Actually, I just lost my appetite. Cheeks flushed and mentally cringing at what she might think of me after what she had seen, I stammered, “I’m not that hungry---”
She rolled her eyes and – with her boyishly cut gray hair – I could imagine for a moment what Alyx would look like when she reached middle age. “Because of that boy?”
It took me a second to realize just who she was referring to as a boy. The redness in my cheeks deepened. “Of course not,” I lied quickly.
“Bah! Don’t bother. I know a smitten girl when I see one.” With a shake of her head, Glenda asked, “What happened?”
Do I tell her or not?
It only took me a second to decide. By now, it should be obvious that I had a tendency to share everything with practically everyone. I confessed what happened in last week’s bridal shower – well, the PG version of it at least – and ended with how Constantijin thought I was playing with him because I wasn’t giving in.
“But I’m not,” I cried out. The words came out louder and more passionate than I intended and I turned red again.
She patted my hand. “Hush, dear. Don’t feel bad. You’re not the first girl whose heart he’s broken.”
I said slowly, “If that’s supposed to make me feel good---”
“You are not even the first one I caught fooling around with my boy.”
I absolutely had no appetite now. “Ma’am---”
She smiled warmly. “Call me Glenda.”
I didn’t smile back.
She rolled her eyes again. “Oh, you! Stop sulking. You are special, dear. You might not be the first girl he’s hurt – certainly you’re not the first girl he’s had sex with---”
I had officially lost my appetite for the entire week.
“But dear,” she finished triumphantly, “You were the first one who made him celibate.”
That got me sitting up in my seat, unable to believe what she just said. Constantijin was so sexual that what she was saying was impossible. Every time we met, all he could think about was sex. And fine – every time we met, I thought about it, too, but it was among other things.
Seeing the incredulity in my eyes, she gave me a sharp nod. “I know my boy. He uses sex as an outlet and these days, he’s like a grouchy bear, snapping at every one.” She said explicitly, “That means no sex.”
Rubbing my suddenly aching head, I said, “I’m really glad you told me this, but…what should I do then?”
“It depends on what you want from him.”
I didn’t answer – I couldn’t, not just yet, not when I was unsure myself if Constantijin was really the man for me.
~~~~
Friday, George and I arrived at our hotel around noon, thanks to an early flight. The accommodations included in George’s prize were at a new boutique hotel. Small and classy but not as opulent as Caesar’s Palace, it was nonetheless charming, --- a girly hotel even, with its lavender-and-cornflower-blue décor.
“I’m starving,” I told George as he queued up at one of the check-in counters. “Check us in while I scout for food?” My stomach echoed my words with a growl.
George grinned. “You and your tummy,” he said but waved me away, telling me to leave my luggage with him.
There was a restaurant across the elevators, and before its glass doors was a small pastry station. I hurried towards it, my mouth watering. Food never failed to comfort me. They were reliable, unlike Dutch playboy billion---
Stop it, Yanna. Stop thinking about him!
I refocused on the sweets. Oh, but they looked yummy beyond belief! Eclairs. Cupcakes. Tarts. Macaroons. Truffles---
"Looks good, doesn't it?"
I was not hearing that.
I was just not hearing that.
Heart beating madly, loudly, and erratically, I slowly turned around.
It was Constantijin.
His slight crooked smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were intense and wary. Something ached in my heart at that look, making me realize he found this as nerve-wracking as I did.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” I said back because Constantijin in jeans totally rendered me speechless with awe. Constantijin in a suit was breathtaking, but in jeans – he was magnificent, every iota of his sexiness magnified by his tight-fitting shirt and equally tight-fitting denims. One look at him and you couldn’t help but think, f**k, f**k, f**k.
I mentally smacked my head against an imaginary wall. Stop thinking about sex, Yanna.
"Have you eaten lunch yet?"
I could only shake my head, still tongue-tied. Fuck, f**k, f**k. My mind was frozen at those words.
His smile turned into something real, and the sight of it melted the shell of pain that had surrounded my heart for so many days now. “You look great.” His eyes lingered on the rather low neckline of my summer dress, and I swallowed, embarrassed but aroused at the same time when I felt my br**sts responding, feeling heavy and aching as my ni**les came to life. Thank God for padding or I was so going to show.
I heard myself asking, “Are you staying here, too?”
Instead of answering, he said, “Will you let me book a table for us? You’re with George, right?”
I nodded even though I was a little confused at why he had to avoid my question.
He smiled, looking relieved, and that confused me even more.
He stepped forward, and I held my breath, wondering if he was going to kiss me. But all he did was lift his hand, knuckles grazing my cheek. It was all I could do not to close my eyes and rub my face against his hand like a kitten.
Constantijin said slowly, “I missed you, Yanna. More than I thought I would.” And then he was walking away. It was a good thing he did. If he hadn’t, he would have seen how a 24-year-old woman could melt into a hot, emotional mess.
Glenda was right. I was so, like, smitten to death with this guy.
“You are so f**ked.”
I jumped, whirling around to see a grinning George, one trolley on each hand. I grabbed mine from him as he asked slyly, “Is that who I think it is?”
“Nope.”
He let out a manly giggle, which drew looks from the other female customers ordering from the pastry station. I couldn’t blame them. Even with his dorky glasses and stiffly ironed checkered shirts, he was hotter than hot. It was just too bad for the rest of the female population he was g*y.
“You are so going to pay me a hundred dollars,” he teased.
It took me a long time to understand what he was talking about. "Oh. The bet, you mean?" I looked at Constantijin, who was a short distance away, talking to the maître d.