; he'd seen it from her every step of the way—from the moment she opened the door with a sad little smile, he could tell she wasn't looking forward to the event. Perhaps he shouldn't have pushed her to attend, but it was too late now, and despite how badly he wanted to know whatever story she wasn't telling him, he decided that a six hour car ride was not the ideal time to push her sensitive buttons.
Cal tipped the valet and guided Gillian through the automatic doors of the hotel lobby with a hand on her lower back. She smiled at the contact, and he returned the smile.
"Feel good to be back, love?" He asked as they headed toward the front desk.
Gillian scrunched her nose and shrugged lightly, "It feels weird to be back," She said with a slight chuckle.
"Fair enough," Cal led the way to an open slot at the reception desk where he was greeted with a boy that couldn't have been older than twenty five.
The young man greeted them with a smile that wasn't quite genuine, but still polite, "How may I help you?"
Cal returned the polite smile, "Reservations under the name Lightman," Cal said, taking out his wallet, preparing to hand the young man the necessary items.
The man had sandy blond hair and he looked between Cal and Gillian—Cal watched as the young man's eyes lingered on Gillian and his pupils dilated slightly. Cal couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Gillian avert her gaze and blush slightly. It was a response to Gillian he was used to seeing—the male response—and sometimes it irked Cal to no end, particularly when it was the competition giving it. However, the blond boy was hardly what Cal would call competition, so he found it amusing, instead.
"Ah, okay Mr. and Mrs. Lightman," the young man, Derek by his nametag, said, and Cal opened his mouth to correct him, but stopped short when he saw how deeply Gillian was blushing. It certainly wasn't the first time the mistake had been made, but Cal had never taken the time to notice Gillian's reaction. He found it endearing and when she didn't make the move to correct Derek, Cal didn't either. It was harmless enough—besides, he'd understand when the reservations came up as two separate rooms.
Derek began typing into his computer, and after a minute or two, he printed out a document—"Right, I'll just need a credit card, then." He said, looking at Cal, who pulled one out of his wallet. He'd already discussed with Gillian that he would be paying for the room since he was practically forcing her to go to the reunion. Handing his American Express card over, Cal smiled at Gillian—and she returned the smile with a light shake of her head that seemed to say I still can't believe I'm doing this.
Derek took the card, swiped it through his machine and then put two keys and a few brochures on the surface in front of him—"You'll be in room 728," Derek said, his gaze flicking back and forth between Cal and Gillian.
Cal raised an eyebrow at the young man—"The reservations for two rooms, actually." Cal said, leaning over the counter.
Derek looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, "Oh…" He said, his voice taking on a note of realization.
Cal rolled his eyes—"We're not married," He said pointedly, "We're business partners and we need separate rooms."
Derek shot Cal a look that seemed to say sorry to hear that, man, and Cal shot him one back that was in the vicinity of you and me, both. And Cal couldn't help but chuckle when Derek looked at Gillian with a new sort of appreciation—
"Oh, okay," Derek said, and began immediately typing on the keyboard again. He squinted at the screen, scrolled down and then typed some more. He repeated this process several times before he finally looked up from his computer screen and fixed Cal and Gillian with pursed lips and a look of disappointment on his face. "I am so sorry," he said, dragging out the word 'so,' so as to convey his regret appropriately, "But, we're all booked up—there's a big conference going on here this weekend, and we just don't have any more rooms left."
Gillian and Cal both looked at Derek in disbelief—"You've got to be joking," Gillian said, her voice tired.
Derek looked at her and said gravely, "No, miss, no joke."
Cal would have chuckled at the look he gave Gillian—one mirroring a puppy dog, Cal imagined, who had done something blameworthy but didn't want to get in trouble for it—but he was too tired and upset.
"You're absolutely sure?" Cal asked.
Derek typed some more and then nodded. "Yes, sir. Absolutely."
Cal sighed and looked at Gillian—he arched his eyebrow, "Well?"
She looked at him, "There are hundreds of hotels in Hartford," She said, matter-of-factly.
Cal shrugged and fixed a look on his face that he was actually quite proud of. He was proud of it because he managed to look as though sharing a hotel room with Gillian Foster would put him out in some form or another—well, if circumstances were right, he'd certainly put out—but, it would in no way put him out to have to spend every waking (and slumbering) moment of this weekend with her.
"It's up to you, darling." Cal said, secretly hoping she'd be too tired to go in search of other lodging.
She looked at Cal and pursed her lips—then, she turned to Derek, "Are there, by any chance, two beds in that room?" She asked.
Derek squinted at his computer and then looked at Gillian, "Yes." He said, nodding once.
"Then we'll take it." Gillian said, as she walked away from the counter, somewhat exasperated.
Cal said a silent thank you to six hour drives before he picked the key and paperwork up from the counter and then leaned in closer to Derek, "Say, Derek," Cal said, his voice unusually quiet, "I understand this little mix up wasn't your fault, but—" Cal trailed off and looked behind him to make sure Gillian wasn't paying any attention—she wasn't, so Cal continued, "You see that lovely lady over there?" Cal indicated Gillian with his head.
Derek swallowed and nodded, "Yes, sir."
Cal laughed, "I know you do—well, she just so happens to love desserts—all sorts of them, really," Cal said, waving his hand around to convey the spectrum of desserts Gillian Foster enjoyed—
Derek's pupils dilated slightly, "Okay?" He said, his voice tight.
"So, what I was wondering is—because of this little mix up, what do you think the possibilities are, Derek, that we could get some complimentary dessert this weekend?"
Derek smiled at the man in front of him. While he wasn't high up on the food chain, he did have the authority to make certain decisions using his discretion. He looked at the woman in front of him and his eyes traveled up and down her body—and then his gaze shifted to the man in front of him who was, actually, quite nice. He hadn't gotten upset or yelled when his reservation was wrong which was a nice change from the usual fits people tended to throw when things didn't turn out right. Derek appreciated that.
Derek leaned forward—"Well," he said, glancing between Gillian, who was looking at a piece of art on the wall and Cal, who was smiling, "I'll make a note here—you'll get complimentary desserts the entire weekend," Derek said, "Anything she wants." He added, smiling at Cal.
"Perfect, Derek," Cal said, as he reached to shake the young man's hand and then he joined Gillian by the artwork.
As they stepped into the elevator, Gillian sighed, "I can't believe this," She said as she reached out and pressed the button that would get them to the seventh floor, "It's an omen," She said, shaking her head.
Cal chuckled, "I never realized you were so superstitious, love."
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him, "I'm not—but it is." She said, her voice serious.
Cal laughed, "Oh, I don't know about that…" He trailed off and looked at her—Gillian's eyes were focused on the ticker that told them which floor they were currently on, "Sometimes things happen for a reason," He said.
Something about the tone in his voice made her snap her head to look at him—it sounded—well, downright suggestive. She quirked an eyebrow at him and couldn't control the surprise that passed over her face.
As the elevator doors opened on floor seven, Cal looked at her over his shoulder as he stepped into the hall—"You'll see," He said, raising his eyebrows.
Gillian followed him slowly out of the elevator. "Oh, I will?" She asked as they headed down the hallway to their room.
Cal didn't turn around to answer—he just walked confidently down the hall until he came to a stop in front of room 728.
They'd settled into their room and Gillian was sitting on her bed—the one nearest the window, with the comforter pulled back as she didn't trust the cleanliness even in nice hotels like the one they were staying in—flipping through a worn copy of one of three novels she'd brought with her on the trip. Cal was sitting on his bed, his laptop on his lap, his glasses adorning his face.
They were engulfed in a comfortable silence, each buried in his or her own thoughts. Gillian's eyes scanned the pages of her novel, but she didn't absorb anything—her thoughts were elsewhere, as were Cal's for that matter.
Suddenly, an iChat window popped up on Cal's screen—he smiled when he saw who it was from.
Emily (10:01:23): Hi, Dad!
CLightman (10:01:28): hey em
Emily (10:01:37): How's Connecticut?
CLightman (10:02:13): don't really know yet. saw lots of roads today. those are nice, i suppose.
Emily (10:02:20): Cool. How's Gill?
CLightman (10:02:52): she's…alright. she's reading a book right now.
Emily (10:03:04): You guys are in the same room?
CLightman (10:03:27): hey now, there was a mix up with the reservations, hotel was booked. none of that now.
Emily (10:03:48): Whatever. Are you guys sharing a bed?
CLightman (10:04:10): em…
Emily (10:04:19): What? Simple question.
CLightman (10:04:36): no. i've got my own bed, and she's got hers.
Emily (10:04:51): Bummer.
Emily (10:05:29): Haha! You're thinking the exact same thing!
Emily (10:05:48): Tell her I say hi!
CLightman (10:06:00): ok, love.
Emily (10:06:12): No, like right now. Tell her now.
CLightman (10:06:40): ok. she says hi.
Emily (10:06:59): Liar. You didn't tell her. Tell. Her. Now.
CLightman (10:07:11): fine.
Cal looked up from his computer screen—he glanced at Foster, her nose still in the book, "Emily says hi." He said, smiling at her.
Gillian turned her head to look at him and smiled—the sides of her eyes crinkled and she laughed lightly, "Tell her I say hi back."
Cal nodded, and smiled at her before he turned back to his computer and began typing.
CLightman (10:08:51): she says hi back.
Emily (10:09:12): GOOD. I knew you didn't tell her.
CLightman (10:09:29): of course you did. how's your mum?
Emily (10:10:15): She's fine, I guess. She's been working a lot on her new case. She says to tell Gill good luck.
CLightman (10:10:43): very funny.
Emily (10:10:59): lol! Well, she could've said that.
CLightman (10:11:11): right.
Emily (10:11:38): So…have you asked Gill yet why she's so nervous?
CLightman (10:12:21): you just can't keep your nose out of other people's business, can you?
Emily (10:12:58): Nope. Wonder where I learned that…?
CLightman (10:13:21): you've got a mouth on you, young lady…
Emily (10:13:45): See previous response. :)
Emily (10:14:08): Well, are you going to ask her?
CLightman (10:14:24): eventually.
Emily (10:15:12): …
CLightman (10:15:37): that's all you're getting.
CLightman (10:16:01): stop pouting.
Emily (10:16:27): Fine. But do it soon.
Emily (10:16:59): And I'm glad you're there with her.
Emily (10:17:23): High School is rough.
Emily (10:17:54): And, you might want to consider using this weekend to your advantage.
CLightman (10:18:36): and what, exactly, does that mean?
Emily (10:18:58): YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS.
Emily (10:19:04): TELL HER.
CLightman (10:19:21): don't start that again, darling.
CLightman (10:19:56): some things you just don't understand.
Emily (10:20:11): Psh. Some things YOU don't understand, Dad.
Emily (10:20:47): FINE. But don't come crying to me when it's too late.
CLightman (10:21:31): noted. now, go to bed, love.
Emily (10:21:40): Alright.
Emily (10:21:49): Tell Gill I say goodnight.
Cal looked up at Gillian, still reading her book—
"Emily says goodnight." He said, and a rather sheepish look came across his face—he felt silly relaying messages from his daughter, "She's making me tell you," He nodded toward the computer.
All embarrassment he felt slipped away when he saw the look that came across Gillian's face—he couldn't quite get a read on precisely what it was, but it melted his heart—and, in fact, that's kind of what it looked like on her, too—that her heart was melting.
Gillian smiled, "Tell her I say goodnight." She said, simply.
Cal turned his attention back to the computer screen.
CLightman (10:23:41): she says goodnight. and yes. i really told her.
Emily (10:24:02): Okay, good. Now, one more thing?
CLightman (10:24:25): …what?
Emily (10:24:40): Tell her
Emily (10:24:43): That
Emily (10:24:55): You LOVE her
Emily (10:25:03): And that you can't live without her!
(10:25:05 Emily has signed off)
Finally, clearing his throat, Cal looked over at Gillian, "So," He asked, bending his computer so that it was half closed, indicating that she had his attention now, "What's on the agenda for tomorrow, love?" Cal asked, his voice innocent.
Gillian glanced at him from the corner of her eye, still holding the book in front of her. "I don't know…" She said, clearly suspicious of his tone. She had known Cal Lightman well enough to recognize that particular tone.
Cal leaned his head back against the headboard and pinched the bridge of his nose—he took a beat before he spoke, "Isn't there a luncheon or something tomorrow…?" Cal's gaze returned to Gillian's face and he watched as annoyance passed across it.
Gillian sighed and shut her book, placing it in her lap—"I am not going to that luncheon tomorrow," She said, her tone stern.
Cal threw up his hands in a defensive gesture, "Alright, it just sounded like it might be fun."
Gillian narrowed her eyes at him. "It won't. And I'm not going, Saturday will be bad enough, thank you very much," She said, her tone indicating that she blamed him for it all—"We'll explore the city tomorrow—maybe go to some museums or something." Gillian said, staring at him.
"Alright," Cal nodded, accepting the finality with which she spoke. "Sounds lovely," He said, sincerely.
He turned his attention back to his computer, but he kept glancing at Gillian who kept her book shut—she was nestled back on the pillows, in her pajamas which were pink with white clouds on them and absolutely adorable, chewing on her bottom lip. She was clearly deep in thought, and Cal could tell by the deep furrow in her brow that the thoughts weren't entirely positive.
Cal reached over to the nightstand situated in between the two beds, "Hey, I know what will make you feel better," He said, and Gillian turned to look at him—he picked the room service menu up and tossed it on the bed next to her legs—she quirked an eyebrow at him, "Dessert." He said, grinning at her.
She tried to look serious and disinterested, but she was unable to hide the excitement that flashed across her face. Her hand twitched and Cal knew she wanted to pick up the menu—
"Go on," He said, "Order anything you want."
She picked up the menu and thumbed through it—Cal could see her eyes widen as she took in the expanse of the menu-"These desserts are ridiculously expensive, Cal," Gillian said.
"Doesn't matter," Cal said, grinning, "It's on the house—" At her questioning gaze, he shrugged, "For our little mix up," He gestured between them.
A slow smile spread across Gillian's mouth—one that reached her eyes, and Cal was glad to see it. He'd only seen half smiles or else entirely fake ones since they'd begun their journey—"How did you…?" She asked, her voice betraying her delight.
Cal chuckled, "Well, love, it wasn't so much me," He said, and Gillian looked at him, a confused expression settling on her features—"As it was you," He said, emphasizing the word and allowing his gaze to run over the length of her body. She colored under his gaze, but Cal could tell she still didn't understand, "Derek." Cal said simply, and Gillian laughed lightly, "The boy liked what he saw," Cal said, his voice containing amusement and something darker than that—"Can't blame him, really," Cal said, his voice rougher than it needed to be.
Gillian felt her skin go hot as her body tingled—Cal was looking at her with what she could only describe as longing, and she laughed nervously as she returned her gaze to the menu—"Everything happens for a reason," She said, echoing his earlier words, finally understanding what they meant. Although she guessed (and guessed correctly) that he had another meaning in mind, as well. "I'll take the strawberry shortcake," She said, snapping the menu closed and setting it back on the nightstand.
Cal smiled at her and picked up the phone to dial room service. After he'd ordered, he opened his computer again and buried himself in his thoughts. Gillian opened her book and looked slightly more relaxed, which pleased Cal—but he could still tell something was wrong—
He'd try to poke at whatever it was tomorrow, scratch the surface at least—when he heard the knock at the door, he got up to answer it—this weekend, he was certain, would be very telling.
TBC
