The One Who Got Away

{Chap+er 3}

"You like that, don't you?" I say to Civan as I stroke him between the ears and I am rewarded me with a low 'grrr' sound. The soft rumbling of his sweet purr is just as soothing as our surroundings. The house is quiet after having sent Beste and Ayhan off on their way. But Civan seems to be enjoying the comfortable silence and company as he shares the couch with me. 

In fact I'd say we have created our own mini oasis here nestled among the white and Robin's egg blue scatter cushions. A colour palette that is carried throughout the room broken only by bursts of vivid colour from abstract expressionism artwork and centerpieces. The two sides of the living space are glass walls allowing for the outside to flow indoors. While the living room feature wall is a living green wall which was a recommendation from Deniz to help promote wellness. Though I must admit that I haven't always agreed with Deniz's unconventional therapeutic methods, the living green wall was definitely one of her finer moments. In addition to being visually appealing it is also functional as it absorbs EMF radiation and purifies the air. Personally I have always leaned towards the Pinterest quote, "homes are for free expression not first impressions." But it's safe to say I've struck a balance.

"What do you say to a seafood pâté, my prince?" I turn to Civan who I know never turns away food and a good massage. Instead he lifts his head to look me in the eye as if to say, 'dare you ask'. And as if that's not enough he shows me his tiny pearly white canines in a big yawn. "Okay, okay." I snicker while unfolding myself off the couch and walk over to the kitchen cabinets then make to grab a can of cat mousse off the top cat food shelf. Only turning around to find Yiğit standing tall in the doorway. "Oh, my! Yiğit you scared me." I say, clutching my chest and easing my fight or flight responses. Seriously if the cat mousse had been packaged in a glass jar I'd be worried that Civan would be eating it off the floor with shards of glass. "How long have you been standing there?" I ask a bit more calmly even though I'm still surprised at his sneakiness. "You simply look so beautiful," he says almost to himself and shadowed by a faraway look in his hazel eyes. But as if remembering himself, he gives his chestnut curly hair head a slight shake and better responds with, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare or interrupt you."

"It's okay, please come in." I say and watch as his lanky lamp post frame walks through the threshold. I finish emptying out the cat pâté onto Civan's feeding bowl and bend down to put it on the floor. But Civan leaps off the couch and sashays away past his food like I've just offered him poison. He leaves Yiğit and I momentarily staring after him as he disappears from view. Civan normally never misses an opportunity to lick the bowl clean but I also can't be stunned at his behaviour because every time Yiğit has managed to stop by he becomes Civan the great Houdini.

"So what brings you by? I thought we were meeting tomorrow." I turn back to face Yiğit who looks a little out of place in my slice of paradise that is open, light and very much tranquil. Dressed like he belongs in a J. Crew lookbook what with his Oxford shirt, slacks and loafers. Yiğit's idea of casual is opting to leave behind his sport jacket. He stamps off his look with a hint of a classic Patek Philippe Calatrava around his wrist. Understated yet as any horologist will concur is a statement piece that speaks to his upbringing. Whereas I am the ultimate image of lazy in my current choice of loungewear and appearance. Clad in black leggings, a white tank top and a beige oversized chunky cable knit cardigan. And especially with my bareface that's scrubbed clean and a messy lopsided high ponytail, I must look a sight.

"I was in the neighbourhood." Yiğit finally answers and so convincingly too. I might have even believed him if I didn't know better. "Yiğit, what neighbourhood? I live on a farm." I say not able to hide my amusement. "I know, you got me." He says resigned and smiling sheepishly. At least he has the good manners to look caught out on a lie. Even going as far as to avert his eyes and angling his head just so that the sunlight pouring in through the glass wall panels is glinting off his burnt orange beard.