Page 43 of Until You Came Along
I kept walking and, once the robe was in place and the belt well-fastened, I went back to open the door.
“I told you this garment wasn’t necessary,” he said, looking me up and down.
“Good evening, Hermes. What are you doing here at this hour?”
“May I come in?”
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside to let him pass.
I closed the door and turned to look at him. He was standing a few feet away from me and looking at me strangely. I think it was the first time I’d noticed him nervous. It was very odd seeing him in that position because he always presented himself as a self-assured person.
“What brings you here at this hour? If I remember correctly, we agreed we would talk tomorrow.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here, it is ‘tomorrow’ already,” he stated.
“What?”
“I already told you that you need to stop saying that. May I sit down?”
“I think we both know that when I said ‘tomorrow,’ I was referring to a time during the ‘day’ and not the early morning hours.”
“You didn’t specify. May I sit down?” he asked again.
“Sit down,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Would you like coffee or tea?”
“No, thank you. I want you to give me your answer,” he said seriously.
“Impatience, one more flaw to add to your personality.”
“Don’t try to be funny and tell me what you’ve decided,” he said very solemnly.
I approached the sofa and sat down at the other end, with Hermes’s gaze fixed on me the entire time.
“I’m not going to accept your proposal, I’m sorry.”
“What?” he asked, looking at me with disbelief.
“You need to stop saying that,” I said, repeating what he always said to me and trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work.
“Are you telling me you don’t accept me?”
“That’s not what I said. It’s not you I’m rejecting, I’m saying I don’t accept the type of relationship you’re proposing.”
“And what is it that you want?” he asked, looking at me seriously, once again taking his defensive posture.
“What I want, you’ve already made clear that you can’t or won’t give me, so I’m the one refusing to enter into a relationship where I’m very likely to end up hurt.”
He looked at me and let out an ironic laugh.
—“Feelings. Darling, you’re wrong, it’s when feelings get mixed in that you get hurt, that’s exactly why they should be left out,” he expressed in a mocking tone.
—“That’s your way of thinking, not mine, and I don’t see why you’re mocking me. You know, your mockery says more about your frustrations than mine.”
—“Frustrations? What do you know about my life to talk like that?” he asked, not raising his voice, but I could tell he was furious about my comment.
—“I don’t know anything, just as you don’t know anything about mine. It’s better if we pretend nothing happened between us.”
—“Is that really what you want? Because I remind you that last night you were trembling and moaning with pleasure in my arms.”
