The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (25 page)

“Great! I was wondering if you could take some photographs for the paper. We’d need them dropped off on Sunday evening.”

“Oh, I’d love to do that but I think I mentioned to you—I don’t have a digital camera. I wouldn’t be able to get the film developed that quickly.”

“No problem. We have a lab on site—just drop off the film and I’ll have one of my technicians develop it.”

I was silent.

“Carolina! Are you still there?”

“Oh, yes. I’m here.”

“Is there a problem?”

“It’s just … what if they’re not good enough? I’d hate for you to be relying on me and…”

He laughed.

“Carolina, it’s a family fun day. I’m sure the snaps will be just fine. We’ll get something usable—we can do a lot with cropping images. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, okay. Thank you! I’m really flattered.”

“Good. That’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He ended the call leaving me puzzled. He was the editor of a weekly paper and he was going to be there on a Sunday evening? Go figure.

Shopping bags filled the trunk of my car, including a jar of chocolate sauce, and I drove home with an unaccustomed smile on my face. It took a while to unload all the extra food I’d bought for the picnic.

But when I went into the bedroom, it looked like a bomb had hit it. With a sigh, I scooped up the sheets lying in a tangled heap on the floor, and wearily stripped the bed. Then I trudged downstairs and loaded them into the machine. I didn’t know that having an affair meant more housework.

And then I remembered David’s damn dress uniform. Muttering bad-temperedly, I shoved it into a plastic bag and drove to the drycleaners.

I nearly fell asleep at the wheel driving back and when I stumbled into the living room, I couldn’t help thinking that the couch looked inviting. Perhaps just five minutes…

My cell phone alerted me that I had a message, waking me from a very interesting dream that involved a shower of chocolate instead of water … and a naked Sebastian.

* Feels like a long day. Missing you.

Can’t wait for later. Did you get chocolate? Sxx *

I smiled and sent a text back.

* Yes to choc. But how slow can you go? *

He replied immediately.

* Let’s find out xx *

I had a huge grin on my face when I flipped my phone shut. But then I glanced at the time and was horrified to see I’d been asleep for more than three hours. I had a mountain of food to prepare for the picnic tomorrow and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be wasting my time doing it while Sebastian was here.

Despite the rude, very rude awakening, I felt better for my extended nap and set to work with a will. I had so much food, I had to drag out some cardboard boxes that I had stashed in the garage and stack it inside. I couldn’t help thinking about the morning Sebastian had come over to help me empty our moving-in crates. It seemed a lifetime ago—I wondered how it seemed to him.

I hunted through the kitchen cupboards for some candles. I’d bought them in case of a power outage—they’d certainly never been used for a romantic interlude with David. I wanted what I’d never had: I wanted tonight to be perfect.

The table looked so pretty, laid with proper linen napkins and decorated with candles and a small posy of flowers that I’d picked in the yard. I headed up to change into the little black dress that Sebastian had helped me choose, and matched it with elegant, suede pumps—I wanted to look beautiful for him.

After I unlocked the kitchen door, I curled up on the couch with a book. I must have fallen asleep again because it was dark when I next looked up. I was shocked to see that it was nearly one o’clock in the morning.
Where was he?

The first thing I did was to check my phone, but there were no messages and no missed calls. Uncertainty vied with panic—had something happened to him or had he just had enough of me? I wondered if I should risk calling him. In the end I decided to send a text—just in case. And it was also our more usual form of communication.

* r u ok? I’m worried. *

I sat on the edge of the couch, anxiously waiting for a reply. When I couldn’t take the tension anymore, I stood up and started pacing.

Another half an hour passed and I still hadn’t heard from him. I was pondering the wisdom of getting in my car and going to look for him when I finally,
finally
heard a soft knock on the door.

I flew into the kitchen, yanked the door open and, to my dismay, I burst into tears when I saw him standing there smiling at me.

“Hey! What’s wrong? I’m sorry I’m late. Don’t cry, Caro. Please don’t cry, baby!”

He held me in his arms, stroking my hair, letting me cry myself out; all the fear and unreasoning anxiety, the stress of having to split myself in half, the intensity of the last three weeks, the hope for more that was so tender and fragile—it all poured out of me.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “I was just so worried. You didn’t answer your phone and I didn’t know how to contact you.”

“We got a flat on the way home,” he said, soothingly. “It took forever for me and Ches to put the new tire on in the dark.”

“I texted you!”

“I couldn’t charge up my phone yesterday—it died on me a few hours ago. I didn’t think it would matter. You were really worried about me?”

I nodded miserably: I felt such a fool getting myself into that state because of a dead phone battery and a flat tire. I wanted to yell,
keep your phone charged, you jerk!
But I didn’t—I was just glad he was here with me and safe.

He wiped my tears away with his fingers.

“I like that you were worried about me,” he said, softly.

He glanced over my shoulder at the kitchen table.

“Is this for me, too?”

I nodded again and tried to smile. “Surprise!” I muttered.

He laughed quietly. “I love it. Thank you. And … you look beautiful, Caro.”

“Red-eyed and hideous is more like it, but thank you for saying so.”

“You always look beautiful to me.”

“Yes, well that must be because you’re wearing those rose-tinted glasses again.”

He sighed and shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was irritated or amused—maybe a bit of both.

“Are you hungry?”

“God, yes! Right now my stomach is thinking that someone cut my throat.”

“They really ought to feed you at work,” I grumbled.

He shrugged. “We were busy. But I’ve got tomorrow off.”

He looked at me expectantly but when he saw my dismayed reaction, his face fell.

“I thought … I just hoped we could spend the day together, but … it’s cool … if you’re busy.”

I swore. He looked surprised; I wasn’t much given to cursing.

“Oh, I wish I’d known! I’ve told Donna I’d go to the family fun day at the beach—you know, the big picnic?”

He scowled. “Can’t you tell her you’ve changed your mind?”

“I wish! But I’ve agreed to take photographs for
City Beat
, too. They’re counting on me. Oh, Sebastian, I’m so sorry! If I’d known you had the day off…”

“It was a last minute thing,” he muttered. “They gave Ches the day off, as well. Probably because so many people will be at the fun day.”

The possibilities presented by being able to spend a whole day alone with Sebastian now drifted through my mind, as substantial and certain as mist.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his chest again.

“There’ll be other days,” I said, my voice sad.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just that every day … every moment with you…”

“…is precious,” I finished the sentence for him.

“Very.”

I kissed him softly. “I’ll go make dinner.”

“I’ll light the candles.”

I was surprised when he pulled a lighter out of his pocket; I’d never seen Sebastian smoke and I’d certainly never smelt tobacco on him. Odd.

I switched off the overhead electric lights so the only illumination in the kitchen was from the candles. The flickering lights threw weird images onto the walls, like some freakish shadow play. A shiver ran through me—someone must have walked over my grave. I shook off the superstitious notion and concentrated instead on the way the candlelight played across Sebastian’s face, highlighting his cheekbones and making his eyes glitter. He smiled up at me and in the dim light, his irises looked coal black. I could lose my train of thought just by looking at him.

I served up the grilled lamb chops and Sebastian ate heartily; I merely picked at my food. I felt resentful of tomorrow’s wasted opportunity and, stupidly, I was letting it spoil this evening, too. I made an effort to pull myself together.

“How was work today?”

“Busy. There was some big golf tournament: a lot of out-of-towners.”

“Any pool-side incidents?”

He laughed as he remembered something.

“Yeah! One of the guests dropped her cell phone in the deep end. I dove down to get it for her.”

“Was she grateful?”

“I think she was more pissed, but she gave me ten bucks … and her cell phone number.”

“You’re kidding me!”
How dare she? Was she pretty? How old was she?

Those were the questions that I couldn’t
ask.

“I mean, how dumb can you get?” continued Sebastian. “She just dumped her damn phone in the pool and that’s the number she gives me!”

“Sebastian,” I said, pointing out the blindingly obvious, at least to me, “the number will still work—she’ll just have to buy a new handset.”

He looked at me.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

He shook his head. “Well, it doesn’t make any difference—I threw her number away.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did!”

He looked annoyed. “I wouldn’t cheat on you, Caro!”

I couldn’t bear to point out the irony in that statement. Instead, I changed the subject.

“Do you want some dessert?”

His expression changed in an instant—from righteous indignation to the most scorching look of lust.

“Chocolate?” His voice was low and seductive.

“I … I made a polenta cake … but I bought chocolate, too.”

He didn’t take his eyes off me and his voice didn’t waver.

“Just the chocolate.”

He stood up, his chair scraping across the kitchen floor, and he held out his hand to me. I took it wordlessly and Sebastian pulled me into his arms, then kissed me until I stopped breathing.

“I want to make love to you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Fuck! I couldn’t think of anything else.” He blinked and his eyes danced with amusement. “People could have been drowning in that pool and I don’t think I’d have noticed.”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, baby!”

Suddenly he scooped me up off the floor and flung me over his shoulder; the surprise made me cry out. He practically ran up the stairs and threw me on the bed. I couldn’t help laughing at his eagerness, at the sheer joy I saw on his face.

“Damn! We forgot the chocolate.”

“No, we didn’t.” I pointed to the bottle of chocolate sauce by the alarm clock and watched his eyes light up.

He twisted the lid and the jar made a soft popping sound as it opened. He stuck his index finger in and pulled it out covered in chocolate. He held it out toward me.

“Suck,” he said.

So I did.

At some point in the night we must have fallen asleep. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, more a sort of acknowledgment of sheer exhaustion.

Waking up was a struggle. My eyes were gritty with tiredness, and my body ached so much, I didn’t know which muscle to favor first.
And there was chocolate everywhere!

Oh, the chocolate! Mmm, that had been good. No, that had been
great
. That had been
fun
.

We’d laughed so much. I couldn’t remember laughing so much, not ever.

And the way we’d explored each other’s body. I remembered again the touch of his fingers; the way his skin warmed against mine; the soft, wet heat of his lips, everywhere. The passion that had smoldered for hours, blazing suddenly into flames that burned.

I rolled over to find his eyes open, a smile of wonder on his face.

We didn’t speak; we just gazed at each other. I think I was smiling, too.

His fingers stroked my arm slowly, rhythmically.

I reached up to rest my hand on his cheek, but he pulled it to his lips and kissed the palm. I nestled into his body and his hand moved down to stroke my bare back.

I listened to the quiet, steady beat of his heart.

“We have to get up,” I said, sadly.

He nodded slowly but neither of us moved.