As Long As I Have You

~ Chapter Four ~

Eight Weeks Earlier

   

"Hello, kitten."

The woman entered the alcove and smiled warmly. "I do wish you wouldn't call me that."

"I didn't think you minded."

Her cheeks blossomed with colour. "I-I don't. But I wish you would just let me tell you my actual name."

His smile widened. "We agreed, no names."

"I know we did, but we've been meeting like this for ages now, and I still have no idea who you are."

"Isn't that the point?"

"I suppose, but—"

"And I resent the accusation," he said without any hint of censure. "You know me far better than you think. Probably better than most."

The woman worked her way out of her trench coat and sat down on the bench. He noticed she left plenty of room for him to sit with her and he took the opening as if he were invited directly. He motioned to the blue-green depths they sat in front of and smiled again. "I thought we were going to take the lead from our favourite painting and remain untitled?"

The woman looked to the large canvas, then back at him. "Untitled. Isn't that just awful?" she mused and stifled a small giggle. "You could literally pick anything else, and it would still be better than 'Untitled'. "

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. You could call it 'Garbage Dipped in Toxic Melted Gummy Bears' and I'd think 'hmm, interesting'. But, 'Untitled? Bah!"

His laughing gaze went between her and the painting, then back again. "Oh, I don't know. You're untitled and you're hardly awful. You're quite stunning in fact."

The woman's cheeks again flushed a rosy hue. It was something they frequently did around him his ego noted, and he tried to find ways to make it happen as often as possible.

At first she smiled at him across her blush, and then out of nowhere she laughed. It was an unfettered, genuine sound that brought crisp and clear bells to mind.

"You're awful," she said, still laughing.

His brows popped up in mock affront. "First our painting and now me? You cut me to the quick, kitten."

She leaned in and nudged him with her shoulder. "I have a feeling you'll survive."

"Without seeing you every day? I'm not so sure of that."

____________________

And so it went. Each day she arrived at the gallery and wound her way towards the alcove where they first met, and each day there he was. Her untitled gentleman waited patiently with a smile always at the ready and with eyes that shone an intoxicating shade of the deepest blue. By the fourth day their unspoken routine had been set, and for weeks afterwards they met, sometimes wandering amongst other paintings, but most times meeting in front of 'Untitled', with the hands of the clock marked by hours rather than minutes.

She realized anonymity was key to his comfort level, and thanks to their concealed identities he seemed content to share just about anything with her. There were hilarious stories of family and intriguing memories of travels to places she always wanted to see but doubted she would ever get to for one reason or another.

It didn't take long for her to reciprocate in kind, and soon she was sharing her own stories. She spoke of her childhood and growing up in a blended family, bucket-list items she never told anyone, and even discussed her concern over her father's workaholic tendencies and the noticeable physical strain he was fighting but refused to acknowledge in the past year.

Of course it was all censored. No names were allowed and no details too revealing were shared. It was challenging and exciting, romantic and intriguing... and aggravating as hell.

"Why won't you tell me?" she finally asked one rainy day.

He'd arrived late to their spot, and although she was on the verge of leaving, she hadn't quite worked up the nerve to go. She was angry that he didn't share the details of why he was late, and even angrier that she didn't have the right to ask. It had been such a difficult day and she had hoped to find comfort in his company, but his tardiness and lack of explanation created the spark that ignited her temper's flame.

"Am I a game to you?" she demanded.

The question clearly caught him off guard. "Absolutely not."

"Are you married? Is that it?"

His eyes softened with a touch of something akin to humour. "I've never been married."

"Are you a politician or something? A criminal?"

He laughed. "Technically those could be the same thing, but the answer is no to both, kitten."

The endearment should have soothed her, but it had the opposite effect. Her anger rose again, whipped into the same frenzy as the storm brewing outside. Her coat was already on, and she turned on her heel to leave the secluded area.

"I can't do this anymore."

She said the words more to herself than to him, and although she had already taken several steps away he caught up with her in one determined stride. He stopped her with the faintest hold under her arm, his touch virtually fusing them together.

"Kitten, what's going on?"

The concern on his face was plain, and the tenderness she felt from him filled her eyes with tears. As much as she wanted to tell him she couldn't. Saying the words out loud would make it all real, and she still didn't believe it herself. When she opened her mouth to speak nothing came out. She licked her lips so she could try again, and noticed how the small action drew his gaze downward.

God, how he thought about those lips. How they would feel against his. How they would taste when they parted and invited his tongue inside...

This wasn't the moment he hoped for, not with her so clearly in distress. Instead of pulling her into his arms and kissing her the way he wanted to, he kept his hold on her elbow and stroked it ever so slightly. It was a reassuring gesture and nothing more, but fire coursed through the pad of his thumb and created a new level of intimacy that was impossible for either of them to deny. They stood that way forever it seemed; he was content to hold onto her and she was content to be held, even by such a feather-light touch.

"My name can't be worth all this fuss, can it?"

She blinked away the tears before they could fall, and shook her head.

"I didn't think so," he said with a reassuring smile. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Desperately, she thought, but said nothing.

He sighed loudly. How quickly this day had turned to shit. First a Board of Directors meeting with his family that resulted in a shouting match between him and his father, and now this.

"Stay with me, kitten. The storm isn't going anywhere and we can hide in here for hours if you'd like. The rest of the world can wait just a little bit longer, can't it?"

If only, she thought. Her thoughts fell back to the devastating news her father had just levelled her with and the tears welled again.

"I can't. I'm sorry. This has been wonderful, but I... I have to go."

Before he could say another word she broke their connection and was gone.