Chapter 25

Gemma

When I woke up, I was lying on top of him. We were on the carpeted floor, in front of the gilded mirror. Vincent was under me, his arms wrapped lazily around my waist, his legs spread apart to accommodate my body. I had been sleeping with my head on his chest, I could still feel the warm imprint of his skin on my cheek.

My hair had come undone, and my red lipstick from the previous night was smudged all around my lips and cheeks. I had been sleeping facing down, my body pressed to his.

Vincent was sleeping noiselessly; his breathing was even and subtle, and his eyelids didn’t as much as flicker. What was he dreaming about?

I only had to fidget slightly for his arms that had been holding me loosely to fall to the sides. I slid away from him, kneeling on the carpet beside him. My skin was still tingling from the comfort of sleeping with his arms around me.

It was the dreaded morning, early still, but in a few hours it would be time for me to leave. Would he come to the airport to see me off? I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want to see his face as I said goodbye. Vincent had changed my life, and he didn’t even know it.

I stood up and staggered over to the bathroom to wash my face. My phone was still lying on the table next to the bathtub. Naked to the bone, I walked over and switched it on. I really didn’t care anymore.

But I was surprised to find that neither of my parents had texted since our last conversation. Worried, guilty, heartbroken… I called my mother. She answered after several rings.

“Mom?” I said, my voice breaking as I heard her breath at the other end.

“Hello, Gemma,” she said dejectedly. I could sense that she had given up. Didn’t she care anymore either?

“What’s wrong?” I asked, walking over and sitting down on the lidded toilet seat.

“Nothing is wrong, Gemma. What could possibly be wrong? We just have no idea where our daughter is. Your father is sick, and we don’t hear from you unless you call to tell us you’re not coming home.” She sounded exhausted. Had she stayed awake all night, worried for me?

“I know, Mom, I’m sorry. What’s wrong with Dad?” I asked, my brows creasing with worry. I could hear him coughing again in the background and Mom sighed.

“The same. His lungs have gotten worse, nothing new. You don’t have to worry about it,” Mom said. I could imagine her pacing the small floor space at the front of the trailer. I could picture Dad sitting on the tattered couch by the window, looking out at the deserted trailer park. The couch had holes in them now, and I had been hoping for the past six months that I would be able to save enough money to buy him a new one.

I caught sight of the luxurious bathroom I was sitting in now, the gold faucets in the bathtub, the marble floor… My breath caught in my throat. What was I doing?

“I’m coming home today, Mom. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish for the past few days,” I said, recognizing the tear in my voice.

Mom sighed again, like she didn’t believe me. Her initial anger had turned to worry, and now had turned to apathy. Her beloved daughter had become someone else.

“Someone in the diner recognized the man you’re with. Some big shot businessman from California? You’re shacked up with someone who is buying you fancy things, aren’t you?” Mom said, but surprisingly she didn’t have any malice in her voice. She just sounded tired.

“It’s not like that, Mom. It’s not about his money. Anyway, I’m coming home now,” I said, nearly at the brink of tears. It was like I was in a daze all these days and now finally the clouds were clearing. I could see the truth in what Mom was saying. Was that technically what it was? I had been foolish enough to be lured by Vincent’s luxurious lifestyle?

“Sure, honey. Tell yourself that. Why are you coming home now? Is he kicking you out? Is he done with you then?” she continued, still in that voice that dripped of exhaustion.

Dad was coughing again. He needed his medicine. I needed to find a job.

“No, Mom, it’s not like that, just… just… I’ll be home in a few hours. And I’m sorry,” I said, hanging up the phone just as a volley of tears gushed up the back of my throat. The phone fell to the floor, and I caught my face with both my hands. What had I done! Why couldn’t I see the truth in this situation before? I had repeatedly fallen for Vincent’s charm and his lifestyle, when I should have forgotten about him a long time ago. This wasn’t my life. Just like he had a duty to his business and his family, I had a duty to mine as well, no matter where I lived.

I had my face covered with both my hands when I heard Vincent’s voice at the door. I jerked my head up to look at him as he stood leaning against the door frame. He had put on a pair of jeans, and his thick muscular arms remained crossed over his chest. He was looking at me from under heavy lids, his face softened by the morning light.

“How can I make this right, Gemma?” he asked.

****

Vincent had found me a robe from the back of his closet, one that he never wore. It was in pristine egg-shell white and soft cuddly cotton, and I tied the belt around my waist. I really couldn’t have this conversation with him while I was naked.

We had come back to the bedroom, and Vincent now stood in front of the large ceiling-to-floor windows, with his wide back against the sun. I was sitting cross-legged on his bed, nursing a mug of his Colombian ground coffee, two mugs of which he had asked Tim to bring up a few minutes ago.

“Now, tell me what’s going on with you,” he said when we had settled into our places, and after we had been staring at each other in silence for some time.

I breathed in deeply. “I don’t know what you want to know,” I replied, avoiding his gaze.

“You were talking to your mother on the phone? I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Your voice woke me up,” he said, keeping a steady gaze on me. He didn’t seem like he was going to back down this time.

“Yes, I was,” I said, gulping.

“I wasn’t aware that you were close to your parents. I don’t even know who you have in your family,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

I took a long sip of the coffee and looked back at him. “Just me and my parents,” I replied and Vincent nodded gently.

“And you’re close to them?” he asked, stressing on the word ‘close.’ He had heard me talking intimately to Mom earlier; something told me that he shared a very formal relationship with his own parents.

“You could say that, I suppose. I don’t exactly have a choice,” I said, mustering up all the courage I could find. If this was going to be our last conversation, it might as well be an honest one. I didn’t really have anything to lose any more.

“Why don’t you have a choice?” he asked and our eyes met again. Vincent’s brows were crossed, he looked a little surprised, and I didn’t know how exactly to frame the words. I didn’t know what his reaction was going to be once he learned the truth.

“I live with them,” I said and felt the breath being knocked out of me.

Vincent was looking at me and his expression remained unchanged. He neither looked surprised nor amused. I wasn’t sure how he had taken the information.

“I’m twenty-six years old and I live with my parents. There you have it,” I said and took another long sip of the coffee. I kept my eyes on him to study his face, but it remained unchanged. It was like he was expecting to hear some more.

“Aren’t you even a little bit surprised? Or are you trying to not hurt my feelings?” I asked, shaking my head at him.

Vincent squared his shoulders and blinked at me. “Why would I be surprised? I didn’t know anything about you. I didn’t know what to expect,” he said and I felt my cheeks burning up. Did he really think that little of me? That he had no expectations from me at all?

“And we live in a trailer park. I’ve grown up in a trailer; I’ve lived there all my life. My parents could never afford a real house.” The words came tumbling out of me without control. I could feel my hands shaking as they gripped the mug of coffee. Finally, there was some movement from Vincent’s side. He had clenched his jaw and was now walking over to me.

“Is that what you’ve been trying to keep from me?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Of course, I have!” I snapped, annoyed now. How could he ask me such a thing?

“Why?” he asked, he was looking at me indulgently as he came over.

“Because I didn’t want you to judge me. I wanted us to keep having a great time,” I said, following his every movement with my eyes.

“And you thought that for some reason, your house was going to come in the middle of that?” he asked, his face breaking into a full smile now. Was he mocking me? Was this funny to him?

“I didn’t know what to think,” I said, my voice dropping by several decibels. Vincent was close to me now, standing in front of me with his legs spread apart.

“Was that why you kept running away from me? Why you think you don’t belong in my world? Because of a trailer park?” he asked and reached out his hand toward me. His fingers touched my cheek and my lips quivered automatically. What was going on? This was not what I had expected to unfurl.

“Maybe,” I whispered as he stroked my cheek with his large rough thumb. I could breathe in his scent now. His dark wavy hair was ruffled and fell low on his neck. He was still shirtless, and I could see his chiseled abs. He was an unbelievable delicious sight, and he was smiling at me as he stood.

“You’ve been underestimating me from the start, Gemma. You really thought that such material things would matter to me?” he said in a gruff low voice. He nearly sounded offended. The smile was gone, and he looked like he was hurt by what I had said.

“It’s true, Vincent. I don’t belong in your world. You have no idea what my world looks like,” I said and he dropped his hand from my cheek. To my surprise, he was nodding. Something had changed in him.

“You’re right. I don’t know what your world looks like. Maybe I was too rash in asking you to come here. You’re right to want to leave, of course you are,” he said and I could hear my heart thumping. It was loud enough for him to hear as well. This was the end of my fairytale.

“I should come with you and have a look,” he added.