Marie Sexton - Coda 05 - Paris A to Z (16 page)

that seemed to step dangerously close to that empty place inside us both— the place that had been
us
. “I think,” he went on shakily, “it explains a lot.”
His eyes on mine were nervous, and seemed to be begging me for some kind of explanation. I turned away without giving him an answer. It wasnt that I had none to give. It was simply that I was too much of a coward.

A
FTER
a few hours in the Louvre, I was lost and completely overwhelmed. Everything became jumbled, one painting blurring into the next. Even the
Mona Lisa
was a bit of a disappointment. I was relieved when the day was finally over.

Dinner that night was a lot of fun. Unlike restaurants back home, the wait staff didnt rush to bring us our drinks or our food. In fact, they didnt rush to do anything. They also didnt shove the check under anybodys nose the minute they brought dessert. It seemed to be expected that we would linger for hours, and we did.

Cole seemed to feel it was easier to simply order for us, and we had plates and plates of food filling our table. We had both red and white wine.
“I picked a Spanish Gran Reserva for you, Zach,” Cole said. “I know Jonny likes Chianti, but Im sure he can make do.” I found it strange that he knew my favorite wine, and when I looked at Jon, I could see that it embarrassed him. But it sure didnt stop me from drinking the wine.
“This food is amazing,” Matt said, and everybody agreed. Everybody except Jon.
“This is nothing,” he said, smiling at Cole. “We should make Cole cook some night. His cookings even better.”
Cole grinned at him. “You say that every time,” he said, but I could tell he was pleased.
Matt surprised me by getting a bit more drunk than he normally did. He was usually so reserved and in control, but when he was drunk, he was looser. He laughed more. And he let himself touch Jared more. One minute he was talking football with George, and the next thing I knew he

had a handful of Jareds hair and was whispering something into his ear. Next to him, George looked absolutely stunned. He looked over at Jon in surprise.
“You spent the whole day with them,” Jon said in amusement. “You never figured it out.”
“I thought they were friends,” George said.
“We are,” Jared said. “Were just friends who spend a lot of time together naked.” Matt laughed, although he still had his lips on Jareds neck. One of his hands moved to Jareds thigh. He pulled Jareds hair harder and said something else in his ear. Jareds eyes actually drifted shut, and his cheeks started to turn red.
“My goodness, doll,” Cole said, “youre making him blush!”
Matt pulled away from Jared, and although his cheeks were a bit red, he met Coles gaze with a mocking smile. “Are you talking to me?” he asked in a perfect Robert DeNiro impression.
“Who else would I be talking to?”
“Angelo.”
Angelos eyebrows went up in surprise, as did Coles. “Angelos not the one climbing into Jareds lap at the dinner table,” Cole said.
“I know,” Matt said, “but you said „doll, which is Angelo.” He grinned wickedly at Cole. “Im buttercup, remember?”
For a moment, Cole was actually speechless, something I suspected didnt happen very often. His mouth was open, but he seemed to have no idea what to say. And then his entire face seemed to open up—like whatever mask hed been wearing was suddenly gone, revealing something underneath that was bright and unabashedly pleased—and he laughed. His laugh was light and melodious and feminine, but one hundred percent genuine. “Dear lord, you really
do
have a sense of humor! All this time, I thought Jared was making it up!”
“Told you,” Jared said. His cheeks were still a bit red, and I could tell by the way he looked at Matt that he wished Matt was still whispering in his ear.
“Matts cool,” Angelo said to Cole, although he winked over at Matt as he said it. “You just piss him off more than anybody else on the planet, thats all.”
“Ive been assuming all this time you were cranky with
everyone
.
Buttercup
.”
“Nope,” Matt said. “Just you.” It was strange to sit there while they discussed it so matter-of-factly. It was made even more strange by the wolfish grin on Matts face.
Cole seemed to think about that for a minute. Then he stood up from the table. He walked around to where Matt sat. “Excuse me, sweets,” he said as he pushed Jared out of his chair, and pushed the chair out of the way. And then….
He sat down in Matts lap. Matt was obviously surprised, but he wasnt about to let Cole get the upper hand, so he stayed still. Cole put his arms around Matts neck and leaned in close to him. They were practically nose to nose, and I thought for sure that Cole was going to kiss him.
“Oh, buttercup,” he said, “dont you know I was rooting for you all along?”
Matt sat there, completely still, looking stunned as he thought about it, much as Cole had done a few moments before. And suddenly, he threw his head back and burst out laughing. Unlike Coles laugh, Matts was deep and loud, something that came from deep inside his chest and made everyone in the restaurant turn our way. It made Cole smile too. He leaned forward and whispered something in Matts ear, and kissed him on the cheek. Matt was still laughing. And then, in the blink of an eye, Cole was up again, patting Jared on the arm and putting his chair back, and calling to the waiter in French for something (I suspected it was more wine).
“Can you believe it?” Angelo asked me, quiet enough that only I heard. “Never thought Mattd be able to let it go and be Coles friend.”
“It
is
surprising.”
“Surprising? Its crazy! Its like theres somethin bout Paris that makes people want to forgive each other. And be in love. And get married!”
“Youre drunk.”
He laughed. “Maybe,” he said. “But you still have no sense of romanticism.”
He turned away from me then, to ask George a question. Everybody was talking again and laughing. But I was watching Matt and Jared. I saw Jared slide his hand across the table to grip Matts arm. I saw the look he gave him. It was relief and thankfulness. And love. And the look Matt gave him in return was like he was barely managing to keep from jumping Jared right there at the table. And I knew they sure as hell werent going to be fighting that night either.
Maybe Angelo was right. Maybe there was
something
.
I still suspected it was the wine.

T
HE
next morning was Sunday. It was the day of the ceremony and the Super Bowl. There was a knock on our door again around eight. Angelo was in the shower, so I dragged myself out of bed to answer it. It was Jon, wearing his jogging clothes.

And that was how I found myself jogging with my ex along the banks of the Seine on the very morning of his wedding. It was simply too weird for words.

The sky was clear, and the air was crisp and cold. The narrow brick trail was lined with trees on one side and the sparkling river on the other, occasionally passing under arched stone bridges. Majestic white buildings rose on the opposite bank. I wondered what they were. Angelo would have known. Jon might have, too, but I was reluctant to ask.

Even jogging in a place so foreign, everything about it was familiar. The tempo of our feet slapping against the pavement, our breath visible in the frosty air, the line of his shoulders and his back as he jogged in front of me. He had ever been a step or two ahead.

When we were almost back to the hotel, he stopped at a café for a bottle of water. I couldnt help watching him as he drank it. I still found him attractive, although not in the purely exotic way that Angelo was. Jon was more the boy next door, always with his hair well cut and his clothes just right.

Even in the cold morning air, he was sweating from the run, and the dark hair at his temples stuck to his skin. I thought about all the mornings wed returned from runs and fallen into bed together, hot and sweaty and so crazy about each other we could hardly get our clothes off fast enough. We always showered together afterward.

Sweat ran down his neck as he drank half the bottle, and I remembered what it felt like to run my lips up his throat, and the way his Adams apple felt underneath my tongue. I remembered the way he tasted, and the way one hand always gripped my thigh as he pushed into me. I felt my body stir a bit at that thought, and I immediately felt guilty.

“Zach,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. He was holding the bottled water out to me. I took it, feeling myself blush. His eyes on me were incredibly intense, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew what Id been thinking. Even worse, I could feel his eyes on me as I took my drink of water. I couldnt help but wonder what memory jumped into his mind. Was it the way Id kissed him, or the sounds I made when we made love? Or was it the way Id turned away when hed asked me who Id been with the night before?

Id loved him so much.
I almost choked on the water, and I had to fight hard against a sudden lump in my throat. “Are you okay?” he asked. I closed my eyes

and took a deep, shaking breath of air. When I looked at him again, I didnt see desire in his eyes. I didnt see condemnation either. I saw sympathy.

“Zach,” he said, stepping close to me and taking my hand. “It doesnt have to be like this.”
And God help me, at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. I wanted to go back to the hotel and undress him one more time and forget the twelve years that wed lost. But hot on its heels came the guilt.
I closed my eyes, pulling away, stepping backward and almost knocking over some poor old woman walking by.
I hated myself. What I had done to him was bad enough. But how could I even think about going back now? He was about to marry Cole. And I had Angelo. Angelo, who I loved unconditionally. Who loved
me
unconditionally. I would have done anything for him. And yet, for just a moment there, Id forgotten about him completely. Id betrayed him. And the fact that he never had to know about it didnt change a thing.
“Zach?” Jon said, but I turned away. I walked away, and left him there alone. I was relieved when he let me go.