The Girl Who Loves You, An Awaken My Heart Ren & Galen Short Story by Danica Raimz
Copyright 2018 Danica Raimz / Purzelbaum Ventures
Note: Takes place between Jigsaw Hearts and Pieces of You, Pieces of Me
Copyright 2018 Danica Raimz / Purzelbaum Ventures
Note: Takes place between Jigsaw Hearts and Pieces of You, Pieces of Me
A thumping heartbeat sounded from my phone: Galen's ring tone. I answered the call without a word, eyes still glued to the square vase on the left corner of my desk. I couldn't stop looking at the dozen roses, found it so odd that someone had sent them to me, even though I knew the man loved me fully and completely. No, I didn't have any words to express what I felt, but the corners of my mouth would not be tamed.
“Hey,” came his smooth, rich voice. “I'm hoping something made it to your office?”
“Uh-huh,” I finally managed.
“Happy Valentine's Day, Angel Baby.”
I swallowed hard. “I thought you didn't believe in traditional Valentine's gifts.”
“I don't. It's all commercial crap, but--”
“So red. So perfect.” I nearly choked. “You know, this is the first time anyone has ever sent me flowers.”
“Which is why I sent them. Every woman ought to be surprised by the traditional commercial crap once. Besides, I'm giving you my real gift tonight.”
I wiped at a wet cheek, noticed mascara come away on my fingers. Great gods of war, but the man had turned me into a wuss who could tear up in seconds. “Let me guess,” I whispered. “That gift would be you?”
His laugh gave me belly butterflies and had me craving his arms around me. “Now, that's a given, Angel, but no. There's something else.”
“You're spoiling me rotten, Gale. You don't have to—”
“I will forever be spoiling you to make up for the stupid people in your life who ripped away so much from you. And, even if that weren't the case, I'm wildly addicted to making you happy. So deal with it. And by the way—I love the card you stuck in my briefcase. Put it front and center on my desk to ward off any co-workers who might be wanting a piece of this.”
He had me choking through laughter as tears streamed down my face. Finally, I pushed out, “And I loved the card you left me on your pillow. Wish you hadn't had to leave so early for work this morning, but … wait, what's this?”
Intern Rob rested a shoulder on my office door frame. Sheepishly, he held out a huge satin heart. Nobody wants to catch a manager in what must look like a breakdown. “Delivery from Lylah Chocolatiers for you.” Nervously, he joked, “What's next? A singing telegram?”
Gale must have heard him. “Shit. I knew I forgot something.”
I gasped out another laugh, then wiped at my eyes before motioning for Rob to come in. “Thanks.”
Rob smiled as he handed me the heavy candy box, then turned to leave, shaking his head. “Your boyfriend is making this horrible holiday worse for the rest of us single types around here! Some of us have to go home to roommates who do nothing but fart and belch as they watch sports.”
“Sounds like you need a new roommate,” I jabbed.
“That I do!” Rob sighed as he left. And I felt bad for him. After suffering lessons in humility from Carey (my managing editor) and me, Rob had toned down the arrogance quite a bit, and we were beginning to like him. What a foreign feeling to suddenly be an ambassador of Valentine's Day, wishing everyone had someone to share the day with in fun and love.
“Aw, give the poor guy a truffle,” Gale said.
“You remembered I wanted to try Lylah,” I whispered, holding the phone close. “Thank you for making me feel girlie today. And loved. And special.”
“Easy enough, Ren; you're all those things. Listen, instead of coming straight home after work, let me pick you up there and we'll head straight to dinner. I did manage to get a reservation at Harlow's, but it's for 6:30. Then I'll give you your present later at home, and then … well, then I'll give you me.”
“That sounds as delicious as these chocolates look,” I spoke my thoughts as I lifted the candy box lid. “And then some.”
“Well, I am.” Gale's playfully obnoxious tone added to the butterflies. “Delicious and then some.”
“So, Mr. Delicious And Then Some, do you mind if I stop by your office at lunch? I--”
“Can't, Angel. Sorry.” Usually, he sounded more disappointed when he couldn't meet me for lunch.
“Wow. They're really working you hard today.” I tried not to sound disappointed, but all Galen's romantic words and gestures had me needing him on every level right in the middle of the work day.
“I'm not exactly at work,” he said happily.
That threw me. “Well, where are you?”
“I went in early to look over a project proposal that finally came in and had to be turned around. But I left the office by nine.” He sounded so mysterious.
“Why?”
“Has something to do with your present.” He knew he had me curious; I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“You are ever my man of mystery. So, where are you now?”
“Not saying,” he teased. “See you about 5:30.”
***
Galen strolled toward me outside my office building, his breath visible in the frosty air. Tousled waves landing on the collar of of his wool top coat, a five o'clock shadow sweeping across his strong jawline...the man couldn't help but represent the finest of men Manhattan had to offer. His smile grew bigger the closer he got, almost as if overcome with shyness.
“What?” I giggled when he fully wrapped both arms around me tight and lifted me off my feet. I nuzzled my cheek against his wool coat, feeling as if home was right there on the sidewalk between two sets of revolving doors as long as his arms stayed around me. “Are you nervous or something?” I really didn't need to ask—this close, he actually radiated an uncharacteristic shyness. Weird.
He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me against his chest. “Maybe.”
I pulled back a bit and I found his hazel eyes, gold and green and on the verge of laughter under the streetlights. I sprang up on my toes and kissed his cheek, hard. “Why would you be twitchy?”
It wasn't 'us' to be shy around each other. Yet, I felt it, too. This was the guy I had come to consider my best friend in under three months. I had moved in with him about a month ago—another unthinkable leap of trust for me. I mean, Gale was my re-introduction to the girl I had left behind in my teen years. He offered new experiences such as hiking, science fiction films, and building a relationship with a person who was never short of selfless acts. He indulged my new hopes and dreams and helped ward off my fears. When the therapist I started seeing after the bloody attack at his home in the Catskills couldn't get me to speak a word about my bizarre childhood, he came with me for three sessions until I felt comfortable enough. He was my greatest cheerleader, and I wanted nothing more than to cheer him on in whatever direction he planned to take his career—as soon as he figured that out. And physically? Two people as intimate as us had no excuse for shyness.
Gale shook his head slowly. “Actually, I think I'm more bewildered than anything else. This is the first time I have taken this silly holiday seriously. I'm caught up in it. By the time midnight rolls around, I want you to feel like the most loved woman on the planet.”
“What if I already do?” I locked my hands together behind his back, relished his warmth.
“Then you're in for overkill. You ain't seen nothing yet. Ready to go eat?”
As much as I wanted to go to dinner, I couldn't bring myself to move. I reached up to kiss him again, but faltered on my toes and only reached his chin. “You smell so good,” I commented, then reached for the gray knot of his tie peeking out from the top of his coat. I straightened it, then smoothed the suit jacket lapels surrounding it.
“Showering will do that,” he mumbled before taking my mouth with his. It was a short kiss, but he pulled away reluctantly. “Cab is waiting. We should go.” He grabbed for my hand and before I knew it, I had to hustle to keep up with his long strides toward the street.
“So, wait,” I said.
He snapped his head around and his hair fell into his smiling eyes. “What?”
“You had time to leave wherever you were to go home and shower? And you still did the whole suit and tie deal?”
He held open the cab door and laughed as I climbed in. “Angel,” he said. “We're going to spend so much time upstate helping Corinne build her gallery that I figured you'll see Mountain Man Gale enough. Thought a classy guy should take you out tonight.”
“I love classy Gale.” I fastened my seat belt, then reached for his hand. “But I love hillbilly boy just as much.”
“The Harlow, please. West 18th Street location,” Gale told the cabbie.
I toyed with his fingers as the cab pulled away from the curb, so excited that I didn't know what to do with myself. Like Gale, I never thought I would be this delirious about a holiday I had written off as ridiculous for years.
Suddenly, Gale shot me a look. “Wait … Hillbilly?” he exclaimed, then leaned over to bite my jaw. “Watch it or Cave Man Gale will make an appearance.”
“Mmm … do I get him later tonight?” I ran a finger over his bottom lip.
“Careful,” he smirked. “It's all fun and games until Gale loosens his tie. I'm not responsible for what happens after that.”
I tugged at his hair, glad he hadn't tied it back as he sometimes does for work. “Hmm … so are you saying I am in danger of Cave Man Gale showing up tonight?”
“I don't know.” He bit my jaw again and whispered, “How did you feel the other night when he threw you naked over the armrest of the sofa and came at you from behind?”
“Mr. Zabriese, a classy gentlemen would never do such things!” I giggled.
“Well, it's a good thing being classy is just my day job then.” This was the Galen I knew: sexy-sweet, overly bold, and never at a loss for ways to tease me. The light in his eyes flickered randomly as the cab ran up to and past the city lights. He was staring at me and suddenly I felt shy again. Galen wasn't an empath like me, still I knew he could feel the odd emotion wash over me. He reached up and brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “So beautiful. And so there's no mistake, you bring out the classy guy, the free-wheeling country boy, the caveman, and the lovesick sap all at once.”
***
“I cannot believe I brought you to one of the best steak houses in Manhattan and you ordered the roast vegetable curry with me!” Gale laughed for the umpteenth time as he unlocked the apartment door.
“Hey. Was it not good?” I punched him in the shoulder as he led us into the living room.
“It was fantastic, but--”
“Sorry, not sorry! It sounded as delicious as it turned out. Really, I loved it,” I gushed. “And that baked Alaska for dessert? That was just—Hey, I think I smell paint?”
“I think I've influenced someone into going vegetarian!” Gale sing-songed.
I hung up my coat and kicked off my taupe pumps. “Oh, that'll be the day! Sorry, bub. Not happening.”
Gale pulled me close with one arm and leaned forward, arching my back. “We'll see. Now, Angel Baby, your present awaits.”
But that wasn't meant to happen right away, because I simply had to grab his stubbly jaw and pull his mouth to mine first. Galen groaned with desire and impatience all at once; he knew this wouldn't end with a quick kiss. Whenever we were alone, one kiss rarely ever did. One moment we were standing in the center of the room, the next, I was straddling his lap on the sofa, our tongues tangled together amid remnants of chocolate martinis.
Gale's big hands ran up and down the fronts of my thighs from my knees on up beneath my skirt. The friction added to the heat building inside me, and I couldn't help but shift to seat myself directly over his--
“Whoa, Angel!” Gale breathed when I let out a moan for more of him. “Presents first. Then we'll take this to the bedroom. 'Kay?”
“Want you,” I pouted.
“For just a quickie?” He grabbed my jaw as his eyes bore into mine. In hungry fascination, I watched as his lips lapsed into a seductive grin. “Or do you want to indulge in each other all night long? 'Cause I'm perfectly content to walk into work tomorrow completely delirious from lack of sleep.”
Reluctantly, I shifted off his lap and stood to readjust my skirt, fidgeting in my suddenly-uncomfortable panties. But he was right; better to have one long night of bliss. And wow, how Galen could make a night go on forever. My legs grew weak with the thought.
“So, listen.” He stood and dropped his hands on my shoulders. “What I got you is all about making sure you know how happy I am to have you here. No matter how quick we moved in together, I want to make sure that … that you know I'm insanely happy to have you on top of me--” He quirked a grin. “Well, you know I love you on top of me, but I mean figuratively. As in being on top of each other all the time in a not-so-big apartment....” His dimples popped into another laugh. “As in tripping over each other in the kitchen trying to wolf down food before work, fighting to be first to get in the bathroom.... What I mean is, I love sharing this place with you. Come....”
He took my hand and walked us down the corridor to his den. With a deep breath, he opened the door and nudged me into the room before him.
Involuntarily, my hands rose to cover my nose and mouth. Where the walls had been eggshell all the way around, two were freshly painted a muted, dusty lavender. A white credenza desk sat along the longer wall, directly across from Galen's more masculine set-up of a cherry-wood computer desk and matching book cases. Atop the credenza's work area, an adjustable plane had been raised halfway—a standing option for when I grew tired of typing from the snow-white cushioned swivel chair. Some of the books I hadn't unpacked yet sat on the shelves along with a beautiful set of natural-wood desk accessories. Alongside the desk unit, an array of white haphazard shelves floated on the wall, contrasting beautifully with the paint. Track lighting secured to the ceiling held tiny adjustable steel fixtures.
“Gale?”
“Like it?” he squeezed my shoulder. “I know the two sides of the room clash a bit, but one side is all you, one is all me. I wanted you to have your own space … but right near me. You know? I actually like working on things near each other even if we don't speak a word for hours.”
My eyes stung and fell upon a selfie photo we took hiking, which hung above the desk in a crisp, simple 8x10 white frame. Beside it, in a complementary wire-wrought frame, an article I had written on surrealist painter Vi Callahane. It was the one Galen had said impressed him most, long before he had met me.
I reached one foot out to feel the plush lavender-and-white striped area rug running between the two sides of the room.
“I … Gale ...”
“Oh, no, no, no--” He pulled me into his arms, hugged me tight. “Not supposed to cry.”
I did anyway, onto his shirt, his tie....
His hand came between us to tilt my chin so he could see my eyes. “I'm thinking you like it.”
“You are so absurdly good to me,” I hiccuped.
“Hey. You're a writer. You need a better option than camping out on the kitchen counter or the living room floor with your laptop. And look....” he waved a hand at the walls. “Plenty of place for photos we take in Galapagos in a week and a half.”
“I don't know how you managed to do all this in one day,” I marveled.
Galen the Gallant beamed with satisfaction. “I've been ordering things for it for weeks right under your nose. But I couldn't paint before today or you would've asked questions.”
“I love it so much. And you chose a purple-ish hue.”
“Purple inspires creativity. At least, that's what you told me.”
“Well, I sure think so.” I threw my arms around his neck and stretched up to kiss him. “Thank you, so much. You really are one surprise after another. I can't wait to work in here.”
“Still wish we had a window, but one day we'll have the place of our dreams. This is the place where we'll work toward that. Sound good?”
“Perfect.” I kissed him again. “Now, it's my turn. Come into the bedroom.”
Gale bit his lip and yanked his tie loose. “Loving the sound of this already.”
“Not exactly.”
He pouted, then followed me into the bedroom.
“Hey. You could've gotten some back in the living room, guy, but--”
“Yeah, yeah. Listen, you promised me you wouldn't do anything crazy. After tickets to Galapagos for Christmas, really …”
“I didn't go crazy. Well, not money-wise, anyway. Sit.” I pointed to the bed, then dipped into the closet we shared.
“I think you're leading me on here, Angel!” Galen called to me. “I just know you're coming out of there in some red thong thing made of lace.”
I had to laugh. I did indeed have something like that at the ready for the evening, complete with a matching bra that quite frankly, begged to be called a bra. “Not so fast, Cave Man.”
“Oh, please. Baby, you're probably as wet as the paint and dying to be rid of your panties.”
A package wrapped in paper that oozed traditional Valentine's Day was in my hands when I left the closet. I dropped it on his lap. “You just worry about this first, Mister Panty Expert. Open with care,” I joked. “Very sensitive material inside.”
His eyes narrowed, intrigued. Just as he moved to unwrap it, I stopped him.
“Wait. Listen, this is kind of a weird gift. I just hope you understand where it's coming from.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't get far.
“No, that's stupid. You'll get exactly where it's coming from. You're you. It just feels so--”
He reached out a hand and pulled me over to sit beside him on the bed. “What?” All his joking aside, he searched my face for what I wasn't revealing.
“You know how you are always sharing pieces of your past with me because you want me to know you through and through and how I can't really do the same for you?”
“Yeah....”
“You've shown me your baby pictures, life event videos, taken me to your old high school, to your Dad's grave, and introduced me to friends who have known you forever. You played your trombone from junior high band for me, pointed out where you took your road test, and I even know exactly where you kissed a girl for the first time.”
Gale waggled his brow. “Maybe I'm just a complete narcissist.”
“I'm sure that's part of it,” I said dryly. “So remember that locked box I told you I don't open. The one Rose told me I'm supposed to open at some point as a milestone in therapy?”
“Yeah,” he said and grabbed a few of my fingers.
“I didn't tell Rose yet, but … I opened it. Not because I wanted to for me, but because it's not fair that you don't get to have visuals about my life. It's time you knew Ren Hayden before her life went to pieces, after, and in between. At least through whatever photos I was able to salvage before Seth's mother trashed so many.”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times before simply saying, “Okay, then.”
The paper came off slowly, almost reverently, revealing a turquoise faux–leather-bound album with my Doorways column portrait in the center. The title? The Girl Who Loves You. With an appreciative smirk, Gale whispered, “Is the picture there so I know which girl?”
I punched him in the ribs.
“Ow. Well, it certainly couldn't be you, then.” He opened the cover to be met with the first photo of me ever. All the teasing, sarcasm, silliness completely melted off his face, replaced by the sweetest expression I've ever seen on anyone. It was just another newborn hospital photo, but not to Gale.
“Oh my god, Ren. How beautiful were you on day one?”
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“Just six pounds, two ounces? Seventeen inches long? So tiny!” He kissed my head.
“Three weeks early.”
“An overachiever from the start.” He bumped up against me.
“Yeah, that's me,” I said. Then, “Don't read all the captions now. I want you to do that when you're alone, okay?”
He nodded and turned to the first spread, which held toddler and preschooler shots that made him bust out laughing. “You were so freakin' cute! No wonder you're still insanely adorable. You can't out grow that much cuteness.” Gently, he grabbed a fistful of hair at the side of my head.
“What are you doing?” I tried pulling away.
“I'm loving the pigtails. Wondering how they would look now! And … oh, wow. Well, that settles it: we really are meant to be together.”
“Okaaay....”
“We had the same tricycle.” He pointed to a picture of me sitting on the concrete of my old Queens street beside my trike. “It's from that expensive German company. Dax … he was just my little cousin at the time, destroyed mine after it was handed down to him.”
“No wonder you two fight,” I said dryly. I glanced up at him and saw his eyes shifting back and forth over the caption beneath the trike photo. It read, I can't remember the happy feeling I must have had at this point in my life. And I couldn't know the hell awaiting me down the road. Likewise, I couldn't know how beautiful life would become after all that … after meeting you and taking a brand new path..
“Hey. Captions later, bub,” I reminded him.
He squeezed my waist and flipped the page. “And look at the girlie little dresses! My Ren wearing princess print.”
“I think my mom loved dressing me up.” I reached over and turned another page. “That's her. And that's her with my Dad. I was still a baby then.”
“Damn, but they look so happy, don't they?” Gale said thoughtfully. “You get your beauty from her, don't you?”
I shrugged. “Her eyes were brown, though. My father's were blue.”
The pages turned and turned, displaying the typical happy snapshots most people take when they are a young family. Slowly though, they changed.
“Wow.” Gale flipped back and forth between the bright-eyed happy man with my mother and a rather depressed one sitting in front of a Christmas tree. “Same body, two very different men.”
I nodded. “It was just Dad and me at that point. Before Seth and his mother showed up. Look,” I pointed to an adjacent picture of Dad and me standing on the beach in summer clothes, rolling waves at our backs. “We did have a few happy moments after my mother died.”
Suddenly, a new family portrait was before us: My father, me, Seth, Seth's mother. At the sight, Gale's arm snaked around my waist. “The light is suddenly gone from your eyes in this shot. And shit, but Seth looks depraved.”
“We still hated each other at that point. I put all these pictures away in the locked box maybe a year after this was taken … after I caught Seth's mother throwing out pictures of my mother and of me.”
Gale pulled me closer and flipped another page. It was a close-up shot of a page of text.
“That's the first story I ever wrote simply because I wanted to … not for a school assignment or something. Fiction, though. I was maybe ten? You can read that later.”
“I will, Baby,” he whispered, then kissed my cheek. He continued to flip through scans of report cards, school music programs, and finally, high school graduation shots—selfies all of them. Seth stood beside me in one, looking like he'd rather eat moldy burgers than pose for a photo with me.
“He looks thrilled,” Gale pointed out. A brief wave of disdain wafted over to me. Gale didn't like anyone treating me anything less than wonderfully—even if it happened years ago.
“He was proud of me that day. I know that,” I found myself defending Seth. “He just hated taking part in anything chummy like a photo. Wasn't his style.”
The last photo was of me and Galen radiating happiness last Christmas after he gave me the beautiful promise ring I never take off.
“Damn, but I love this Girl Who Loves Me.” Galen closed the book, then rubbed his nose against mine. He set the album beside us, then kissed my mouth sweetly, gently. “Thank you for letting me into your current life … and now into your past.”
His sincerity burned so deep, I didn't know what to say. So I whispered, “And if you're lucky, I'll let you into my pants now—after I change into something more comfortable.” I moved to get off the bed, but Gale held me next to him and shook his head.
“Surprise me with whatever more comfortable thing you're talking about on another night.” He kissed me again, harder. “I want you now, right now.”
And he so did. Desire for me came off him in beautiful, soulful waves, and the moment his mouth covered mine again, I knew our impending night of passion had begun and neither of us would be leaving the bed for hours. I also knew I loved Galen Zabriese more than I could love anyone or anything ever again.
--The End--
“Hey,” came his smooth, rich voice. “I'm hoping something made it to your office?”
“Uh-huh,” I finally managed.
“Happy Valentine's Day, Angel Baby.”
I swallowed hard. “I thought you didn't believe in traditional Valentine's gifts.”
“I don't. It's all commercial crap, but--”
“So red. So perfect.” I nearly choked. “You know, this is the first time anyone has ever sent me flowers.”
“Which is why I sent them. Every woman ought to be surprised by the traditional commercial crap once. Besides, I'm giving you my real gift tonight.”
I wiped at a wet cheek, noticed mascara come away on my fingers. Great gods of war, but the man had turned me into a wuss who could tear up in seconds. “Let me guess,” I whispered. “That gift would be you?”
His laugh gave me belly butterflies and had me craving his arms around me. “Now, that's a given, Angel, but no. There's something else.”
“You're spoiling me rotten, Gale. You don't have to—”
“I will forever be spoiling you to make up for the stupid people in your life who ripped away so much from you. And, even if that weren't the case, I'm wildly addicted to making you happy. So deal with it. And by the way—I love the card you stuck in my briefcase. Put it front and center on my desk to ward off any co-workers who might be wanting a piece of this.”
He had me choking through laughter as tears streamed down my face. Finally, I pushed out, “And I loved the card you left me on your pillow. Wish you hadn't had to leave so early for work this morning, but … wait, what's this?”
Intern Rob rested a shoulder on my office door frame. Sheepishly, he held out a huge satin heart. Nobody wants to catch a manager in what must look like a breakdown. “Delivery from Lylah Chocolatiers for you.” Nervously, he joked, “What's next? A singing telegram?”
Gale must have heard him. “Shit. I knew I forgot something.”
I gasped out another laugh, then wiped at my eyes before motioning for Rob to come in. “Thanks.”
Rob smiled as he handed me the heavy candy box, then turned to leave, shaking his head. “Your boyfriend is making this horrible holiday worse for the rest of us single types around here! Some of us have to go home to roommates who do nothing but fart and belch as they watch sports.”
“Sounds like you need a new roommate,” I jabbed.
“That I do!” Rob sighed as he left. And I felt bad for him. After suffering lessons in humility from Carey (my managing editor) and me, Rob had toned down the arrogance quite a bit, and we were beginning to like him. What a foreign feeling to suddenly be an ambassador of Valentine's Day, wishing everyone had someone to share the day with in fun and love.
“Aw, give the poor guy a truffle,” Gale said.
“You remembered I wanted to try Lylah,” I whispered, holding the phone close. “Thank you for making me feel girlie today. And loved. And special.”
“Easy enough, Ren; you're all those things. Listen, instead of coming straight home after work, let me pick you up there and we'll head straight to dinner. I did manage to get a reservation at Harlow's, but it's for 6:30. Then I'll give you your present later at home, and then … well, then I'll give you me.”
“That sounds as delicious as these chocolates look,” I spoke my thoughts as I lifted the candy box lid. “And then some.”
“Well, I am.” Gale's playfully obnoxious tone added to the butterflies. “Delicious and then some.”
“So, Mr. Delicious And Then Some, do you mind if I stop by your office at lunch? I--”
“Can't, Angel. Sorry.” Usually, he sounded more disappointed when he couldn't meet me for lunch.
“Wow. They're really working you hard today.” I tried not to sound disappointed, but all Galen's romantic words and gestures had me needing him on every level right in the middle of the work day.
“I'm not exactly at work,” he said happily.
That threw me. “Well, where are you?”
“I went in early to look over a project proposal that finally came in and had to be turned around. But I left the office by nine.” He sounded so mysterious.
“Why?”
“Has something to do with your present.” He knew he had me curious; I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“You are ever my man of mystery. So, where are you now?”
“Not saying,” he teased. “See you about 5:30.”
***
Galen strolled toward me outside my office building, his breath visible in the frosty air. Tousled waves landing on the collar of of his wool top coat, a five o'clock shadow sweeping across his strong jawline...the man couldn't help but represent the finest of men Manhattan had to offer. His smile grew bigger the closer he got, almost as if overcome with shyness.
“What?” I giggled when he fully wrapped both arms around me tight and lifted me off my feet. I nuzzled my cheek against his wool coat, feeling as if home was right there on the sidewalk between two sets of revolving doors as long as his arms stayed around me. “Are you nervous or something?” I really didn't need to ask—this close, he actually radiated an uncharacteristic shyness. Weird.
He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me against his chest. “Maybe.”
I pulled back a bit and I found his hazel eyes, gold and green and on the verge of laughter under the streetlights. I sprang up on my toes and kissed his cheek, hard. “Why would you be twitchy?”
It wasn't 'us' to be shy around each other. Yet, I felt it, too. This was the guy I had come to consider my best friend in under three months. I had moved in with him about a month ago—another unthinkable leap of trust for me. I mean, Gale was my re-introduction to the girl I had left behind in my teen years. He offered new experiences such as hiking, science fiction films, and building a relationship with a person who was never short of selfless acts. He indulged my new hopes and dreams and helped ward off my fears. When the therapist I started seeing after the bloody attack at his home in the Catskills couldn't get me to speak a word about my bizarre childhood, he came with me for three sessions until I felt comfortable enough. He was my greatest cheerleader, and I wanted nothing more than to cheer him on in whatever direction he planned to take his career—as soon as he figured that out. And physically? Two people as intimate as us had no excuse for shyness.
Gale shook his head slowly. “Actually, I think I'm more bewildered than anything else. This is the first time I have taken this silly holiday seriously. I'm caught up in it. By the time midnight rolls around, I want you to feel like the most loved woman on the planet.”
“What if I already do?” I locked my hands together behind his back, relished his warmth.
“Then you're in for overkill. You ain't seen nothing yet. Ready to go eat?”
As much as I wanted to go to dinner, I couldn't bring myself to move. I reached up to kiss him again, but faltered on my toes and only reached his chin. “You smell so good,” I commented, then reached for the gray knot of his tie peeking out from the top of his coat. I straightened it, then smoothed the suit jacket lapels surrounding it.
“Showering will do that,” he mumbled before taking my mouth with his. It was a short kiss, but he pulled away reluctantly. “Cab is waiting. We should go.” He grabbed for my hand and before I knew it, I had to hustle to keep up with his long strides toward the street.
“So, wait,” I said.
He snapped his head around and his hair fell into his smiling eyes. “What?”
“You had time to leave wherever you were to go home and shower? And you still did the whole suit and tie deal?”
He held open the cab door and laughed as I climbed in. “Angel,” he said. “We're going to spend so much time upstate helping Corinne build her gallery that I figured you'll see Mountain Man Gale enough. Thought a classy guy should take you out tonight.”
“I love classy Gale.” I fastened my seat belt, then reached for his hand. “But I love hillbilly boy just as much.”
“The Harlow, please. West 18th Street location,” Gale told the cabbie.
I toyed with his fingers as the cab pulled away from the curb, so excited that I didn't know what to do with myself. Like Gale, I never thought I would be this delirious about a holiday I had written off as ridiculous for years.
Suddenly, Gale shot me a look. “Wait … Hillbilly?” he exclaimed, then leaned over to bite my jaw. “Watch it or Cave Man Gale will make an appearance.”
“Mmm … do I get him later tonight?” I ran a finger over his bottom lip.
“Careful,” he smirked. “It's all fun and games until Gale loosens his tie. I'm not responsible for what happens after that.”
I tugged at his hair, glad he hadn't tied it back as he sometimes does for work. “Hmm … so are you saying I am in danger of Cave Man Gale showing up tonight?”
“I don't know.” He bit my jaw again and whispered, “How did you feel the other night when he threw you naked over the armrest of the sofa and came at you from behind?”
“Mr. Zabriese, a classy gentlemen would never do such things!” I giggled.
“Well, it's a good thing being classy is just my day job then.” This was the Galen I knew: sexy-sweet, overly bold, and never at a loss for ways to tease me. The light in his eyes flickered randomly as the cab ran up to and past the city lights. He was staring at me and suddenly I felt shy again. Galen wasn't an empath like me, still I knew he could feel the odd emotion wash over me. He reached up and brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “So beautiful. And so there's no mistake, you bring out the classy guy, the free-wheeling country boy, the caveman, and the lovesick sap all at once.”
***
“I cannot believe I brought you to one of the best steak houses in Manhattan and you ordered the roast vegetable curry with me!” Gale laughed for the umpteenth time as he unlocked the apartment door.
“Hey. Was it not good?” I punched him in the shoulder as he led us into the living room.
“It was fantastic, but--”
“Sorry, not sorry! It sounded as delicious as it turned out. Really, I loved it,” I gushed. “And that baked Alaska for dessert? That was just—Hey, I think I smell paint?”
“I think I've influenced someone into going vegetarian!” Gale sing-songed.
I hung up my coat and kicked off my taupe pumps. “Oh, that'll be the day! Sorry, bub. Not happening.”
Gale pulled me close with one arm and leaned forward, arching my back. “We'll see. Now, Angel Baby, your present awaits.”
But that wasn't meant to happen right away, because I simply had to grab his stubbly jaw and pull his mouth to mine first. Galen groaned with desire and impatience all at once; he knew this wouldn't end with a quick kiss. Whenever we were alone, one kiss rarely ever did. One moment we were standing in the center of the room, the next, I was straddling his lap on the sofa, our tongues tangled together amid remnants of chocolate martinis.
Gale's big hands ran up and down the fronts of my thighs from my knees on up beneath my skirt. The friction added to the heat building inside me, and I couldn't help but shift to seat myself directly over his--
“Whoa, Angel!” Gale breathed when I let out a moan for more of him. “Presents first. Then we'll take this to the bedroom. 'Kay?”
“Want you,” I pouted.
“For just a quickie?” He grabbed my jaw as his eyes bore into mine. In hungry fascination, I watched as his lips lapsed into a seductive grin. “Or do you want to indulge in each other all night long? 'Cause I'm perfectly content to walk into work tomorrow completely delirious from lack of sleep.”
Reluctantly, I shifted off his lap and stood to readjust my skirt, fidgeting in my suddenly-uncomfortable panties. But he was right; better to have one long night of bliss. And wow, how Galen could make a night go on forever. My legs grew weak with the thought.
“So, listen.” He stood and dropped his hands on my shoulders. “What I got you is all about making sure you know how happy I am to have you here. No matter how quick we moved in together, I want to make sure that … that you know I'm insanely happy to have you on top of me--” He quirked a grin. “Well, you know I love you on top of me, but I mean figuratively. As in being on top of each other all the time in a not-so-big apartment....” His dimples popped into another laugh. “As in tripping over each other in the kitchen trying to wolf down food before work, fighting to be first to get in the bathroom.... What I mean is, I love sharing this place with you. Come....”
He took my hand and walked us down the corridor to his den. With a deep breath, he opened the door and nudged me into the room before him.
Involuntarily, my hands rose to cover my nose and mouth. Where the walls had been eggshell all the way around, two were freshly painted a muted, dusty lavender. A white credenza desk sat along the longer wall, directly across from Galen's more masculine set-up of a cherry-wood computer desk and matching book cases. Atop the credenza's work area, an adjustable plane had been raised halfway—a standing option for when I grew tired of typing from the snow-white cushioned swivel chair. Some of the books I hadn't unpacked yet sat on the shelves along with a beautiful set of natural-wood desk accessories. Alongside the desk unit, an array of white haphazard shelves floated on the wall, contrasting beautifully with the paint. Track lighting secured to the ceiling held tiny adjustable steel fixtures.
“Gale?”
“Like it?” he squeezed my shoulder. “I know the two sides of the room clash a bit, but one side is all you, one is all me. I wanted you to have your own space … but right near me. You know? I actually like working on things near each other even if we don't speak a word for hours.”
My eyes stung and fell upon a selfie photo we took hiking, which hung above the desk in a crisp, simple 8x10 white frame. Beside it, in a complementary wire-wrought frame, an article I had written on surrealist painter Vi Callahane. It was the one Galen had said impressed him most, long before he had met me.
I reached one foot out to feel the plush lavender-and-white striped area rug running between the two sides of the room.
“I … Gale ...”
“Oh, no, no, no--” He pulled me into his arms, hugged me tight. “Not supposed to cry.”
I did anyway, onto his shirt, his tie....
His hand came between us to tilt my chin so he could see my eyes. “I'm thinking you like it.”
“You are so absurdly good to me,” I hiccuped.
“Hey. You're a writer. You need a better option than camping out on the kitchen counter or the living room floor with your laptop. And look....” he waved a hand at the walls. “Plenty of place for photos we take in Galapagos in a week and a half.”
“I don't know how you managed to do all this in one day,” I marveled.
Galen the Gallant beamed with satisfaction. “I've been ordering things for it for weeks right under your nose. But I couldn't paint before today or you would've asked questions.”
“I love it so much. And you chose a purple-ish hue.”
“Purple inspires creativity. At least, that's what you told me.”
“Well, I sure think so.” I threw my arms around his neck and stretched up to kiss him. “Thank you, so much. You really are one surprise after another. I can't wait to work in here.”
“Still wish we had a window, but one day we'll have the place of our dreams. This is the place where we'll work toward that. Sound good?”
“Perfect.” I kissed him again. “Now, it's my turn. Come into the bedroom.”
Gale bit his lip and yanked his tie loose. “Loving the sound of this already.”
“Not exactly.”
He pouted, then followed me into the bedroom.
“Hey. You could've gotten some back in the living room, guy, but--”
“Yeah, yeah. Listen, you promised me you wouldn't do anything crazy. After tickets to Galapagos for Christmas, really …”
“I didn't go crazy. Well, not money-wise, anyway. Sit.” I pointed to the bed, then dipped into the closet we shared.
“I think you're leading me on here, Angel!” Galen called to me. “I just know you're coming out of there in some red thong thing made of lace.”
I had to laugh. I did indeed have something like that at the ready for the evening, complete with a matching bra that quite frankly, begged to be called a bra. “Not so fast, Cave Man.”
“Oh, please. Baby, you're probably as wet as the paint and dying to be rid of your panties.”
A package wrapped in paper that oozed traditional Valentine's Day was in my hands when I left the closet. I dropped it on his lap. “You just worry about this first, Mister Panty Expert. Open with care,” I joked. “Very sensitive material inside.”
His eyes narrowed, intrigued. Just as he moved to unwrap it, I stopped him.
“Wait. Listen, this is kind of a weird gift. I just hope you understand where it's coming from.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't get far.
“No, that's stupid. You'll get exactly where it's coming from. You're you. It just feels so--”
He reached out a hand and pulled me over to sit beside him on the bed. “What?” All his joking aside, he searched my face for what I wasn't revealing.
“You know how you are always sharing pieces of your past with me because you want me to know you through and through and how I can't really do the same for you?”
“Yeah....”
“You've shown me your baby pictures, life event videos, taken me to your old high school, to your Dad's grave, and introduced me to friends who have known you forever. You played your trombone from junior high band for me, pointed out where you took your road test, and I even know exactly where you kissed a girl for the first time.”
Gale waggled his brow. “Maybe I'm just a complete narcissist.”
“I'm sure that's part of it,” I said dryly. “So remember that locked box I told you I don't open. The one Rose told me I'm supposed to open at some point as a milestone in therapy?”
“Yeah,” he said and grabbed a few of my fingers.
“I didn't tell Rose yet, but … I opened it. Not because I wanted to for me, but because it's not fair that you don't get to have visuals about my life. It's time you knew Ren Hayden before her life went to pieces, after, and in between. At least through whatever photos I was able to salvage before Seth's mother trashed so many.”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times before simply saying, “Okay, then.”
The paper came off slowly, almost reverently, revealing a turquoise faux–leather-bound album with my Doorways column portrait in the center. The title? The Girl Who Loves You. With an appreciative smirk, Gale whispered, “Is the picture there so I know which girl?”
I punched him in the ribs.
“Ow. Well, it certainly couldn't be you, then.” He opened the cover to be met with the first photo of me ever. All the teasing, sarcasm, silliness completely melted off his face, replaced by the sweetest expression I've ever seen on anyone. It was just another newborn hospital photo, but not to Gale.
“Oh my god, Ren. How beautiful were you on day one?”
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“Just six pounds, two ounces? Seventeen inches long? So tiny!” He kissed my head.
“Three weeks early.”
“An overachiever from the start.” He bumped up against me.
“Yeah, that's me,” I said. Then, “Don't read all the captions now. I want you to do that when you're alone, okay?”
He nodded and turned to the first spread, which held toddler and preschooler shots that made him bust out laughing. “You were so freakin' cute! No wonder you're still insanely adorable. You can't out grow that much cuteness.” Gently, he grabbed a fistful of hair at the side of my head.
“What are you doing?” I tried pulling away.
“I'm loving the pigtails. Wondering how they would look now! And … oh, wow. Well, that settles it: we really are meant to be together.”
“Okaaay....”
“We had the same tricycle.” He pointed to a picture of me sitting on the concrete of my old Queens street beside my trike. “It's from that expensive German company. Dax … he was just my little cousin at the time, destroyed mine after it was handed down to him.”
“No wonder you two fight,” I said dryly. I glanced up at him and saw his eyes shifting back and forth over the caption beneath the trike photo. It read, I can't remember the happy feeling I must have had at this point in my life. And I couldn't know the hell awaiting me down the road. Likewise, I couldn't know how beautiful life would become after all that … after meeting you and taking a brand new path..
“Hey. Captions later, bub,” I reminded him.
He squeezed my waist and flipped the page. “And look at the girlie little dresses! My Ren wearing princess print.”
“I think my mom loved dressing me up.” I reached over and turned another page. “That's her. And that's her with my Dad. I was still a baby then.”
“Damn, but they look so happy, don't they?” Gale said thoughtfully. “You get your beauty from her, don't you?”
I shrugged. “Her eyes were brown, though. My father's were blue.”
The pages turned and turned, displaying the typical happy snapshots most people take when they are a young family. Slowly though, they changed.
“Wow.” Gale flipped back and forth between the bright-eyed happy man with my mother and a rather depressed one sitting in front of a Christmas tree. “Same body, two very different men.”
I nodded. “It was just Dad and me at that point. Before Seth and his mother showed up. Look,” I pointed to an adjacent picture of Dad and me standing on the beach in summer clothes, rolling waves at our backs. “We did have a few happy moments after my mother died.”
Suddenly, a new family portrait was before us: My father, me, Seth, Seth's mother. At the sight, Gale's arm snaked around my waist. “The light is suddenly gone from your eyes in this shot. And shit, but Seth looks depraved.”
“We still hated each other at that point. I put all these pictures away in the locked box maybe a year after this was taken … after I caught Seth's mother throwing out pictures of my mother and of me.”
Gale pulled me closer and flipped another page. It was a close-up shot of a page of text.
“That's the first story I ever wrote simply because I wanted to … not for a school assignment or something. Fiction, though. I was maybe ten? You can read that later.”
“I will, Baby,” he whispered, then kissed my cheek. He continued to flip through scans of report cards, school music programs, and finally, high school graduation shots—selfies all of them. Seth stood beside me in one, looking like he'd rather eat moldy burgers than pose for a photo with me.
“He looks thrilled,” Gale pointed out. A brief wave of disdain wafted over to me. Gale didn't like anyone treating me anything less than wonderfully—even if it happened years ago.
“He was proud of me that day. I know that,” I found myself defending Seth. “He just hated taking part in anything chummy like a photo. Wasn't his style.”
The last photo was of me and Galen radiating happiness last Christmas after he gave me the beautiful promise ring I never take off.
“Damn, but I love this Girl Who Loves Me.” Galen closed the book, then rubbed his nose against mine. He set the album beside us, then kissed my mouth sweetly, gently. “Thank you for letting me into your current life … and now into your past.”
His sincerity burned so deep, I didn't know what to say. So I whispered, “And if you're lucky, I'll let you into my pants now—after I change into something more comfortable.” I moved to get off the bed, but Gale held me next to him and shook his head.
“Surprise me with whatever more comfortable thing you're talking about on another night.” He kissed me again, harder. “I want you now, right now.”
And he so did. Desire for me came off him in beautiful, soulful waves, and the moment his mouth covered mine again, I knew our impending night of passion had begun and neither of us would be leaving the bed for hours. I also knew I loved Galen Zabriese more than I could love anyone or anything ever again.
--The End--
