Chapter 16
The week had drained Colette—each day blurring into the next with relentless demands that left her weary and hollow. All she longed for was the solace of her bed, a sanctuary where she could retreat and sleep away the exhaustion of the past week. But the weekend loomed, stacked with a list of chores: grocery shopping with Zoe, a mountain of laundry, and other mundane tasks she had neglected. Amidst this sea of obligations was the date with Matt, an appointment that had gnawed at her thoughts and stolen her sleep for days.
Why had Matt invited her out? The question was a relentless whisper in her mind, echoing through her waking hours and disturbing her dreams. What was his motive? What could he possibly hope to achieve by reviving a semblance of the life they once shared, when everything between them was unraveling? Only time would tell. Yet, there was more at stake than just the enigmatic nature of the date. Colette needed to address the matter of Danny’s birthday—an event she hoped might draw Matt back into the embrace of his family. His siblings had drifted into their own lives, leaving Matt with a deep loneliness that only seemed to grow with time. Christmas and New Year’s brought fleeting joy, but the emptiness that followed was palpable. Colette had imagined a future where their own children would fill that void, but now, with their lives poised to diverge, she hoped to give him one last gift: a reason to reconnect with the family he had been so distanced from. Even if she couldn’t be part of that future, she wanted him to find solace and support in the ties of family.
Friday night arrived with the promise of a quiet evening. Zoe and Colette were nestled on the couch, lost in the world of television, when the ring of the doorbell sliced through the hum of the show. Zoe, always curious and cheerful, bounded to the door. Moments later, she returned with a smile that hinted at mischief.
“Red roses, Mum…” Zoe’s voice was bright, a stark contrast to the grey cloud that hovered over Colette’s heart. “Special delivery for you, Cole…” She grinned as she handed over the elegant bouquet, the deep red petals a striking contrast against the crisp white paper.
Colette accepted the flowers with a mixture of confusion and resignation. The card, inscribed in Matt’s familiar handwriting, bore a simple message: “Can’t wait for our date.”
The roses sat heavily in Colette’s hands, their vibrant color stark against the dull ache that had settled in her chest. And suddenly all of Zoe’s excitement over the flowers were gone. Zoe’s comment, dismissive and detached, did little to alleviate the storm brewing within her. “Doesn’t look that beautiful anyway,” Zoe muttered, turning her attention back to the television. But for Colette, the flowers were not just an object; they were a painful reminder of the gaping chasm between what was and what could have been.
As she stared at the roses, the contradictions of Matt’s gesture pierced her deeply. For the past two years, their marriage had been marked by distance and disconnection. Matt had never taken the time to offer such a gesture—no flowers, no personal notes. And now, as their relationship teetered on the brink of dissolution, he had chosen this moment to send her roses. What did it mean? Was it a desperate attempt to salvage something that was beyond repair, or a final, hollow gesture of regret?
Saturday's evening promised a gentle, idyllic escape, but as twilight fell, the weather turned hostile. By eight PM, when Matt arrived to pick Colette up, the sky was unleashing a torrential downpour. The rain pelted down in relentless sheets, turning the world outside into a blur of grey and silver.
As Matt stepped into Colette’s doorway, his presence was a welcome contrast to the stormy night. “You look wonderful, my darling,” he said, his voice warm and his smile genuine. He placed a brief, affectionate kiss on her cheek, the kind that was meant to soothe and reassure.
“You look good too,” she murmured, pressing her cheek against his as she took him in from head to toe. Matt’s appearance was as striking as ever—clean-shaven, his bright eyes locked onto her with a single-minded focus. Yet, Colette noticed a subtle change. He seemed to have lost a little weight recently, a detail she couldn’t ignore.
“Shall we go?” Matt’s question was light, but the moment carried an undercurrent of unspoken tension. Colette nodded, slipping her arm into his as they prepared to leave.
They were just about to step out when Zoe emerged from the kitchen. She was clad in freshly laundered pink pajamas, her hands occupied with a glass bowl brimming with popcorn. Her casual demeanor contrasted sharply with the intensity of the moment.
Zoe paused when she saw Matt and Colette. Her gaze flickered sideways, peering out the window and then past Matt, as if searching for something—or someone.
“Zoe?” Colette’s voice carried a note of curiosity tinged with irritation.
“Oh! Nothing. Just wondering where Ms. Iris was. Is she waiting in the car?” Zoe’s offhand remark was delivered with a nonchalant air, but the effect on Matt was immediate and explosive. His previously composed expression darkened into one of barely contained fury. His face flushed crimson, a color that seemed to radiate his growing rage.
“I see,” Zoe muttered, her gaze flicking between Matt’s enraged countenance and Colette’s uneasy silence. The joke had landed poorly, striking a nerve Matt clearly couldn’t tolerate. “Not interested in a threesome then, no?” Zoe’s playful taunt was a dangerous miscalculation, her tone light but her words cutting.
Colette sighed deeply as she exited the house, leaving behind the giggling Zoe and a visibly infuriated Matt. The atmosphere was charged, the joke having ignited an unspoken discord. Matt’s anger was palpable, and Colette felt the weight of the evening’s unease settle heavily on her shoulders.
She understood that any attempt to address the tension would only escalate the situation further. The idea of a peaceful evening seemed increasingly distant. With a resigned silence, Colette climbed into the car beside Matt. The drive was shrouded in an uneasy quiet, the rain outside mirroring the storm brewing within their relationship.
As the car glided through the downpour towards an undisclosed location, Colette’s thoughts were consumed by the upcoming birthday party. She needed to persuade Matt to attend, to bridge the gap between his past wounds and the family that still longed for his presence.
As the car glided through the city streets, the bustling restaurants and neon lights blurred past, signaling a shift from the lively nightlife to something more intimate. Colette, her curiosity piqued, turned to Matt. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and a hint of apprehension.
“Home,” Matt replied with a single, decisive word. It was as if that word alone held the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions. Colette’s heart sank at the realization. His penthouse—the place she once called home—had become a place of estrangement. She had no claim to it now, and the thought struck her with a palpable sense of loss.
“I had asked Mrs. Rose to cook your favorites tonight. Plus, we’ll be able to relax there, instead of a restaurant full of patrons.” His tone was gentle, but the underlying implication was clear. Colette was relieved by the prospect of a quiet evening, away from prying eyes.
“You should have told me earlier then,” she replied, glancing down at her maroon off-shoulder dress. It was a gift from Matt, a reminder of happier times. “I wouldn’t have dressed up.”
“Are you kidding me?” Matt’s voice was laced with admiration. “Why would I miss a chance to see you all decked up like that? You look gorgeous...” His compliment was cut short by a deep, primal groan, the intensity of his gaze revealing a shift in focus. The atmosphere between them crackled with unspoken tension.
Without warning, Matt’s hands found their way to her neck, his touch igniting a fire that had long lain dormant. He pulled her close, capturing her lips in a kiss that was fierce and unrestrained. It was as if he was trying to reclaim something he had lost, pouring all his longing and frustration into that single, desperate act. His hands roamed over her body with a palpable urgency, tracing the curves of her form as though he was rediscovering her.
The kiss was an overwhelming torrent of passion, a symphony of desire and need. His touch was both rough and tender, each movement a testament to the intensity of his feelings. The car’s confined space seemed to intensify the moment, the rain outside a backdrop to their fevered embrace.
When Matt finally pulled away, his breath ragged, a low groan escaped him. Colette noticed his disheveled appearance, his hands adjusting his pants as he tried to regain his composure. The sight made her blush, but a small, flickering hope ignited in her chest.
Could it be that Matt’s decision to take her home was driven by something more than just a desire to avoid a crowded restaurant? The realization that he still wanted her with such intensity sparked a flicker of hope. Had Iris not yet filled the space she had left behind? Or was it possible that Matt’s desires were still anchored to her, rather than to the woman he was supposed to be with?
The thought was both thrilling and painful. It made her question whether Matt’s desire for her was a sign of something deeper—whether she still held a place in his heart. But it also left her wondering if she fell short of his expectations or if his longing was simply a remnant of their past.
Despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within her, Colette clung to the hope that tonight might bring a breakthrough. They held hands in the car, their fingers entwined, and as the vehicle navigated through the city, Colette allowed herself a small, tentative smile. It was the first genuine smile she had worn in weeks, a fragile sign of hope amidst the lingering angst.