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Chapter 51: The Truth.
Lily's EcstasyI know everyone was actually expecting the forbidden affair. But, if you would ask me—Sandra isn't the good girl she claimed she is. Although Tessy has her own issues, but you see right through her. With Tessy you know exactly what you're expecting. But with Sandra, you should be careful. That's just my opinion. What do you think?
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Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 52: The Mirror.
I know what he wants to say: I had hooked up with Jon even though Sandra was interested in him. "Oh, give me a freaking break, Andrew. Jon was not Sandra's boyfriend! They had kissed, like, one time. It was never going to go anywhere." "I wasn't thinking of Jon." "So then what were you thinking of?" "Well . . . I just think that you would do the same thing to Sandra if the circumstances presented themselves. If you had fallen in love with one of her boyfriends, nothing would have stopped you from going after him. Nor Sandra's feelings, nor the stigma of taking your best friend's man. Nothing." "No," I said firmly. "That's not true." " I think you have a long, long history of going after exactly what you want, Tessy. Whatever that is. Come hell or high water. Until now, Sandra has always played second fiddle to you. And you shamelessly let her do the whole lady-in-waiting routine. All through high school she was at your beck and call, letting you show off. You liked it that way. A
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 53: Self-realization.
I woke up to the rays of sunlight that crept into the room and onto my face. And I suddenly felt a little thud coming from a particular side of my belly. Was it my baby that just kicked? Did she know that mommy is sad? There has been other times when I thought I felt her—only to realize that it was likely just indigestion or hunger pangs. But there's no confusing it today—an unmistakable sensation of tiny feet moving inside, churning up against my organs and bones. I put my hand on the spot, right under my rib cage, as I waited to feel my baby girl again. And sure enough, I felt another small but distinct nudge and twitch. This is really crazy, considering that my stomach is now the size of a basketball and that it took the flutter of baby feet for my pregnancy to move beyond theoretical and feel real. I can't believe it—that I have a baby inside of me, an actual little person who is going to be born in a few short months. I am going to be a mother. In a way, I am already. I curl
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 54: A New Me.
I stared out my barred window into the clear but dreary London morning. Today that I felt my baby first kick, I will make a turning point in my life. I will prove to Andrew that I am not the bad person he had described me as, last night. I stood up, found a pad of paper in the bottom of one of my suitcases. I ripped out a page and wrote: "Steps to Becoming a Better Tessy."I hesitated by replaying Andrew's speech in my head again and then, I started scribbling . . . 1. Visit an ob-gyn in London and prepare for motherhood. 2. Be more healthy, i.e., eat better, no caffeine or alcohol. 3. Get myself some new girlfriends (no competition with them). 4. Inform my family that I'm in London and that I'm okay. 5. Get a job (preferably a do-gooding job). 6. Stop buying clothes (and shoes and bags etc.) and start saving money! I examined my list and it looks like something is missing and so I put down my last number. 7. Refine my character (i.e., be less selfish and sel
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 55: The Blonde And The Brunette.
On my way home, I ducked inside a coffee shop for a short rest, ordered a decaffeinated latte, and hunkered down in a big overstuffed armchair. On the couch next to me sat two women—a blonde and a brunette—who looked about my age. The blonde balanced a baby on one knee as she struggled to eat a brownie with her free hand. Both ladies wore tiny diamonds on their left ring fingers, just as Andrew once told me that the Brits are less ostentatious about engagement rings than Americans. I think that is one of the reasons why Andrew likes London. The Brits' understated quality is the opposite of what he said I am—more or less a shameless showoff.From the corner of my eyes, I studied the women. The blonde has a weak chin but good highlights; the brunette wore gripping aqua velour sweats but held an enviable Prada bag. I know I'm not being shallow for checking out her clothing. I am just being observant, which is a very good virtue. What isn't okay, is drawing conclusions about the women as
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 56: No More Impulses.
I waited at the door for Andrew to return home. A bowl of homemade Greek salad and a glass of wine were carefully placed on the dining table by me while classical music played from his stereo. Andrew walked into the living room with a confused expression."Welcome home!" I said, smiling nervously as I ran back to the dining table to get him his glass, and handed it to him carefully to avoid spilling the wine.He took it from me tentatively, sipped, and looked around his apartment. "It looks great in here. Smells good too. Did you clean?"I nodded. "mhmm. I scoured the place. I even cleaned your room," I said. "Still think I'm a lousy friend?"He took another sip and sat on his couch. "I didn't say that exactly."I sat next to him. "Yes you did."He gave me a half-smile. "You can be a good friend when you try, Tessy. You tried today. Thank you."And the "thank you" is enough for me. Of course the old me would have held out for an *'outstanding'* apology coupled with a complete retract
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 57: Wishes And Madeline.
This morning, I was prodded by another series of kicks from my baby. Andrew has already left for the day, so I used his computer to type up my résumé and a quick cover letter, which articulately explained that my success in the world of public relations had everything to do with my outgoing personality, and that certainly this quality would skyrocket the success rate of any company I'm employed to.I spell-checked the letter, opting for the British spelling of the words 'colourful' and 'organised'.Then, I showered, dressed, and headed out into the London chill to apply for a job at the nursing home Orla and Meg had told me about. * * ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** I arrived at the nursing home and got blasted by the district and depressing odor of old people and institutional food. I immediately felt a wave of morning sickness. I rummaged my purse, found a mint and drew deep breath through my mouth.I studied two little old ladies in matching floral smocks parked in the lobby. As I watch
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 58: Strangely Territorial.
"Andrew!" I squealed. My voice sounded loud in the small, quiet room. "Hey, there!"I caught Madeline giving me a look, perhaps disapproving of my outburst. Even the American couple that was consulting a guidebook, gave me a disapproving once-over. No one likes a loud American and I regretted my sudden excited outburst that shook the place. "Hey Tessy," Andrew said, as he approached my table. "How did it go at the nursing home?" Andrew must have returned to the flat, because I left him a note about my job-hunting mission. "Not so well. But I bought a paper to check the classifieds. Have a seat," I said, moving my purse and binder to clear a chair for him. "I'm so glad you're here. I was just thinking about you. How do you work this little contraption again?" I asked, motioning towards the tea strainer. Without sitting down, Andrew leaned over my table, efficiently placed the strainer over my cup with one hand, and poured from the silver pot with the other. "Have a seat," I said
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 59: A Savoring Extremist.
Sprawled on Andrew's couch, half-asleep, waiting for Andrew with a pit in my stomach as I listened to a Norah Jones CD. Andrew came back and walked into the sitting room looking over at me with a concerned expression on his face. "What time is it?" I asked."Should be Ten," he said, standing over me. "Have you eaten?""Yes," I said. "You?" He nodded. "Where have you been?" I asked, feeling like a suspicious wife who just found a smear of red lipstick on her husband's starched white shirt. "Writing.""Sure you were," I said, trying to sound nonchalant and playful. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, motioning for me to move over and clear a space for him.I lifted my legs long enough for him to sit and then rested my feet on his thighs. "It means, were you really writing or were you hanging out with Capucine?" I asked in a sing-songy way that kids say, "Andrew and Capucine sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!""I really was writing," he said innocently. "How did you spend your
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