Page 23 of The Last Affair
Maurice climbed onto the table after making sure Des got up all right on her own. Not that she wasn’t capable, but after yesterday on the slopes he had a new protective instinct where she was concerned.
“You’re encouraged to let the relaxing of your muscles coax you into opening up with your fellow Lover. Releasing all anxieties or inhibitions to freely be together. You may remove your robes.” Clipboard Guy finished softly and moved closer to the table where Des was, immediately pulling a sheet up over her body so that she could remove the robe and still retain privacy.
Maurice was already lying facedown with his robe off, and he’d pulled his own sheet up to his waist by the time the man turned to him.
“Well, all right, then. The masseuses will be in momentarily. And don’t fret, they’ve also signed NDAs with Dear Lover. Nothing you say in here during the session will ever be repeated.”
“Does this feel like forced communication to you?” she asked as soon as they were alone in the room.
He turned his head so they were staring at each other. “Definitely.”
They both laughed. The beds were about three feet apart, and the only light in the room came from two lanterns on a table in the corner. The golden haze was weirdly comforting, and the faint sound of a waterfall added to the ambience.
She reached back and grabbed her hair, pulling it away from her face. “What do you want to talk about? Because we might get in trouble if we don’t cooperate.”
He knew exactly what he wanted to talk about; it had come to him the second she asked the question. His response had to wait because their masseuses entered. It always took him a few minutes to become totally relaxed in a massage, so he didn’t speak until the woman’s oiled hands were moving expertly over his shoulders and toward the center of his back where most of his tension seemed to rest.
“Why don’t you go home for vacations?” he asked when he thought she’d had enough time to relax as well.
There was no immediate response. In fact, she took so long he wasn’t sure she was going to answer him at all.
“I don’t want my family to see me.” Her voice was quiet, and he slowly opened his eyes to glance over at her.
She had her eyes closed while the second woman worked her shoulders.
“You don’t want them to see how successful you’ve become?” He was almost positive that wasn’t what she meant, primarily because it didn’t make any sense, and Des was one of the most sensible women he knew.
“No. I don’t want them to see how badly I messed up.” She opened her eyes then. “I didn’t listen to my mom’s and my grandma’s advice.”
“They told you not to come to New York because you might get lost in the big city,” he joked.
“Chicago’s a big city, too,” she replied with a half smile. “They told me not to move to Denver with Gordon, my boyfriend from college.”
Those last three words had his gut clenching, more from his own personal memories than any sort of unwanted jealousy. Then there was the guarded look on her face, as if she were wondering if she could continue while knowing it was too late to stop.
“Tell me about it,” he said in as even a tone as he could manage. Never, ever had he had a conversation with one of his dates about their former lovers or boyfriends.
“His name was, or is, Gordon Thomas.” She closed her eyes again, but this time he suspected it was because her masseuse was applying kneading strokes up and down her back, a move he knew could be particularly relaxing. “He was the star of the basketball team in college, leading our school to the NCAA Championship two years in a row. I tutored him during our sophomore year.”
That last sentence explained a lot because he definitely hadn’t pictured Des as the star athlete’s girl. He knew from reviewing her CV when she’d been hired at the company that she’d graduated summa cum laude in undergrad and went on to be in the top five percent of the class to achieve her master’s degree. She was a brilliant marketing strategist.
“To make a long story very short, we fell in love and when he was drafted to the NBA, I went with him to Denver. My mother and my grandmother weren’t thrilled with the idea of me packing up to go follow some man’s dream, but in the end, they respected my decision. He played professionally for one season before sustaining a foot fracture that benched him.” She’d had her arms down by her sides, but now she moved them to fold under her head before resting her cheek on them. During the movement, he’d seen that her hands were shaking.
His arms were by his sides, and his hands fisted. If she was getting ready to say what he was thinking she was going to say...he wanted to find Gordon Thomas and punch the bastard in his face.
“I gave him six years, four of which were hell on earth. Exactly when he’d gone from the attentive, loving guy with the great smile to the controlling maniac who’d taken his injury and subsequent fall from the NBA out on me in all the worst ways possible, I have no idea.” She took a deep inhale and released it so slowly he could see her entire body vibrating with the action.
It took every ounce of control he possessed to keep still on that table. Des wouldn’t want pity, and that’s exactly how she’d take it if he went to her now and tried to console her in any way.
“Anyway, when I finally decided to leave him, I didn’t go home to Chicago, and when my mother asked what happened between him and me...” She paused.
“You didn’t tell her because you didn’t want her to know you’d been in an abusive relationship.” Finishing the sentence for her was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Saying those words in relation to Des had a ball of hot fury resting in the pit of his stomach.
“I didn’t want my family to know that I’d been weak and foolish. I especially didn’t want either or all of my brothers hopping on the first plane to Denver and catching a murder charge for putting Gordon out of his misery.”
Which was exactly what Maurice was contemplating at this moment.
He’d almost forgotten they were getting massages when the woman lifted his left leg, bending it at the knee slowly and pulling it back. Clearly there’d be no jumping off the table now, so he extended his arm between the tables to her. Waiting a beat for her to release her arm and accept his hand was like holding his breath just over the two and a half minutes Major had clocked him doing when they were kids.
