Only The Beginning

Chapter Eight

Craig and his father regarded each other for a moment. The hurried atmosphere slipped out the door with the mystery woman and her partner. Craig had no idea what her story was. First, he discovered her inhaler with a different name than she'd given him, and then he found her at his father's office.

The sting of her leaving, especially after the incredible sex, was beginning to warp into a hardened betrayal. A million theories ran through his mind, each one more ridiculous and paranoid than its predecessor.

Was she using him? She was lying, that was obvious—but why?

His father started talking, but Craig was concentrating on the figures on the other side of the frosted glass, talking with the receptionist. He would have gone out and confronted her if he didn't feel like such a fool. What else did she know about him?

Earlier, back at the hotel, he'd stared at the name on the prescription tag and back pedaled through all their chats on Lovers' Oasis looking for a clue. But she'd never given any personal details. In fact, the only time they exchanged anything about their real lives was the last meeting when he spoke about this trip, and he proposed they meet in person since she lived in the city.

Dumbfounded, he'd slipped the inhaler into his jacket pocket with the intent to leave it at the front desk of the hotel in case she returned for it. But when he passed through the lobby the lineup of people checking in was too long and he decided to keep it, choosing instead to drop it off when he returned.

Small decision, big changes, he thought, picturing her on the floor struggling for breath.

Fate or coincidence?

He turned again to the frosted glass, wondering if she needed further medical attention, but it was only the receptionist's silhouette left now. The shock of seeing her again so unexpectedly had worn off and now a curious weight of concern began to settle across his chest.

"—all right?" his father asked.

"Sorry?" Craig forced his attention back to his father. He'd only seen him several times in the last ten years, when he insisted on flying up to Calgary. The visits always ended earlier than planned with each of them saying stiff goodbyes at the airport, hands clenched at their sides. Once he'd moved in to hug Craig, and it turned into an awkward bumping of elbows with a slap on the shoulder. Since then Craig had adopted a maneuver to avoid further pathetic attempts—a simple handshake. But since they'd already started talking, the reunion phase had ended and there was no need.

"Was your flight all right?" his father repeated.

Craig shrugged his shoulders, the only sound in the room the crinkle of his leather jacket. "We didn't crash, so yes, it was fine."

"You look good." His father smiled stiffly, putting a hand to the perfect Windsor knot of his tie. Craig imagined what his father was really thinking about his t-shirt and jeans. He didn't return the compliment.

"So," he began while Craig continued to stay silent, "Lance was finally able to get you to come home."

"I wouldn't miss my brother's wedding." He took in the framed pictures that lined one whole shelf of the bookcase behind his father's desk. High school graduation photos of each himself and Lance. Then another photo of Lance's graduation from university, then another when he made the bar, and finally, the professional engagement shot with Sue Yin.

Lance's fair coloring and cherub-like face was a perfect contrast to Sue Yin's striking black hair and romantic eyes. You couldn't believe two people were that good looking in real life. If he didn't know them, he'd have assumed the picture had come with the frame.