The kitchen was huge, and it had every cooking gadget you could imagine, including a pizza oven.
Claire went to the fridge and pulled out two frozen pizzas. Meanwhile, Roger was checking the pantry. Then he did a cursory once over the contents of the fridge.
"Claire, are you famished?"
"Not, particularly."
"Then, if you'll give me a couple of hours, I'll make fresh pizza."
Without waiting for a reply, he pulled bread flour, kosher salt, olive oil, sugar, and yeast and started to combine the ingredients in a bowl. Then he folded the dough.
Claire watched, fascinated, as her husband displayed his culinary prowess. I wasted three months.
"When I was 19, I spent a year working at Totonno's out by Coney Island. You ever been?" he explained.
"Uh.. no, never." I can only imagine how hard your life has been.
"This won't be as good as if I could make the dough the day before, but it's much better than frozen pizza."
"I'd love to hear how you went from pizza chef to orderly at the hospital. It must have been difficult for you all alone." I want to get to know you and for you to know me.
"Yeah, there are a lot of fun memories... A lot of bitter ones, too. You see me calm now, but I used to be a hothead. Got into a lot of fights. Trouble. Then, I met a priest out of St. Mary's on Grand. He helped change. He passed two years ago." He stopped kneading for a few seconds, his eyes closed.
Claire was lost in thought. Could we grow to love each other? We have such different backgrounds. He's focused on his career. But, the way he is... it's so alluring.
After a few minutes, he set the dough aside to let it rest.
I've had men cook for me on dates, but it was just that, an effort for a date. He just... I don't know. He's so genuine.
Then he started on the tomatoes, "There's nothing better than fresh pizza sauce. If you want to help, you could start on the vegetables. Some bell peppers, mushrooms, onion, maybe?" He looked at the silent Claire.
"Uh.. yeah, sure. I'm just enjoying watching you cook." She commented.
If he only knew that, I would have no idea how to do any of that. I'm definitely not wife material in that regard.
"If you want to watch, that's fine too. It'll only take a few minutes. The wait is for the dough to rise and the sauce to cook." He explained and continued working, with the practiced motions of a line cook, on the ingredients for the sauce.
See, that's just it. No arguing. No games. No agenda. Just quiet, courteous, unassuming Roger making me happy. One of the most powerful humans on earth making me pizza while I watch.
Claire sat watching him. Then she took out her phone and typed briefly.
"I noticed you have some Pecorino Romano, so this is going to taste exquisite. I normally can't afford it, so I use whatever parmesan I can find." Honey, from now on, you can afford anything you want.
Twenty minutes later, he cleaned the island top with a satisfied look and turned to a silent Claire.
"You could pick out some wine? I'm not very good at that. Where I'm from, they make Tequila. I would normally have beer, but I didn't see any in the fridge."
"Sure, I have a wine I'm sure you'd like, but if you want beer, there's a variety in the bar. Can you leave this for a few minutes?" She said, gesturing to the simmering pot, "You can pick out one you like." She smiled, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the bar.
While they walked, she said, "Roger, I erased the video from last night." His grip tensed. "You don't need to explain anything to me, and don't think I expect anything from you." He relaxed a bit.
She wrapped herself around his arm, "I'm unconditionally on your side. I never thought someone would jump into danger and protect me like you did. And then, you know, the other thing. So, I will always be there for you. If we divorce and fifty years from now, you come to find me, I'll be there."
He stopped and looked at her, "Thank you, Claire. It's hard for me to talk about it. Secrecy was ingrained into me from the moment I could talk." I'm here for you, Honey.
A few hours later, they were sitting across from each other, enjoying pizza and light conversation. Roger had drank one beer. Olivia had finished a bottle of wine and was almost done with a second.
Roger smiled, "What did you think of the pizza?"
"My God, that sauce you made is amazing," she answered, "Thanks for cooking. I don't cook, but I'll be happy to watch you cook and eat what you make. Deal?" she added with a wink.
"Sure! I can cook dinner when you're home. That way, I can contribute something." I feel like I'm mooching here.
"You don't—" she was about to dismiss his offer, "If that's what you want, I'll eat your food any day."
"Thanks, Claire."
"Roger, if you were dying and you had the money, would you give 100 million to live?" She asked.
He didn't think about it, "Sure. Who wouldn't?"
"My grandfather was dying, and you saved him, and I was dying, and you saved me." She let the statement hang.
"Ok. I get it!"
"Do you really? I watched myself seconds from dying, and the only thing between death and me was you! So anything I give you, its value is weighed against my life." A tear fell down her cheek.
There was a long silence, each lost in their thoughts. Claire opened another bottle of wine and drank.
Roger's mind whirled. How can I tell her that my grandfather forbade me from taking anything for healing? That path led our ancestors to ruin. It's not that her life isn't special; it's that I don't want to lose myself. If it becomes about wealth, then where does it stop? I hope I can make you understand that I'm not ungrateful for what you're doing.
Claire broke the silence, "I had your stuff moved here. It's easier to protect one house, so you can stay in the bedroom next to mine." Claire's eyes were glassy.
"Ok. It's better if we stick together until we find the people doing this."
Claire finished the third bottle.
"Yes. We need to stick together. We need to talk about those people and my grandfather. He was looking for you, you know? Tomorrow, I think I drank too much."
She tried to get up but tipped over and held on to the table. Roger jumped to her aid, grabbed her wrist, and steadied her. Hmmm.
"Husband, can you help me to my room," she declared slightly slurring her words.
He helped her to the stairs. Then decided it was best to princess carry her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
She rested her head on his shoulder, "You know, this is getting to be a habit," she whispered into his ear.
By the time they reached her bedroom, she had passed out. Roger put her on her bed and went to look for some pajamas.
He found a satin long-sleeve top with matching pant bottoms.
Efficiently, he took off her clothes and changed her. Then, after thinking about it, he reached underneath the back of the shirt, unsnapped her bra, and pulled the straps through the sleeves and the bra out the front, all with care and without touching her skin or peeking at anything. It was a masterpiece of self-control.
He tucked her in and, as his mother had taught him, did the sign of the cross, "Sleep well... wife." She snored. He chuckled.
The glorious Saturday morning rays of sunlight peeked through the window to land on Claire's face as the orb rose on its daily trek. The warmth woke her from a restless sleep. She rubbed her temples and squinted her eyes. Her head was locked in a vice. The unbearable pressure begot uncharacteristic grumpiness.
"Argh, this headache," she complained. The price for drinking your worries.
Claire sat up in bed and looked at the pajamas she had on. Then, at the outfit she had worn the previous night and was now neatly folded on a chair nearby, and smiled. On top of the pile was her bra. Well, he passed that test, she thought smugly. Her feint sleep had allowed her to experience his respectful care.
On the nightstand next to her was a green concoction and a note.
Claire,
Drink all of this.
It's a little bitter, but
it will help the headache
and stomach problems.
H
"Argh!" She drank the whole glass. It tasted like death, but almost immediately, her headache subsided. What miracle is this?
Her watch chimed. She was late. He would already be doing his routine. She jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen in her PJs. Hours seemed to pass as she implored the coffee maker to hurry.
Finally, with two cups in hand, she went to find Roger.
As expected, he was doing his routine in the front yard. The two female bodyguards were guarding him intently. Coincidently, as she arrived, they found the need to check the perimeter.
He stopped his movements and greeted her, "Good morning. How are you feeling?"
"All better, thanks to you! Good morning," she offered him the cup of coffee.
"Did you ogle me enough last night?" She said while pointing at her pajamas.
"Miss Williams, do you think that you can fake inebriation and sleep with someone like me?" He countered, unmasking her test. You wanted me to change you, so I obliged.
"Uh... but... you looked!" She countered defensively.
"I'll be the first one to admit that you're extremely attractive, and - as a man - it's my duty to stare when given the opportunity," he said sarcastically. Determined not to lose this particular battle. I'm not avoiding your teasing anymore.
She laughed, "I give up! You're the only person on this planet that's allowed to ogle me as they like."
"Could you put your shirt on? You seem to be distracting the help!" She asked, pointing to their caretakers, "and conversely, I demand to be the only one to enjoy that view!"
He put on his shirt, and they headed toward the house.
"Could we have breakfast and talk about my grandfather? Also, can I buy you some stuff?"
"Yeah, sure. Stuff?"
"Clothes, phone, laptop, a few suits. There are events I need you to accompany me. Then, in a few months, there's the Met Gala." How do I say no with you weighing everything against your life?
"Didn't you want to keep our marriage a secret? Won't I embarrass you? I've never even worn a suit."
They sat at the table. Breakfast was already waiting.
"I'm not ashamed of being married to you," she said defensively, "I think we should spend more time together and get to know each other," she added. But you made the rules.
"You want us to be a married couple?" He asked, not understanding her change in attitude. I've always respected you as my wife.
"Yesterday, I saw myself almost die." She said. Roger fidgeted in his chair. He recalled her limp body in his arms.
She took a deep breath. Squared her shoulders.
"It's not that you saved my life; it's that you're," she gestured at him, "this great guy I never expected. My grandfather was right. There I said it!" She blushed.
"So you... like me? But we're so different. I'm not sophisticated. I only finished high school. I've only worked as a cook or, pardon me, cleaning shit in a hospital." You're this beautiful, educated, wealthy woman; how can I measure up?
"You're my husband; whether you're a cook, a janitor, a doctor, or stay at home all day, I don't care. It took me too long to realize the type of man you are, but I do now. I'm not talking about your abilities."
She paused for a bit, looking into his eyes.
"You left a concoction for my headache. Yesterday, you made juice for my blood loss. You respectfully changed my clothing. Maybe you knew I was awake, but still, you didn't "accidentally" brush your hand, and I know I teased, but you didn't ogle; you barely looked. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you before, but I do now."
She grabbed his hand across the table.
"I've only dated a few guys and never had a real boyfriend, but I know you're rare. You're the type of man that's hard to find. So, yeah, I like my husband very much!"
Roger looked at her intently. He wanted to believe her. How could I not want a wife like you?
"You're fine with all that?" He asked incredulously, "You're not going to change your mind in a couple of days when the shock wears off?" His tone almost mocking.
Her face grew furious. She let go of his hand. "I'm all alone, Roger, okay? Gramps left me! I have employees, colleagues, and you, who I thought was some guy trying to get rich and turned out to be great! Gramps looking out for me, again. Why would I ever be so stupid to let you go?" she shouted. Roger pulled back. I guess she's serious. His heart quickened.
She took a deep breath.
Calmer, "I'm asking you to spend time with me and see if we can become a real couple. I'll treat you like my husband, and you treat me like— well, like you've always done. Just... no sex for now... for now! Ok?"
"So, like most marriages?" He laughed. She smiled.
"Yeah. Roger, I know we both have needs, right? I don't want you going with some girl that invites you to pizza. I'll get really jealous. So, if you can't... I don't know how to say it... hold it... just come to me and say, 'Claire, I need a woman,' ok?" She paused. Then, in a sassy voice while shaking her head from side to side, she said, "And I'll see what I can do!"
Roger laughed out loud. My wife always has her rules.
"Claire, I need a woman!" Let's see what you do with that!
"Right now or tonight?" She said seductively.
"Right now!" You want to tease, I'll play your game.
Claire thought for a second; she got up, pulled him with her, and then said, "Let's take a shower!" There was a mischievousness in her eyes. Roger started to feel the heat. Is this really happening?
When they got to her bedroom, Roger tried to break off, but she held him and guided him in. She moved behind him and pulled his T-shirt off. A bead of sweat ran down Roger's forehead.
Then wrapped her arms around him so her body rubbed his back. She dragged her nails on his chest and pushed him toward the bathroom and into the shower. He held back a groan. I was just joking.
She turned him around to face her and held him in a tight bear hug. His body reacted to her closeness. Gently, she bit his neck and purred. His head told him to stop; his body said differently. She knows what buttons to push.
"You don't need a woman, you have one!" She whispered seductively in his ear.
Then, she let him go and took a step out of the shower while she pushed the button for the cold water.
"Claireeeee!" His desire shriveled.
She laughed and said, "Honey, make sure you can handle the piper before you ask for a tune." She blew him a kiss and winked, turned, and left the bathroom.
"Hurry up and shower. We still have a lot to do today!"
Looks like Roger and Claire are finally getting along.
What did you think about Claire's reaction?
How would you have reacted to a near-death experience?
Let me know in the comments what you think!
Don't forget to star and follow!
Mayan Moon will be updating every Sunday at 9 am Central until it's complete!