Coffee and Confessions

Karla returned from her lunch break ten minutes early, sipping the coffee she had brought back with her. She had just settled down at her desk when a pretty redhead left Tristan's office. The woman glanced at Karla in disinterest and left the office with a spring in her step.

Charlotte, one of Tristan's few female real estate agents and Karla's closest friend in the office came and sat on Karla's desk having noticed her disgusted expression.

"What was that?" Karla demanded, her nose screwed up in distaste.

"That was Antoinette Bartholomew a dancer in the National Ballet."

"Is she…Is she dating Tristan?" Karla managed to ask without crying.

She and Tristan had gone out a few times. They never said anything was official, and never said they would not see other people, but she never expected him to flaunt the tart in front of her.

Charlotte shrugged. "I don't know. I think they went out for a while a few months ago. If they're an item, I couldn't say. Can I ask what this sudden interest is all about?"

"Oh! I'm still trying to figure out what makes Tristan tick," Karla responded lightly.

"Karla, I need you to courier a copy of the contract to the Davidsons straight away. Charlotte, don't you have any work to do?" Tristan asked curtly as he stood in the doorway watching the two women gossip.

Rolling her eyes behind her employer's back, Charlotte returned to her desk and her work. Karla arranged for the transportation of the documents and set about sorting the mail and typing up listings and contracts.

As closing time came and went, one by one, the other agents left, leaving Tristan and Karla alone in the office. Tristan made himself a coffee, expecting Karla to have already left. When he tried to order her home, Karla resisted, telling him she had work to do and wanted to talk to him before he left.

At six-thirty-seven, Tristan locked his office and sat down on the couch set next to Karla's desk.

"What is you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I was just… I… Who was that woman who was in here at lunch?" she asked in a rush as she neatly folded her hands together to stop them from trembling.

"I don't see that as any of your concern," Tristan countered, not showing a trace of emotion.

"It is damn well my concern if you are seeing her at the same time as you are seeing me, Tristan!" Karla snapped as she stood in her place, glaring down at him. The urge to cry overwhelmed her as she stared at his hard face.

All she wanted was some evidence that he took their relationship seriously. She had the right to know if he thought of her as a passing interest or if he saw her as something a bit more serious.

"Don't be ridiculous, Karla! We have been out only three times; that is hardly enough time to commit solely to one person." Karla opened her mouth to protest, but Tristan continued. "Do not think I haven't seen you looking at any remotely good looking man who walks by. It is a wonder that you do throw yourself at him."

Tristan was reminded of his parents. They were always arguing about the other's wandering eyes. It seemed as if history was repeating itself.

Karla hid her face and blinked away the tears. She tried to defend herself in a little voice. "I do not look-"

The door slammed shut. Tristan walked quickly down the road to his car.

Saturday morning, Tristan made himself a cup of coffee, still furious at Karla's demanding questions. He recalled the tears shining in her eyes as he accused her of staring at men while he was with her. No man wanted his girlfriend to look anywhere but him.

Perhaps he had over-reacted at Karla's innocent question. However, anyone who knew of his childhood and his parents would understand reaction. He had spent his entire life looking for the exact opposite of his parents' relationship. He often felt that they were so busy trying to hurt each other that they forgot they had a son.

You would think they were married the way she was carrying on. No, they had been on a total of three dates and already she was demanding he tell her every aspect of his life!

The day seemed to drag for Tristan. He had been for his fortnightly run with Tom and was now faced the entire day ahead of him with nothing to do. He read the paper, picked up a few groceries and ran through the park again in the late afternoon. He was considering what to make for dinner when he recalled that he and Karla had very tentatively arranged dinner for that weekend.

He glanced at the phone, debating whether he should call her or not. In the end, he warmed a quiche he bought from the bakery earlier that day and sat down in front of the computer.

Sunday night Karla curled up in bed, disappointed with Tristan. He said he would call and arrange dinner. She could hardly blame him for not calling after the way they had left the office on Friday night.

Karla spent most of the weekend painting. She had her exhibition on Friday and she still had a few painting to finish. For the first time in a while, she was pleased her mood matched her sombre painting.

Mya had called and the two went out for a coffee Saturday afternoon, but other than that Karla spent the entire weekend alone. Typically she would enjoy the solitude, but for some reason, it upset her this weekend.

Christine closed the door and collapsed against it as she took a deep breath. The performance had, yet again been a success and two ovations later, she was certain she would not be able to sing another note. She sat down on the lounge and pulled her shoes and wig off, knowing a few minutes peace before her maid came bursting in to undress her.

"Christine!" Raoul's voice sounded through the door a moment before he pushed it open.

Wrapping herself in a silk robe, Christine turned around and smiled at him.

"You were amazing tonight, Christine," he said as he caught her hand and carried it to his lips. "You were a goddess! I would like to take you to dinner; dinner, champagne and a drive through the Bois."

Christine wrung her hands as she considered his offer. "It is very tempting…"

"I will return in fifteen minutes, then!"

Twenty-five minutes later, Raoul was handing Christine up into his carriage before settling down next to her. Again, he took her hand and removed her gloves before trailing kisses over the back of her hand, her palm and her wrist.

Christine sat wrapped in Raoul's arms as he drove her to Mama Valérius' house. She sighed contentedly as she moved deeper into his embrace. Raoul had been so sweet and charming all night she could feel herself falling in love with him all over again. She could easily imagine her life with him. A vicomtesse, married to a peer of the realm, surrounded by wealth, beauty and happiness.

After a few days of strained distance, Tristan invited Karla to join him for lunch at the local café. Karla had cautiously accepted his offer and was later thankful that she had. Lunch – and their fourth unofficial date – was better than she could have hoped.

Tristan entertained her with tales of the trouble he and his friends would get themselves into in school. Karla found herself dissolving into uncontrollable fits of giggles aided by her cappuccino. Caffeine rarely went to her head, but with Tristan in such an agreeable mood, she could not help herself.

Tristan watched Karla carefully. He had never heard her laugh so freely and found her laughter infectious. He resisted the urge to smile at her amusement and childlike appearance. When he first saw her, he thought her pretty. But now that he had seen her so relaxed and carefree she was positively radiant. He would be a fool to let her go.

Karla sighed. "You are so lucky to have such a normal childhood. I never went to school."

Tristan looked at her with wide eyes.

She giggled at his expression. "I toured the world with my father and had a tutor who came with us. I did give her a hard time (which I now regret) but I never had the opportunity to get into the mischief you did."

"I doubt you could ever do anything wrong."

His comment was said so solemnly that Karla broke down into giggles again. "Marianne would not see it that way."

They walked slowly back to the office, still sharing stories of the way they made their teachers' lives difficult. Tristan paused at the door to the office and fixed Karla with a severe look. The smile quickly faded from her face.

"I think you should take the afternoon off and go home. You are a giggling mess; I do not think you will get much work done." His hand briefly rose to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear and lingered on her cheek. "I just hope I can cope without you for an afternoon."

It was decided that in order to make up for their failed dinner Tristan and Karla would have dinner together after work on Friday. Not only was Karla having dinner with Tristan, he was cooking. She had been feeling a sense of anticipation all day; Mya had even helped her pick out a new outfit for the night.

Karla walked into Tristan's office with a letter he needed to sign before she could post. She sank down into the spare chair while he scanned the letter. In an effort to keep the peace, Karla had brought in a plate of biscuits which seemed to remain untouched. Tristan glanced up and saw her eyeing the plate.

"Have one." He offered her the plate and waited for Karla to pick a biscuit before taking one for himself.

Karla smiled and returned to her desk, the special biscuit in her fingers.

A little before four, Karla transferred a call into Tristan. She thought nothing of it, but when Tristan called her into his office fifteen minutes later she immediately knew something was wrong. His tie was up at his collar and his sleeves were carefully buttoned at his wrists. He was going out.

"I have to cancel dinner." He wasted no time in sharing his unpleasant news. He wanted to get Karla's unpleasant reaction over as quickly as possible.

Karla looked up at him in a combination of surprise and disappointment. "Because of Scott Roberts-Whatever?"

"Roberts-Proctor, yes. He has found a house just outside of Paris he likes; he seems very eager to look at it."

Karla felt her excitement die. Her special dinner with Tristan was cancelled for the second time. They were really trying to make the relationship thing work but they did not seem to be getting anywhere.

"Work has to come first. I understand if you want to cancel our dinner."

Tristan had noted Karla's positive mood and knew instinctively that the dinner he planned to cook for her was the reason. It was wonderful to know that she looked forward to spending time with him. He felt horrible that he had to postpone their dinner because of work, but Scott was very close to signing the contract. Tristan did not want to miss the opportunity.

As the tears of disappointment trickled down her cheeks, Tristan jumped to his feet and turned his back on her. He was filled with guilt; he did not need Karla to make him feel any worse. Or to try and convince him to change his mind.

"For crying out loud, woman, don't think for a moment a few tears are going to get you your own way!"

"Is that what you think?" she sniffed. "Do you think I'm crying to make you feel bad about cancelling dinner? I am not that kind of woman, Tristan." She stood up and attempted to glare down indignantly at him. "I would like to know who gave you the impression that all women are like that, but she was-"

The rest of the statement was cut off as Tristan grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down in her chair again.

"Be quiet, Karla! Do you really want to know who gave me the impression that women are manipulative creatures who are not afraid to cry or throw a tantrum to get their own way? Do you? The woman was my mother!

"You see, my father was never faithful to my mother."

"Tristan, I'm not-"

"You wanted to know, you're going to listen! He went off and had numerous affairs over the course of my parents' marriage. When my mother found out she did everything to make him stop. She would scream and throw things at him but that only sent him off to the other woman faster." He closed his eyes, trying to block the images from his childhood. "She would cry for hours, and he would stay until she was asleep. Then, he would go off to his mistress.

"When my mother realised that he did not stay with her then entire night, she went off and conducted her own affairs with young men as revenge."

Tristan turned around and stared at a picture on the wall. He had seen the compassion in Karla's eyes and could not stand it.

"As if that was not enough, the woman I thought I loved regularly used the same tactics on me. What a fool I was; twenty and convinced that she loved me! I was going to ask her to marry me," Tristan added softly to himself.

"It took me three years to figure out she was just like my mother." He stared at Karla trying to determine if there were any similarities between her and his mother and his first infatuation. "If I ever told her I would be home late she would cry and work herself into a fit. The only way I could get her to stop was if I promised to not work late.

"So, forgive me if I do not find your tears convincing or live up to your expectations, Karla. I think given my upbringing and history, it might be justified."

"Tristan, I am not like that. I was just shocked; I have been looking forward to our dinner all day."

Tristan nodded. "I know. I'm sorry, but I have to cancel."

When Tristan picked up his briefcase and turned to stalk out the door, Karla called his name. Tristan stopped and spun around to her, his face carefully composed. Since everything was now coming out into the open, it seemed appropriate to ask the question that had been annoying her for weeks.

"Is there a reason you do not show any emotion?" Karla bit her lip as she reviewed the blunt way she had phrased the question.

"Yes, there is a reason."

"It's just that you do not seem to feel anything. I have never seen you smile or show any form of emotion whatsoever."

Tristan felt his heart constrict at Karla's words. She thought he did not feel emotion. He felt the anger, joy and concern all too clearly. He felt himself drifting back into his dark childhood and was unable to shake off the thoughts of his father.

"That's not true," he muttered softly as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Why do you not show any emotion?" Karla persisted as she perched on the edge of her desk and reached out to him. Her hands were inches from his when they fell to her lap. She could feel him putting up the walls and defences to keep her from finding too much about him and was determined to prevent them from going up. "Did someone tell you not to?"

Tristan nodded. The conversation between eight-year-old Tristan and his father came out in a rush. "I was in my room crying because of yet another argument my parents were having. My father came upstairs and knocked on the door. I had heard a car drive off and thought he'd gone out. When I opened the door, I'd expected my mother to be standing there, ready to comfort me.

"My father saw that I had been crying and was furious. He told me that tears were only for women. He told me that men did not show their emotions and that whatever I felt stayed on the inside because what I was feeling was nobody's business. So at eight, I learnt how to hide my feelings."

Karla stared up at Tristan with tears in her eyes. His eyes were glassy as he gazed at something in the distance, unaware of Karla's saddened expression. His childhood was so different to hers, and she was reminded yet again of how different they were.

Karla grabbed his hand and held it tightly in her own as she caressed his cheek and the corner of his mouth with the other. She bit her lip to keep from crying out when he quickly stepped away from her touch.

"Your father's wrong, Tristan. There is nothing wrong with showing what you are feeling. It is not right that you have kept everything to yourself for so long. Please, forget what your father told you and show your emotions. You need to smile more."

"What I feel is nobody's business," Tristan repeated the words he had heard his entire life, and until now had believed. Perhaps Karla was right. Perhaps it was normal to show his emotion and was not a sign of weakness.

Karla stared at him for a moment, speechless. Her eyes were unfocused with unshed tears. She had no idea what to say to the story of his childhood. It was little wonder he was so sombre and unmoved by displays of emotion.

"What you feel is very much my business and all the other people who care about you."

Tristan ran his hand through his hair as he tried to control his emotions. He had spent much of his life trying to repress his unpleasant childhood. He knew that in a few days he would be thankful of Karla's persistence and the way she made him face his past. But at the moment he just wanted to get away and lose himself in his work.

She returned to the chair and offered him a shaky smile. "Since you have to work tonight, could we reschedule dinner to tomorrow night?"

Tristan nodded. He had not scared her away as he thought he might. He pulled one of her hands into his and clutched it in his for a few moments, his amber eyes holding hers. He squeezed her hand briefly before leaving for his appointment.