IN BED WITH THE BOSS

Vivian could do nothing but nod. She couldn’t tell Scott’s mother about their troubles, so she simply gave her a hug and wished her well. “Please tell Sara that I’m very sorry I couldn’t see her before leaving.” she said, and with that she went out of the house. It was only when she got into her car and drove off that she let the tears flow.

________

Vivian spent the evening wandering around her house like a lost soul, unable to settle to anything, and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when her phone began to ring.

She snatched it up when she saw the caller. “Hello?”.

“Vivian”

“Oh, Scott!” She breathed a low sigh of relief, appalled to realize that she had half expected never to hear from him again. But that would have implied a lack of courage on his part, and he was certainly not lacking in courage. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Okay? Scott looked around him, at the luxurious house which was his home. It didn’t feel like home any more. It felt like some gloriously appointed but sterile hotel suite.

He was alone. His family wasn’t with him. No girlfriend had ever meant enough to him for him to want to have her displayed in a silver frame, standing on a piece of furniture.

“I’m fine,” he said heavily.

“You don’t sound fine,” said Vivian.

What did she expect? “I’m tired, I guess.”

“I’m sure you don’t even have any food to eat there.” she said automatically.

“Vivian, I’m a big boy now,” he reminded her softly.

And she wondered whether her nurturing role might have blown all hope away. For a big, strong man like Scott to have been so dependent on a woman- mightn’t that threaten his masculinity? She had seen him at his weakest and most vulnerable and that might make her a thorn in his flesh, niggling away with the thought that for a while she had seen him helpless and stripped away of all defenses.

“Well, I’m glad you’re home safely,” she said guardedly.

“Yes.” There seemed nothing more to say and he felt an immense sense of sadness. “I’ll call you again.”

The words rushed out as she forced herself to say them. “Don’t feel you have to. Only when you’re ready.”

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. She was intelligent enough to know that a series of superficial phone calls would serve no purpose. To either of them. “Take care, Vivian”

“And you.” But this time she really did doubt his words. She put the phone down slowly. Oh, he probably meant them, but she doubted that he would call tomorrow. Or the next day. He would call when he was ready, and that might be when he decided to tell her that it was over. For there could be no going back to how they had been, and no going forward to a future he had never promised her. Which left them in some kind of emotional limbo which was not a good place to be.

But she felt some of her own strength and resolve returning. That night she slept with surprising soundness and awoke refreshed, even though her heart was aching. The responsibility of looking after him and the worry of whether or not he would recover had been more of a strain than she had realized.

She couldn’t mope around the place mourning something that had never been more than a hopeless dream. She needed to move on-that was what the self-help books always told you.

And moving on wasn’t easy when you had little desire to do so. When staying put in an increasingly distant illusion seemed the more preferable option. But she found an inner core of strength and determination and she slowly eased herself back into normal living.

She owed it to herself to do so.

At least she had plenty with which to occupy herself-things which only she could deal with and which she had neglected while she had been caring for Scott.

She had to start looking for another job, and she had to go see Megan and Betty. It had been a while since she’d seen them as she’d been so focused on Scott.

She forced herself to keep busy, and not to hang around the phone like a love-struck schoolgirl. She even went out on her own a couple of times, but her heart wasn’t in it, though as the weeks passed it became easier to sit in a pub with people she knew, and tell herself she was having a good time.

Days passed and there had still been no word from Scott. She was vacillating between calling him some very uncomplimentary names underneath her breath and telling herself that the man was recovering from a major trauma, for heaven’s sake, when her phone rang. Some sixth sense told her that it was him even while experience told her to gear herself up for the inevitable disappointment.

It was a Sunday morning, and the house was utterly peaceful. She was drinking coffee on the balcony when she heard the ringing and she put her cup down. It won’t be him, she said to herself, just as she did every time it rang. But this time it was.

“Vivian?”

Her heart was pounding so loudly that it seemed to deafen her voice and for a moment she could hardly speak.

“Scott!” She put just the right amount of pleased delight to hear him in her voice. Not enough to frighten him away, or to make him think that she wouldn’t be able to cope with whatever he had decided.

And besides, it wasn’t just his decision. She had done a lot of thinking herself. She knew that she needed to be a lot more proactive than she had been before. If Scott was offering a relationship on the same terms as before, then she was going to have to say thanks, but no, thanks. It might temporarily break her heart, but it would have to be done.

Because she was worth more than that. A relationship where you were constantly having to hide the way you felt about someone could never be a truly honest relationship, and Scott had always been a champion of honesty-surely he would understand that?

He thought how distant she sounded. “How are you?”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“I’m all right-more to the question, how are you?”

It struck him how inadequate language could be sometimes. “Better. Much better. Can I come and see you?”

As if he had to ask! But he had asked, and rather formally too-and maybe that meant something. “Of course you can come and see me. When?”

“Are you busy now?” he asked.

“As in right now?” Her heart began to thunder. “I’m eating toast and honey, as it happens-but where are you calling from?”

“My phone of course. I’m already in your street”

And she was still in her dressing-gown!

“Thanks for the warning!”

“I’ll see you in a minute”

He had lost nothing of his cool imperturbability, she noted as she thumped the phone down and ran out to the bathroom, where she washed her face and hands and dragged a hairbrush through her hair. She stared into the mirror. Her naked face made her appear vulnerable, but inside she felt vulnerable. She pulled the dressing gown closer and knotted it tightly.

It was a silken affair of jade, richly embroidered with birds of paradise, and it fell to just below her knees. Far less revealing than a summer’s dress, but underneath it she was naked and that made her feel even more vulnerable.

She heard his car splitting the silence and she walked slowly towards the door, opening it just as he had lifted his hand to knock, and their eyes met in a long moment.

And the last, lingering memory of the man who had lain so desperately ill disappeared once and for all, because it was impossible to connect him with the man who stood before her now.

Scott was back, recovered and virile and heart stoppingly gorgeous. He looked the same and yet he looked different, but maybe that was because he had once been hers to touch and he now seemed untouchable. She desperately wanted to kiss him, but would have no more dared to put her arms around him and do so than she would have shut the door in his face.

“Hello, Scott,” she said softly, amazed at how calm her voice sounded when inside her thoughts were racing.

He had expected to feel displaced when he returned here and his expectation had borne fruit. She looked like some luscious piece of exotic fruit in the embroidered gown, her hair was full and beautiful. Through the satin which clung to her slender body, he could see the curves of breast and hip, the indentation of her waist and the slight swell of her belly.

He thought of the times he had cushioned his head on that belly-an act sometimes more intimate than sex itself-and acknowledged that it seemed as if it had happened in another life.

“Hello, Vivian”