.: Chapter 7 :.
Strange Coincidences

“Hey, what are you doing?”

I looked up from what I was doing and saw Tristan leaning casually in the doorway of the kitchen. I gave a wary smile, and he smiled back, a much brighter one than mine. Planting a kiss on my cheek, he leaned over to see what I was doing.

“Chopping potatoes.” I said, stating the obvious. I looked down at the pile of yellow-brown mush that had accumulated on the cutting board and grimaced. I hadn’t exactly been focusing on the potatoes.

“More like murdering them.” Tristan laughed good-naturedly. I elbowed him in the ribs, and he tickled me. I gave a shriek and smeared some of the mush on his nose. I was extremely ticklish, and Tristan always seemed to find a good reason for exploiting that. I made a face at him, which made him laugh harder.

“Well, this is why I don’t like to work in the kitchen. I just wanted to give Stella a break. She’s been working really hard since we came back.” I cast my eyes downward, hiding my blush. It was a half-truth: I really was trying to help Stella out a bit. But I also had ulterior motives: namely, keeping my mind away from Ethan. Obviously, I thought as I glanced at the potatoes again, it didn’t quite work out that way.

“I’m guessing that the press conference didn’t go that well, if you’re trying to vent your anger on the poor potatoes.” Tristan said, becoming serious, but looking a little funny with the gob of mashed potatoes stuck to his nose. I wiped it off with a smile.

“No, it was pretty good. Kind of boring.” I replied, making a face as I dumped the entire pile of potatoes in the trash. I was sure Stella could make something else that didn’t involve potatoes. So much for helping her out. “Just a lot of really boring people asking a lot of really boring questions. They just kind of danced around the question that they wanted to ask until Dad came outright and shot the idea down. It unwound pretty quickly after that.”

That was a major understatement. For all the preparation that went into it, the press conference lasted less than half an hour. After Dad told them that it wasn’t true and that they should check their sources more carefully before reporting false information, a few reporters tried to ask Maddy and I some questions, only to be gunned down (figuratively speaking, of course) by Rob, who told them that the press conference was not about us. It was basically over at that point, even though the reporters seemed really reluctant to go.

“Anything else interesting happen?”

“Nope.” I said, perhaps a little too quickly. I kept myself busy running the cutting board under water. Nothing else except me running into my best friend, lose my temper and threaten some photographer, that sort of thing.

“Hmm…” Tristan made a disbelieving noise, and made to tickle me again. I squirmed away from him. Suddenly an idea occurred to me. I had resolved to be particularly thoughtful to Tristan because I still felt like I was emotionally betraying him by thinking about Ethan so much, and it was the best way to make it up to him.

“I’ll take you sightseeing tonight. There’s this really nice restaurant that you really have to go to if you ever visit Toronto, and then we can just, you know, wander around.”

“Sounds great.” Tristan replied, a twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of being holed up in the house, what’s this I hear about you not leaving the house since you came back?”

“Let me guess, Stella told you?” I feigned an angry expression, which obviously didn’t wash well, since he started laughing right after. “I really should ask her not to leak out information like that, even if it is to my boyfriend.”

“I’m not going to get a straight answer, am I?”

“Never.” I put on a teasing tone, giving him a quick peck on the lips. He didn’t know how close to the truth he was.

“Stella! I’m going out to eat with Tristan!”

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Tristan gave a low whistle as he stepped in the door of Serendipity, a small, chic restaurant that was a favorite of mine when I had lived here. I looked around myself and knew exactly how Tristan felt. It had obviously undergone some major renovations since I had been there last, with dim lights and art deco furnishings. There was also, I noted, a huge line of sophisticated executives tapping their perfectly polished pumps, waiting to get it.

“I don’t remember such a huge line-up the last time I was here.” I frowned as Tristan led me to the end of the line. From the looks of it, we weren’t going to get seats in a little while.

“I’m sure last time you came, your parents were here, so everyone fell all over themselves trying to get a little bit of that Morgan shine.” Tristan teased, giving my hand a squeeze.

“Like they might if they ever heard the name Matthew Williams?” I teased back. Matt Williams was the tycoon behind several shipping yards around the globe, and had made quite a name for himself when he started buying out a lot of other big yards. We were pretty comfortable with the fact that our parents were some of the most powerful people this side of the ocean, and teased each other relentlessly about it.

“At least my mom isn’t Patricia Graves. Your gene pool must be pretty damned…”

He would have continued, but the thin (try smaller than size 00) woman in front of us had turned around and was busy staring down her nose at us, which was pretty hard to do because Tristan was taller than her. She was probably the most clichéd female executive that I had ever set my eyes on: stern, unsmiling, and so thin that if she turned sideways she’d probably disappear. She actually reminded me a younger version of Anna Wintour. I could practically hear what she was thinking: why the hell are these bratty little teenagers in my restaurant?

“Hi, can I help you?” I asked her, donning an innocent expression.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” She said, her tone implying exactly the opposite. “But one does not throw around names like Matthew Williams and Patricia Graves like cheap beer at one of your little parties.”

“Yeah, we don’t drink beer at our parties, sorry.” Tristan replied, struggling to keep a straight face. It was, after all, the truth. I had a little more trouble, and had to bite my own tongue to stop myself from laughing aloud.

“If it makes you feel better, we won’t say those names in front of you anymore.” I said. I could almost see steam start to come out of her ears. By then, a couple of the people before her had caught the drift of scandal, and had turned around to see what the fuss was about. Someone’s eyes widened and I realized with a pang that we had been recognized. Great. “Please just turn around now. We’re not really bothering you, and I really don’t see why you have to start a scene over something so trivial.”

“I will have you know that I work for Matthew Williams.” She said pompously, her back going completely rigid. She reminded me of a rather arrogant peacock, and I couldn’t help but scrunch my nose in distaste.

“I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you.” Tristan grumbled quietly, just loud enough so that I could hear him, his face getting a little darker under his tan. I cracked up.

“Reservation for a Miss Sasha Morgan?” Someone called from inside. I looked around in confusion: I hadn’t made a reservation. When no one else walked to the front, I pulled Tristan with me into the restaurant. The woman’s mouth dropped, and she seemed to make the connection.

“Hi, I’m Sasha Morgan, but I…” didn’t make a reservation, I finished silently in my head, while the man that had called my name nodded politely and walked in, motioning for us to follow him. We trailed in after him, both more than a little confused, Tristan putting a protective arm around my shoulders. After climbing a flight of stairs, we were led into a spacious room with a floor-to-ceiling window with a breathtaking view of the CN Tower.

“This is the VIP room we reserve for special occasions.” The man smiled at us. “Having you here is indeed a special occasion. A waiter will be with you shortly.”

“I think he mistook us for someone important.” I said, awed, as the door clicked closed quietly behind us. The walls had been painted a rich, creamy beige, with a sort of raised leaf pattern that screamed wallpaper, but actually wasn’t. The table was small, seemingly designed for couples. The leaves of a plant swayed in some invisible breeze.

“I think he’s expecting a very large tip.” Tristan said, a little stunned himself. “How did they know who…”

“Um…news travels fast in a restaurant line-up? I don’t know.” I walked to the window, taking in the skyline. Sure, it wasn’t Manhattan, but it was charming in its own way. The last rays of the sun danced across the windows of the skyscrapers. “It’s pretty, though. And private. I can really appreciate privacy now, after what happened.”

“I feel kind of bad, though, for all those people waiting at the door.” Typical Tristan.

“Hmm…” I said in agreement. “But if all of them are like that woman that was before us, then I don’t feel so bad at all. You were kidding about putting in a word to your dad, though, right?”

“I don’t know. I think the look on her face was enough for me.” Tristan chuckled. “That was pretty funny, you have to admit.”

“Yeah, it was.” I giggled as I thought back to the gaping fish look that crossed her face when she realized that she had just been talked to her boss’ son. “But I’d rather we weren’t recognized, really.”

“Well, we’re here, so we might as well enjoy it.”

At that moment, the waiter came in. Seeing the two of us at the window, he seemed to get the impression that he was interrupting something, and immediately backed out of the room, apparently embarrassed. I grinned at Tristan, who called him back.

“I-I-I’m sorry.” The waiter stuttered. What is with everyone looking at me like I’m some kind of serial killer today? “I mean…I thought…you wanted some time alone.” He finished a little lamely.

“Actually, I’d like to eat. What about you, Sash?” Tristan feigned innocence.

“Same here.” I laughed. “We’ll take a little of everything. Except the crème brulée. I want the entire crème brulée.”

The waiter nodded once and, quite literally, ran out of the door.

“Well, he’s in a hurry.” I muttered as I turned toward Tristan. “What’s with everyone and treating me like Godzilla today?”

“I think you’re beautiful.” He kissed me. “And I wouldn’t, in a million years, call Godzilla beautiful, so no, you’re not Godzilla.”

I kissed him back, but half-heartedly. I had my hands full with Ethan, and the whole scandal business, and being angry (and trying to stay that way) at Maddy, that being with Tristan had suddenly slipped down a couple of notches on my priorities list. And then I felt bad, because I realized that I was doing it again, doing my little emotional cheating on Tristan routine. I pulled away with a sigh.

“Sasha, what’s wrong?”

“It’s…nothing.” I said, fingering the thin strap of my dress. And I’m lying out of my teeth and he probably knows.

“Sash, you can tell me anything you want, but I know that it’s not nothing. You’ve been miserable ever since you came here.” I looked up at him in confusion. In response, he shrugged and kissed me quickly. ”Stella told me.”

“I’m just…adjusting, that’s all. You should have seen Maddy.” I bit down on the inside of my mouth, tasting blood. Ethan would have said that that was a really lame way to skirt around a question, by trying to divert the attention on someone else. Tristan seemed to think so, too.

“Look, come to Muskoka. I probably have to leave in a few days. Or, better yet, come back to Manhattan with me.” Tucking a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, Tristan looked at me so earnestly that my heart began pounding rather painfully. “Come on, Sasha, your parents won’t mind. And you’re not happy here, I can tell. Doesn’t a year and a half of being with you give me some insight into your feelings?”

“I…” For a moment the offer was enticing. It was my way out of this whole mess, my escape. I could just disappear again, and come back when school starts. Another whole month and a half of no worrying, being with Tristan, in New York, three hundred miles away from here… “I don’t think I can, Tristan.” For a fleeting second, he looked crushed, but it was gone so quickly that I thought I must have imagined it.

“It’s okay. I know how important family is to you.” Tristan said, still smiling, but the smile had dropped a touch.

At that moment, the skittish waiter came back, arms laden with food.

“And that’s our cue to start eating.” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I silently thanked the stars for small blessings.

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“That was really good.” Tristan said a few hours later, as we came out of the Harbourfront Center. A chilly breeze had picked up, and I shivered a little as we neared the lake. Tristan had seemingly forgotten about the New York incident, and seemed to be having fun. I was, in a word, happier than I had been in a long time. It suddenly struck me that he might want to see my spot on the lake. It was this beautiful little strip of the beach that no one knows about, and hardly anyone ever visits, but it gave a breathtaking view of the skyline. The best part of it was how quiet it was, away from all the hustle and bustle of the city, and when the sky was clear, you could see a smattering of stars. It was my getaway place, and, after being so horrible to Tristan, I felt that he deserved to share it with me.

“Come on, there’s some place I want you to see.” I pulled him after me as I began to run, as quickly as I could in my sandals, laughing. I felt giddy, almost like I was drunk, but I hadn’t had anything to drink. I attributed it to the crème brulée. I pulled on his hand again. “Come on!”

“What about the car?” He yelled from behind me, a laugh in his voice.

“We’ll come back for it!” I shouted back as I ran faster, the wind whipping at my hair. We darted through the crowds of people, club-hoppers, theatre-goers, shoppers. By the time we got to the beach, I was laughing so hard I could barely stand up straight. I shushed him as we got closer to the place.

“Where are we going?” He whispered loudly.

“It’s my special place. I want you to know about it.”

In the pale moonlight, I could tell that he was touched, and I leaned forward to kiss him. “I love you.” I whispered, meaning every word. The kiss grew longer. I finally pulled away and walked towards the beach again, pulling on Tristan’s hand. I should have come back a long time ago, I realized, as the excitement in my heart mounted.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance when I realized that someone was sitting there, on the boulder that I always sat on whenever I came here. Not that I owned the place, but there was never anyone there. I stopped in my tracks, wondering what to do now.

Then the solitary figure stood up, and walked slowly towards us. He didn’t seem to know where he was going, and didn’t seem to realize that there was someone else here. Then, quietly…

“Sasha?”