Our times together increased substantially after that. My work in LA was the beginning of my career. I had dabbled in song writing before, but after my work on the soundtrack won some of the biggest awards in the music industry, I was in high demand. This allowed me to pick and chose when and where I worked. I bought a beautiful old plantation house and moved in while renovations were still being done. Because of my level of comfort, I could take trips east whenever I was able. It was much less suspicious then him traveling to me.
Sometimes his work took him away so often, our schedules didn't collide for a couple of months. But when we were reunited, we reaffirmed our bond.
I took a trip to Toronto that coincided with Valentine's Day, partially for work and partially for rest. The demands on my time had been overwhelming. A couple of days without deep thinking would give me a clear head. New perspectives on future projects. New ideas for song requests. I was never happier in my professional and personal life.
The trip was mentioned in my last letter. I gave him details of my impending vacation. He insisted on that, ever since LA. Sometimes along with the details of which flight, which hotel, I would add in erotic descriptions. Like how I would have a long hot bath, think of him and try to recreate his touch. Details like that had once gotten me an erotic phone conversation which he conducted from his office at work. It was a pleasant surprise to hear his voice. Not something we chanced too often.
My flight had been delayed and so my ride wasn't able to meet me at the airport or drive me to the hotel. Instead I was met by a chauffeured town car he had arranged. He,was an old friend from school that now owned a couple of restaurant and bars. Somehow he had convinced me to give a semi-private show that night for friends and investors. It was already late afternoon by the time I dropped onto the king size bed of my room. The bedding was so soft I had to force myself up and into the shower.
Divine intervention played a part in my dress that evening. Classic LBD, backless. My legs aren't long but this dress enhanced them. I left my hair down; my make up was dark and dramatic. There was no logical reason for my actions. I was only singing one set as a favour. Still, it instilled a confidence in me. I felt sensual and beautiful. It was barely evening as I made my way out. Hoping to be finished in time for a late supper somewhere.
The pianist that was accompanying let me make each song my own. He gave the basics of the melody and I sang from my heart. As I was performing Sarah Vaughn's 'Thinking of You', my body reacted to a change in the atmosphere of the club. A cold shiver trembled my spine, a flash of intense heat rocketed throughout my body. It took all my concentration to finish the song.
Scanning the crowd amidst the applause, I discovered the reason for my visceral reaction. He stood by the bar, holding a glass of amber. Such was my shock at seeing him that it felt as if I floated over the floor. My hand rose of its own accord and took the glass. The familiar burn brought pleasant warmth with it.
No words needed to be spoken. They would only intrude on the silent world we had created around ourselves. Someone brought me my coat and purse, their words of congratulations lost. My focus was solely on him. My hand felt small tucked securely in his as we exited the bar. And still we did not speak.
I motioned to the chauffeured town car that was mine, courtesy of my friend. He smiled and helped me inside. His only words consisted of an address. I smiled, puzzled. He only leaned in to brush his lips against mine. A promise of things to come. So I rested my head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat that echoed my own.
The address was for a chic new restaurant. Quiet, classic, romantic. Everything I dreamed of having with him on this day but never expecting it. Strawberry spinach salad. Full-bodied Merlot. Moroccan Beef with Couscous. Sweet baklava with strong spiced coffee.
No frivolity tonight. Nothing to shatter this fragile moment in which he was completely mine.
After supper, we found a secluded little blues bar. Wrapped up in each other, the evening passed quickly. My breath quickened at the thought of what lay ahead. He did not disappoint. Neither did I. He showed me affection. I showed him love. No part was left untouched. Mind, body, soul.
In the morning, our world of make believe came to an end. One night was all he was able to give. I acknowledged that with a maturity that comes with being the other woman for so long. That he chose me for Valentines was enough.
Before he left, I timidly gave him the gift I had so agonizingly decided on. Hs face as he opened it would stay with me forever. The quality of the watch, though high, was not why I was suddenly embraced in an unyielding kiss. It was the inscription. Completa, il mio amore.
His grip was tight enough, that I knew marks would be visible tomorrow. They served as proof of our stolen moments. I would cherish them when he was gone.
Our embrace ended with the need for breath. His eyes never left mine as he reached into his jacket pocket. A small blue box lay in the palm of his hand. I took it with a shaking hand and opened it gingerly. Inside, delicately placed, was a platinum and diamond bangle. As I picked it up, the inside revealed an inscription. Completare con voi.
He fastened it on my wrist, knowing it would never come off. Just as I knew the watch would never be worn. It didn't matter. A tender goodbye and he was gone back to Virginia and back to her.
I would like to say that at some point I felt guilt over his marriage. I would like to say that having been one who was cheated on, that I wouldn't inflect that pain on another. But I couldn't say such. He was my other half. I was made whole that first night. Made whole in a way that was sanctioned by higher powers and only a lucky few ever know.
