CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1) (41 page)

“You waited.” I beam as I sit
down.

“It’s good manners to wait.” He
says taking a sip of wine.

“Your grandparents taught you
well,” I say, then regret it. I doubt he wants to be reminded of them. I take a
big whiff of the meal and my appetite comes back with a vengeance. “Mmm smells
delicious.”

“Cheers.” Tristan raises his
glass, I pick up mine and we click glasses.

“Cheers.” I take a sip place my
wine down and start eating. “Dig in Tristan, don’t let it go cold,” I add. I’m
so used to eating on my own, that I don’t think anything of it as I munch away
without any conversation, until Tristan’s chuckling brings my attention back. “What?”
I ask feeling as though I’m blushing.

“I just had a flashback of you
eating that muffin,” he chuckles filling his fork back up again.

“I was mortified you caught me.”
I confess, cringing inside that he’s brought that up.

“I know you were, that was half
the fun of it.” His eyes twinkle wickedly.

“Tristan!” I scold.

“I know it’s bad, right?” He
chortles.

“I’ll get you back.” I gripe
sulkily.

“Doubt it.” He answers, his eyes
sparkling some more. I have to smile back. It feels as though the moment I see
his smile, my face automatically reacts and smiles along with him…

WE LAUGH, TEASE AND TALK
our way right through dinner, the time actually flies by. What felt like five
minutes was actually an hour.

“Want to put this film on?”
Tristan asks pouring us both more wine. I feel so content, full belly, no nose
pain, and a gorgeous man named Tristan to ogle at for the rest of the night.

“I’m not fussed.” I say dreamily,
taking another sip.

“Good. Because I have a surprise
for you.” Tristan gets up and switches the oven back on.
More food?

“Tristan, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know in the supermarket
we were comparing puddings?”

“Err...yeah.” I say sceptically.

“Well I snuck one in,” he says,
grinning like a naughty school boy.

“Tristan,” I moan. “Seriously?” I
sigh heavily in resignation. “Healthy diet, window gone,” I grumble, then I
narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not pulling a Gladys on me are you?” I question.

“What’s a Gladys?” he says
sneaking something into the oven.

“She’s always saying that I’m
skinny, but I don’t think I am, do you?” Tristan shakes his head at me.

“It wouldn’t bother me what
weight you were Coral,” he says, sitting down opposite me.

“That’s not an answer.” I huff
feeling annoyed.

“Ok, I think you look amazing as
you are. If you lost weight, I would be worried you had an eating disorder, if
you gained weight it wouldn’t make any difference to how I feel about you. But
you probably do look very slim to Gladys, she’s pretty plump.” He says
cheekily.

“Not as plump as she was,” I
mumble to myself. “So you bought a pudding to surprise me, not fatten me up?” I
finally let the grin spread across my face.

“Precisely,” he says sipping more
wine. “Happens to be my favourite too you know. It’s was my Grandmothers
speciality,” he says smacking his lips together –
I wish he wouldn’t do
that, they already look tantalizingly good!

We gaze at one another, the
atmosphere charging with electricity again. Tristan leans forward and takes my
hand. “So is it safe to say I can ask you out on a date?” I frown. “Is that a
no?” He smiles cheekily, his dimples deepening.

“No, it’s not a no. I just hate
that word.” I grumble.

“What word?” He asks, cocking his
head to the side.

“Date.” I say taking a gulp of
wine. “It has so many hidden implications,” I sigh.

Tristan frowns. “I really want to
wine and dine you Coral, spoil you rotten.”

I lean back, take my hand out of
his and run it through my hair. “I don’t need you to do that.” I argue.

“Then what do you need Coral?” He
asks his expression serious.

“Tristan, I think we’re past all
that kind of stuff...I think it’s quite evident how we both feel.” I frown even
harder, hearing myself say that out loud is weird.

“Tell me what you want?” He says
huskily.

“This is nice.” I whisper placing
my hand back in his. Tristan’s eyes darken as he rubs his thumb over the top of
my hand.

“Yes, it is.” He agrees.

The oven chimes pulling us both
out of the little bubble that seems to surround us...

I AM SAT BLOWING COLD AIR
onto my steaming bread and butter pudding. I really want to dig in, but it’s
just too hot.

“Your turn,” I say to Tristan.

“My turn?” He questions.

“Yes, tell me about your upbringing
and your Grandparents.”

Tristan shrugs. “There’s not much
to say really.” I roll my eyes, but I can see it’s not really something he can
easily discuss.
Tough!

“Ok, I’ll help. Where were you
raised?” I ask cheerily.

“Maidenhead,” he replies.

“Ooh, very nice,” I answer
playfully.

“You?” I cock one eyebrow up at
him. “I mean before you came here,” he adds.

“Somerset,” I grumble.

“Ever been back?” he questions. I
decide not to answer that one.

“Hey, this is meant to be my
twenty questions.” I argue, Tristan grins. I can see what game he’s playing but
it won’t work. “So did you go to your Grandparents, or did they relocate for
you?”

“No, they had lived in Maidenhead
all their life, so it was logical for me to stay with them.” I nod as I listen
to his reply.

“So how old were your
Grandparents when you went to live with them?”

“Granny was fifty, Gramps was
fifty-five.”

I shake my head in amazement. “I
bet they didn’t think they’d be doing it all over again at their age.” Then I
realise how awful that sounded. “Sorry,” I whisper. “That didn’t come out
right.” I scowl in frustration at myself.

“It’s ok,” he frowns. “It hit
them pretty hard when my mother died, of course I was a newborn I had no idea.
But they said having me, helped them both deal with it. You know lost a child
gained a grandson.” I nod solemnly.

“So what was it like being raised
by the previous generation?”

“Good mostly, they were very
kind, patient people.” I can tell it’s still painful for him to talk about
them, I can see it in his face, although he’s hiding it well.

“Tristan, I’m sorry, this must
still feel so raw to you we can talk about something else.” I offer feeling
guilty.

“No, no, it’s ok really. I miss
them, but I also like remembering them too. You can ask me questions about them.”
He prompts.

I smile tentatively at him and
continue. “What was it like growing up an only child?”

“That was difficult at times, but
again my Grandparents were really open, honest people, they didn’t hide
anything. They would talk about their past, their mistakes. So if I got
something wrong, or I didn’t know how to deal with something, they were always
there for me with open arms, they never judged me.”

“They sound like they were
awesome,” I say smiling as I do. Then I frown wishing I’d had that kind of
start in life.

“With that kind of stuff they
were,” he says trying to hide something, but I’m getting to know him better, I
can see through his facade.

“So what were the negatives
Tristan, there has to be some?”

“There were, but they weren’t bad
enough to make it so my childhood seemed traumatised.” He bites –
Was that a
dig at me? Ouch that hurt!
“Damn it Coral, I didn’t mean…” Tristan sighs
heavily and runs a hand through his hair. “I…I was bullied....a lot.” He picks
up his wine and takes a large gulp.

“You were?” I squeak in surprise,
he’s such a tall, big, manly man. I can't imagine him ever being bullied.

“Yes, until Gramps found out and
he taught me to box.” He adds, grinning widely. That’s it! – I knew it! I knew
there was something else there, something I couldn’t put my finger on. And now
I know. I instantly feel even more protected (if that’s possible) I was right;
Tristan can look after himself, which means me too.

“Ok, back up why were you
bullied?”

“Boys will be boys,” he answers,
then takes a spoonful of pudding and eats it.

“What, you went to a boy’s
school?” Tristan nods. “So did you get the bully back?” I grin hoping he’ll say
yes. I hate bullies. I take a spoonful of pudding too.

“Oh yeah, he never came at me
again and neither did his mates. I was so mad and so tired of all their
bullshit.” Tristan scoops some more pudding.

“What bullshit?” I take another
spoonful.

“Kids are kids right? Whatever
they can take the piss out of they do, so they took the piss out of the fact
that my parents were old, they took the piss out of my clothes’ – “What was
wrong with your clothes?” I squeak, my spoon frozen midair.

“They were awful, second hand and
definitely not in fashion.”

“Oh.” I frown trying to
understand him, what he went through.

Tristan continues. “I was one of
those quiet kids, you know. I didn’t cause trouble, I paid attention in class,
but I was a loner, always have been, I guess I always will be. I didn’t really
feel the need for friends, so I guess that made me a sitting duck, because I wasn’t
like them. They needed each other for validation, but I didn’t need anyone but
my folks. Besides what good were friends that bully you, make you feel like
shit, to me that’s not a friend.”

I look down at the table, trying
to imagine what that felt like as a kid. “What else did they bully you about?”
I nervously ask.

Tristan sighs. “Clothes, shoes,
bag, coat, pencil case, you name it they took the piss out of it.”

“Why?” I question, trying to
understand.

Tristan shrugs. “We didn’t have
much money.” I can tell there’s more there, but I decide to leave it be.

“That sucks.” I say frowning
hard.

“Yeah, but I kind of didn’t
care.” Tristan eats more pudding.

“Why?” I eat more too.

“Because I knew I had better
parents than them.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because I was…happy,” he says
simply.

“And they weren’t?” I conclude.

“Nope, the leader his Dad was...”
Tristan trails off and looks down at his pudding.

“Was what?” I ask totally
enthralled in his story.

“An alcoholic,” he answers still
looking at his pudding.

I sigh heavily. “Yeah...guess
there are lots of parents around like that.” I say bitterly. We both eat more
pudding. But I want to know more so I chew quickly and swallow, Tristan’s on a
roll I want to keep him going. “So his Dad was a drunk? Bet he was having a
hard time at home.” I muse.

“You on the bullies side now?” I
look up from my pudding, Tristan is stony faced.

“No, of course not,” I gripe. “I
just...never mind,” I say shaking my head. “So what about the other kids?”

Tristan shrugs. “I don’t know I
could just tell the other kids didn’t have it easy either. It was a tough
school you know, lower class kids, rough parents. I don’t think any of them
made anything of themselves.”

“Except you,” I say proudly.

“In the business world, yes,” he
grins. I frown at him. “I got expelled,” he chuckles.

“Expelled?” I gasp. “Well that
makes two of us,” I add, wondering how much more stuff is going to come up
where Tristan and I seem identical.

“You…expelled,” he chuckles.

“Um...yeah, I kind of had anger
issues.” Tristan loses his grin. “Anyway enough about me, you were expelled for
fighting I presume?”

“Yes, well that’s how they saw it.
Gramps saw it differently of course, he went to the education board they agreed
to let me be home schooled. Gran was my tutor.” I throw down my spoon. “What’s
wrong?” He asks his spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Nothing, it’s just weird how
many similarities we seem to have. Gladys home schooled me.” I tell him.

“Ah,” Tristan eats more pudding.

“What age for you?” I ask totally
intrigued.

“Nine.”

I gasp aloud. “You were nine?”

“Um...yeah, you?” Tristan doesn’t
understand my surprise.

“Fourteen, I did the last year at
home.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” We sit silently for a
while, enjoying our puddings. “Did you like it, studying from home?” I ask.

“Yeah I did, no more crap from
other kids. But I got a little lonesome sometimes, for company my own age I
mean.”

“Like a buddy to go hang around
the woods with, or go on a bike ride with?” Tristan shakes his head at me.

“There weren’t any woods, and I didn’t
have a bike.” Tristan says.

“Well what did you have?” I ask.

Tristan sighs. “See this is what
most people can’t get their head around’
Most people?
‘All those things
that you’re talking about are material possessions right?”

“Yeah?” I say hesitantly.

“Well I was bought up to
understand from a very early age that it means nothing, sure it’s nice to have
things, but to put anything like that against a loved one, was, well…shallow.”

“It’s not shallow to want a bike
when you’re a kid Tristan.” I argue.

“I know that, but I didn’t feel
the need for one.”

“Why not?”
This is weird.

“I just didn’t. I wasn’t like
other kids Coral. I hadn’t been brought up that way. I mean, I get what you’re
saying - Didn’t I ever want to play? Yeah course I did and when I wanted to I
did, with my dog, we’d play in the garden for hours.” Tristan looks frustrated.
“Look I was always with either Grandparent. At weekends I’d either be learning
how to cook, or get a coal fire going with Gran, or I’d be learning with Gramps
how to make things like chairs and cupboards and...” he trails off and stares
into space.

“He was a carpenter?” I ask
calmly.

“Yes.”

“And your Gran, did she work?”

“No, she wanted to be a
housewife.”

“I’m sorry Tristan. I wasn’t
knocking you or the way you were raised, just trying to get in your head so I
know how you feel, that’s all.”

“Know the feeling,” he retorts
with sarcasm. I sigh heavily.
Why are we arguing?

“What was your dog’s name?” I ask
brightly.

“Max.”

“What kind of dog was he?”

“Border Collie.”

“They’re cute and real
intelligent right?”

“Yep.” Tristan seems to have
withdrawn into himself. I don't understand it at all.

“You know, I understand my
reasons for clamming up about my past, but I don’t understand yours?”

“Nobody gets it that’s why, and I
always get
‘the look’
it’s very annoying.” I tense up feeling the
frustration rolling off Tristan.

“Am I giving you the look?” I ask
sullenly. Our eyes finally meet after what seems like a long time. Tristan
silently shakes his head at me, and I don’t know why, but I get up from my
chair and walk round to him. “Turn around.” I say.

Tristan moves so his legs are in
front of him, I take a seat on his lap and wrap my hands around his neck, his
arms slowly snake their way around my waist.

“I think it’s beautiful the way
you were raised, because it’s made you who you are today. And who you are right
now....it’s almost as though it’s all pre-ordained. Like I was meant to go
through what I went through and you were raised like that, so one day when we met,
we would be perfect for each other. I love that you are who you are. You’re the
only straight guy I’ve ever…felt...” I trail off, then I go into a mini panic.
I just used the word Love!
Fuck!

“I think what I’m trying to say
is that your upbringing turned you into a great man, a really wonderful, kind
loving man. The kind that’s perfect for me...” Breathe Coral.

“None of my exes thought that.”
Tristan says surprising me again. “And I’m far from perfect,” he adds glumly.

“Well I’m glad they thought that
because it means I get to have you.”
Am I really saying this?

“Well according to my exes I’m
boring, predictable...oh and too nice.”

“I’m sorry Tristan but that’s
bullshit, if anyone’s boring it’s me.”

“Believe me Coral, you are the
opposite of boring.” He says gazing up at me. I close my eyes for a second then
lean my forehead against his.

“Well just for the record you are
not boring or predictable. You’re dependable and sweet and charming and
well-mannered, which I love. And as for being too nice, that’s just crap...you
really must have dated some hard hearted bitches, who evidently wanted to get
themselves hooked up with some shallow, vain, bad-boy that would treat them
like crap.” I open my eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly after my
little rant.

“I think you have more to offer
than you could ever imagine Coral, but that’s probably because you don’t seem
to see yourself very clearly – or think you’re worthy.” He adds.
Whoa! Nail
on the head Tristan
. I take in a deep ragged breath.
What am I doing?