Change of Heart

Chapter 8

"I... we," I start, but there're a ton of words in my head and I struggle to form a sentence. I pause and take a deep breath in. "I found Bianca wasn't being honest with me," I manage to blurt out. It's not what I wanted to say, but it was all I could take hearing out loud. I look over at him and his expression changes, like a puzzle piece fell into place.

"I'm sorry, Jason," his sorrow filled words help. I'm relieved he kind of understood. He stretches his arm out and placed his hand on mine—it's soothing. My face burns, which is followed by a sting in my eyes. Before I know it, a tear falls down my cheek.

Calvin moves so he's right beside me and without any hesitation, I lean my head into his chest. The tears continue to force their way out of me. I am not one to cry at the best of times. I barely know him and I'm sobbing all over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to mind, and I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. He hesitantly put his hand on my forehead, as if gauging how I'd react. It's the comfort I need. Which is then helped when he starts slowly running his fingers through my hair. It was unusual at first, never had I been this close to another man before. But right now, it's good, it's what I need to be able to fall apart.

***

My eyes fly open. They're tight and dry, making it hard to focus on my surroundings. There's a thick, red wool blanket over me and something warm is pressed up against my side. I slowly lift my head and realize... it's a dog. My pulse increases, and I freak out—I don't have a dog. Panic grips me and I scan the dimly lit room. I can't make out anything in the looming darkness. There's a smell of garlic and herbs, tingling my scent. Then, it dawns on me where I am. Part of me thought it was a very elaborate dream. I look down beside me again and see Mango, sleeping soundly on the lounge.

"I was just coming to check on you two," a voice comes from above me. "It's quite strange, he must really like you. He has been there all day."

I look over to the windows and the sky is completely black.

"W-what time is it?" I stammer. My voice comes out strained and hoarse. I clear my throat and sit up, causing Mango to jump down. He pads over to his water bowl.

"Dinner time. Hungry?" Calvin grins, then turns and walks to where I assume the kitchen is. I stretch out my legs and ease myself up. A sharp pain throbs through my skull. This is the effects of crying myself to sleep. I slowly trudge in the direction Calvin went.

Upon entering the kitchen, I see there's a marble breakfast bar, with a row of dark, wooden stools. I sit on the one closest to the end. It almost seems like a diner and his kitchen's bigger than most I've been to.

He cooks! What else don't I know about him? It strikes me of how little I do know. He's a lawyer, and lives with his dog in a massive penthouse suite. Besides that, he's a complete mystery. He is wearing bone colored three-quarter pants and a plain, navy sweatshirt shirt. I also notice he is bare foot, making him appear quite relaxed and informal. Even this morning, out walking, he was well dressed and presentable.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, so, I made my favorite meal." He places 2 oversized, black dinner plates down on the counter in front of me. I'm stunned. The meal could easily have been prepared by a chef from a Michelin Star restaurant. A huge, juicy steak sits in the center, with what smells like garlic sauce. There's also steamed greens and crispy, herb covered potatoes on the side.

"Thank you," I scoff," this looks incredible and smells delicious," I commend him. I can tell by the glint in his eye that he is pleased with himself. He then goes over to a part of the wall and pulls a handle, which turns out to be a fridge. A dozen different beverages line the doors.

"Would you like anything in particular?" he asks, looking back at me over his shoulder.

"Water's fine, thanks," I reply. Any kind of alcohol would have sufficed, but one drink wouldn't have been enough. He grabs a bottle of mineral water for each of us, handing one to me and seating himself beside me. Food isn't the first thing on my mind right now, but he has gone to so much effort. I pick up the knife and fork and we sit in silence as we eat.

"Thank you, again," I say, after most of my plate is empty. I didn't realize I was hungry until I had begun eating. "Can I please use your bathroom?" I ask, climbing down from the stool.

"Sure, follow me." He responds, leaving the kitchen through a high arched walkway.

While trailing behind him, I can't help but wonder if a tour guide is necessary to find your way around this place. He leads me through a formal living room and then down a long hall. It's double the width than what I'd consider normal. A few closed doors are on either side. Almost at the end, he stops and opens a deep brown colored door.

"If there's anything else you need, let me know," he chuffs and strolls down the hall. Walking into the bathroom, I'm not surprised by its stature. It's bigger than half the upstairs of my house. A twin shower sits in the center of the far wall. To one side is a giant, clawed, free standing bath and the opposite wall has a long basin, with a mirror equal in length. Four people could easily stand beside each other and still have plenty of space. The floor is a dark, polished stone. The decor of the space fits in with the rest of his place.

I walk over to the mirror and take in my reflection. I look horrible—my eyes are puffy and dark and my hair's all fluffed up. I wash my face and try to flatten out the nest on my head.

I stare blankly and hold back the impending tears. What do I do? Should I go home? Though if I do, how do I face Bianca. Home? The word rips at my heart. There's no more 'us' anymore, how can there be? This isn't something that can simply be fixed overnight. The kids too? I have to consider them in all this. God, I miss them and the thought of not seeing them every day, makes me cringe. I feel drained and exhausted and I want to sleep... forever.

Exiting the bathroom looking a little more presentable, I make my way back to the kitchen. I sit back on the same stool and watch Calvin put the last plate in the dishwasher.

"Oh, your cell fell out of your pocket," he says. "It's over by the phone." He points to a tall, rectangular table. There're 4 other phones placed beside mine, along with a huge, black panel that has a bunch of lights on it. I know I should check it, but my legs don't want to move.

"I'm going for a shower," Calvin says, switching off the light above the stove. "Help yourself to anything you need." His expression's placid and inviting. I can't believe he is doing this for me. I feel silly for pathetically blabbing on his shoulder. He probably feels sorry for me. With Calvin gone it leaves me there with my phone taunting at me. I glare over as it buzzes.

I muster up the courage and grab it. There are numerous missed calls from Bianca and over a dozen text messages. My finger hesitates over the green, inbox symbol. There's going to be lots of sorry and please, Jason, messages. My brain's telling me to ignore them, but deep down... I need to know why?