"And it was in Paris when I fell in love with you..."
– Nautica
❀❀❀
~ R E E C E ~
February 1998
"Goodnight, Reece," Dorothy says, her voice soft and gentle.
The way she is ending our call calmly gives me the impression that maybe she isn't missing me just as much as I'm missing her. Although the mere thought of that makes me feel a bit unsettled, I try to convince myself that we recently just got together and she needs more time to be able to reciprocate the full extent of my feelings.
But damn, I wish our call wouldn't end so quickly. I wish I could listen to her talk endlessly. Hell, I wish she was here with me, in Paris, right now.
"Goodnight, my little moon," I reply with a heavy chest.
The call disconnects, and I sigh, putting the phone back on the bedside table before dropping myself onto the king-sized bed in the Presidential Suite, which consists of three bedrooms attached to bathrooms, a living room, a dining room, a study room, a kitchen, a fitness room and a balcony with one of the best views of Paris – especially of the Eiffel Tower.
Trust Dave to have an expensive taste.
"Dude!" Dave whines, rubbing his arm. "Did you have to throw the remote control at me?"
"I had to shut you up," I say. "Dorothy doesn't know about you. I don't want her to know just yet."
"...Fair."
I then stare at the ceiling with my mind filled with Dorothy. Come to think of it, she has barely said anything on the call. Sure, our call did last for about five minutes, but she seemed less talkative than usual, and she sounded... lost?
"I wouldn't settle in bed just yet, if I were you," Dave says, interrupting my train of thought.
I turn my head and see him disappear into the living room before reappearing with a large stack of files. He approaches me and drops the stack on my bed, right next to me. With widened eyes, I get up and rummage through some of the files.
"What the fuck is all of this?" I say.
"Paperwork," Dave replies.
I look up at his grinning face.
"I have this much revision to do?"
"No, no! Of course not."
I sigh in relief.
"CHRISTOPHER!" Dave immediately yells, startling me.
A large, burly man walks into my room, carrying a stack of files twice the height of the stack Dave brought in. He is very tall, over six feet. His black hair is in a bald fade cut. He has a scar that runs from his chin to the corner of his thin lips.
Chris.
My bodyguard.
Trust Dave to be overprotective over me.
"Dump them here," Dave instructs him, gesturing to my bed.
With a nod, Chris places the tall stack onto my bed. Then, he silently leaves. The thing about Chris is that he never expresses emotions and he rarely speaks. The last time I heard him speak was probably six weeks ago, and I think I've forgotten what he sounds like now.
Dave turns to face me with an innocent smile.
"You have this much revision to do," he says, gesturing to the stacks.
Groaning, I grab a pillow, cover my face with it and drop back down onto the bed.
Trust Dave to rub salt into my wound.
***
It's nearly 5am, almost six hours since I started the revisions. Dave and I are sitting in the study room, going through the files. I take off my glasses, putting them on the desk, and rub my eyes. When I glance at the remaining stacks, annoyance hits me.
"The hell!" I snap, getting up from my chair. "I barely finished a quarter of the first stack!"
"That's what happens when you keep on stalling your work," Dave sings, sitting opposite to me. "I told you man, this is the kind of work Daniel can't do. You didn't listen to me, and now it's all piled up and clashing with your current schedule."
"At this rate, we won't finish on time..." I mumble to myself, rubbing my temples. "Dave."
"Yes, Reece?"
I sit back down on the chair and face him.
"Get everyone ready by 7am."
"7am?" he says, frowning. "But its past 5–"
"We're not sleeping until we finish this," I say.
Dave watches me as if he were a deer in the headlights.
"B-But I need my beauty sleep, Reece. Don't do this to me. You know I'm high maintenance–"
"We're not sleeping," I repeat, more firmly this time.
"Ah... Shit..." he says, rubbing his temples.
***
Cameras flash in every direction, blinding me, and everyone screams to catch my attention. Chris and his team surround me as I make my way towards a black jeep. Dave opens the door for me, ushering me in.
Once I enter the jeep, the door is slammed shut, reducing the intensity of the noise. The black tint on the window blocks the peering eyes and the invasive cameras. Leaning back against my seat, I close my eyes and sigh in exhaustion.
No matter how many times I go through this, I can never find myself getting better accustomed to it. But I tell myself that enduring this is a small price to pay for what I've accomplished.
Dave then slips inside the jeep, sitting at the front seat, and signals the driver to drive.
When we return to the Presidential Suite, Dave flops onto a couch while I make my way to the study room, removing my black mask and black beanie during the journey. Once I sit down at the desk, I start going through the third and final stack, optimistic that I may be able to finish everything before Sunday.
It has now been four days since I landed in Paris, and I miss Dorothy so much. Now that I have experienced what my life is like with her in it, I find it difficult to live without her. Nothing catches my attention, nothing interests me.
Although I have been very busy the last few days, I try to make time – even if it is just five minutes – to call her and see how she is doing. But as days go by, my yearning for her grows rapidly, and right now, it's at a point where I struggle to concentrate on my work. But knowing that I'd get to be with her again the moment I finish it keeps me going.
A few minutes later, Dave enters the room and shakes his head when he spots me working.
"Reece... You've gone too far with the workload. We gotta stop, man," he whines.
"No," I say, continuing to read.
"You haven't even explored Paris, man."
How can I explore the City of Love without the love of my life? But I do not tell him that. Instead, I shrug.
"You know Reece," he continues. "Building rapport with your team is vital to achieving success–"
"What's your point?"
"Stop making me bloody work 24/7 and let me sleep, for the love of my sweet mama – may she rest in peace, Amen!"
"21/3."
"Excuse me?"
"We worked for about twenty-one hours per day in the last three days," I say.
"You do realise that that doesn't make it sound any better, right?"
I shrug.
From my peripheral vision, Dave trudges towards a round table and picks something up from there.
"Don't smoke," I tell him, not bothering to look up at him.
"I gotta stay the hell awake to put up with your shit," he retorts, waving the box of cigarettes at me.
"Drink coffee," I say.
"Coffee has nothing on nicotine."
"Then smoke outside."
"What? Why?" he says, glancing at the balcony with a frown. "You never had a problem with me smoking around you. Hell, you smoke with me, boy."
"That was before I decided to live a long life with Dorothy," I reply, finally look up to see his face. "And passive smoking is more harmful to the health than active."
"...Now you're making shit up," he huffs.
"It was all over the news last year," I sigh.
"Speaking of news..." he begins. "Guess whose agent contacted me?"
"Oprah Winfrey's?" I drawl.
"Wouldn't that be a dream?" he sighs in a dreamlike-manner, before he shakes his head. "But no. Laetitia Casta's agent contacted me."
"Laetita Casta?" I say in a monotone.
"Laetita Casta. This year's Victoria's Secret Angel!" he exclaims. "She wants to meet you, Reece!"
As long as you don't cheat on me with a French model.
Inwardly, I am rather amused by how correct Dorothy's intuition is.
Outwardly, however, I shoot Dave a look of annoyance.
"I don't have time, Dave–"
"She's a supermodel, Reece. Not just any model, but a supermodel. You can't just decline meeting her–"
"I have no time," I reiterate. "Speaking of time, how much time do we have left till we leave again?"
He slumps, looking at me as if I were an alien.
"You're unbelievable. A French supermodel wants to meet you and you're blowing her off," he mutters, shaking his wrist to glance at his watch. "About two hours."
"Ok, I think that gives me enough time to finish tomorrow's revisions–"
"Reece, is that you?" a feminine voice gasps.
I peer at the blonde-haired woman standing at the doorway from behind the stacks of paper. She has her hands resting on her hips as she watches me with pursed lips, shaking her head in disapproval.
"Hey, mum," I say.
She approaches me, but when she bends down to give me a hug, her nose scrunches.
"Oh my! You smell, Reece! When was the last time that you showered?" she says.
"Monday."
"That was four days ago!" she snaps, before she faces Dave. "Can't you notice the smell, Dave?"
"Well when you're stuck with him for 72 hours straight, the nose sort of gets used to it to the point that it barely detects it," he mumbles.
Mum, sighing, looks at me, before her eyes widen.
"And your eye bags!" she gasps again, taking off my glasses to examine my eyes more closely. "Don't tell me that you've been working for 72 hours–"
"68 hours," I correct her.
"Potato potato," Dave mutters.
"You should sleep," she says to me.
"I can do all that when we go back to London."
"But you are tired, Reece. You're clearly burning out–"
"I've got so much to do. I knew I was behind, but not this behind."
"You should sleep tonight–"
"No need. The sooner I get this all wrapped up, the better."
"I've never seen you so eager to finish work... Wait a minute... Could it be that you're rushing to go back to a certain someone?" she says, beginning to grin.
I stay silent. Mum takes my silence as an affirmative, as her blue eyes start to twinkle.
"How adorable," she coos. "But I've already decided, boys. I am going to spend time with my son. I did not fly all the way to Paris to be alone."
"But I'm busy–"
She points her index finger at me admonishingly.
"I am your mother and you will listen to me, Reece Walker!"
I stare at her, long and hard, before I sigh.
"I'll get my coat."
"Shower first!"
"Fine!"
***
Mum and I walk along a cobbled lane filled with bakeries, cafes, boutiques, bookshops and jewellery stores. The buildings are colourful and I spot a few cats scampering from one side of the bustling lane to the other. Mum glances at every store during our stroll, admiring the beautifully decorated pastries, the intricately embroidered dresses and the vintage antiques on display.
I look at the various chocolate-flavoured pastries, wishing Dorothy were here so that I could spoil her with these. When we start to walk past a jewellery store, something on the display catches my eye, compelling me to stop. Mum, curious, stops too and follows my line of sight.
"Oh, that's gorgeous, Reece!" she exclaims.
I nod in agreement.
Sitting on display is a thin, platinum necklace with a small teardrop-shaped peridot as a pendant. It's a very simple, yet elegant necklace, but what struck me is the resemblance of the stone's colour to Dorothy's eyes.
Mum grabs my hand and pulls me into the store.
"Excuse me, can we have a closer look of the necklace that's sitting on the window display please? The peridot one?" mum says to a middle-aged jeweller.
"Yes, madame," he says.
When he brings the necklace to us, I examine it closely.
"It really matches her eyes, doesn't it?" I say.
"Oh, it does! Absolutely gorgeous!" she says, before looking at the jeweller. "How much is it?"
"1890 euros, madame," he replies.
"I'll take it," I say, smiling.
"Very good choice, monsieur," he says.
"She will love it," mum says to me, patting my back.
"I hope so."
"Oh, of course she will!"
After we buy Dorothy's necklace, we settle inside a cosy cafe. Thankfully, it is not too crowded.
"Wine, madame?" a waiter asks mum, gesturing to the opaque bottle he's holding.
"Yes, please."
"Monsieur?" he asks, pouring the wine into mum's glass.
"No, thanks," I say. "But can I get an espresso?"
"Of course."
"Really, Reece?" mum sighs the moment the waiter leaves. "An espresso? Please don't tell me that you plan to stay up all night again."
"Like I said, there's a lot to be done," I say.
"But Dave assured me that a week is more than enough time to finish."
"I'm not aiming to finish it in a week."
"Oh?" she says, furrowing her eyebrows, confused.
"When's the opera?" I ask, changing the topic.
"Tomorrow night."
"I'm sorry that I won't be able to join you."
"It's alright, honey. Besides, I won't be alone. Dave is a charming companion, and I'd appreciate it if you can give the poor guy a break. The last thing I need is him snoring during the opera."
"I can't promise anything," I say.
Her blue eyes then land on her hands, which rest on the table.
"Juliet called before we flew here," she says, twiddling her fingers. "She wants to see you again."
"Tell her I'm busy."
She looks at me.
"Reece, you haven't seen her in almost six months. I understand that you are mad at her, but she is your grandmother."
"She is his mother."
"She is the only grandparent you have who actually wants to see you. She really does care about you–"
"If she did, then why did she not stop him? Why did she refuse to take us in after we got kicked out?"
"We've already discussed this, Reece," she says. "No one could have changed him, not even Juliet. I admit, at the time, I felt betrayed that she refused to take us in. But now that I think of it rationally, if she had taken us in, we would have brought trouble into her own home–"
"She'd rather we beg on the streets than help us face him," I retort. "I'll never forget that, mum."
She rubs her temples.
"Look, that's all in the past. What matters is that he's gone and she's not afraid anymore. She wants to spend time with her only grandchild."
"Tell her I'm busy," I reiterate, more firmly this time, making her sigh.
"My family disowned us. At least Juliet is reaching out to you with the intention of loving you," she mumbles, crossing her arms.
Then her eyes become watery.
"My mother loved you," she says. "It still hurts me that she had to love you in secret. All because of my selfish and foolish decisions... I ruined everything."
I rest my hand over hers.
"I promised you that I will give you a comfortable future where you can be independent and live to your heart's content without having to be scared all the time, without having to worry about keeping us fed and sheltered," I say. "Remember?"
She nods.
"All of the sufferings we had to endure... Forget all of that. Think of the present. You're happy now, are you not?" I say.
"I am. I very much am," she replies.
"And you are finally back to living the life of luxury – just as you did when you were young. Minus the humongous estate, but give me a few more years and I shall get you one."
"Oh please, no. I'd rather live in a small, cosy house than a large, empty one."
"Well, whatever you choose, I'll grant it," I say.
She then holds my hands and brings them to her lips.
"You are my most valuable treasure, Reece," she says.
"I love you, mum," I say, sending her a comforting smile.
"I love you, my beautiful boy."
The waiter returns with our drinks. I lean back against my seat and take a sip of the strong espresso. I glance at Dorothy's present on the table, which is wrapped in a green box. Mum catches me looking at it.
"I love how she has changed you," she says, smiling.
"And how has she changed me?" I ask, looking at her.
"Well, for starters, I see you more often now."
"Hmm."
"You've stopped drinking, and thank God for that! And your room doesn't reek of cigarettes anymore. You don't stay out all night, and you haven't had a nightmare in a while."
"I've been quite a nuisance, haven't I?" I say, rubbing my neck sheepishly.
"No," she says, smiling. "You were my nuisance."
"Thanks," I drawl.
"But the best change I've noticed is that you smile a lot now," she adds.
"Well... She makes me happy," I say.
"Dorothy is a blessing, isn't she?"
I shake my head.
"She is my miracle."
Her smile grows.
"Indeed, she is," she says, taking a sip of her wine. "Treat her well, Reece. Love her. Respect her. Be patient with her. Don't force her to do anything–"
"I'd rather hang myself than force her to do anything," I say.
She blinks. I know that I can get intense sometimes, but what I'm saying is the truth. Dorothy is her own person and she has every right to do what she wants to do. I only ask that she lets me be the only one to protect her, to love her, to cherish her, to make her feel like the happiest person alive.
"Anyway," mum begins. "What's important is that you two should know that you are a team. It's you two together against the world. I wish I had shown you what a healthy relationship really looks like. It would have been so much easier for you to understand..."
"It's alright, mum," I say. "I think I got it. She's happy with me, and I'm happy with her. We're... We're very happy."
"And I hope and pray that it continues to be that way. But Reece... When will you tell her?" she asks.
I purse my lips.
"When she's ready," I reply.
"I'm sure she already is."
I shake my head.
"I don't want to risk losing her."
She rests her hand over mine.
"What are you afraid of, honey?"
"I... What I feel towards her... The intensity of that... I'm afraid that she won't be able to handle that. At least, not now. If I give her more time, maybe she'll feel the same way about me just the way I do about her."
"But it's important to be open to each other," she says. "Has she opened up to you about anything?"
"...She has. But that's different. I'm doing this to protect her."
"Look honey, all I'm saying is that, given what you are doing and where you're heading, it might not be a good idea to keep Dorothy in the dark for too long," she says. "She's a strong girl and she deserves to know the truth. After all, isn't she one of the reasons why you even made it this far?"
I smile at her.
"Don't worry," I say. "I will be sure to credit my muse."
*~*~*~*~*
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