Paris and Dave: Breakfast
Jul. 7th, 2005 02:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rohansonWe’re heading up the coast to the hotel, and Izzy is driving. She refused to let Steve get behind the wheel of her shiny new SUV, and I had to smile at his hangdog expression. So he’s giving Dave a running commentary of places we pass. We’re heading up early, because Jas, who is travelling behind us with Jack in his sporty little Mazda, is supervising the food, and wants everything to be perfect.
I have to admit, my heart was pounding in my chest when we walked through the doors of 69 this morning, and Jason was standing there, waiting for me. I realised later that Steve had steered Dave through into the private dining room to give us some time alone. And for a little while, there was no-one else in the world but us. He walked towards me, a soft smile playing around his mouth. His long dark hair was pulled back, and I resisted the urge to reach round and pull the tail of the leather thong holding it in place … but only for a moment. My hand twitched forward and a curtain of black silk fell across his shoulders, and hung by the sides of his face.
My actions were automatic, I couldn’t have stopped them if I tried, and I didn’t want to. My hand cupped his face, and my thumb grazed his sculpted cheekbone. The cheekbone I had shattered seven years ago with my fist. My fingers began to shake.
His hand came up to cover mine, and the touch of his fingers bridged the gap of years, as if my skin remembered every whorl of his fingertips. I thought speaking to him on the phone had finished things, given me closure, but I could not have been more wrong.
“Jas, I’m sorry, so sorry …” There were tears in my eyes, and his smile saddened as he put his arms around me, and held me until I got back my control. I’ve never been a fan of organised religion, always thought it was responsible for many of this world’s woes, but at that moment, I knew what it felt like to beg for absolution. Silently, I ached for forgiveness, and he gave it with the touch of his hand and the look in his eyes …
Dave’s fingers brush mine lying between us on the leather seat. I realise Steve’s litany has stopped for now, and Izzy is asking him if he remembered to bring his suit. I smile at the little pause, not sure if it’s there to wind her up or if he genuinely has to consider the answer. Dave’s hand slips around mine, and I snuggle against him.
Breakfast itself went pretty well. By the time Jas and I joined the group, Steve had introduced Dave to Izzy, his fiancé whose curly brown hair perfectly frames her sparkling green eyes, and to Jas’s partner, Jack. David Jackson nicknamed Jack in college, a nickname which luckily for us stuck, lessening the opportunity for confusion this weekend.
They’d all got stuck into the pitcher of mimosas before we joined them, but one glance had told me that even a couple of glasses hadn’t made a dent in how nervous Dave was feeling. His eyes had caught mine as we walked in and I could see the concern in them. I smiled as I sat down beside him, squeezing his hand before introducing him to Jason.
The food was amazing. Each dish cooked with someone in mind, but with more than enough of everything to share around. Buckwheat blinis topped with smoked salmon and sour cream with dill for Steve and Izzy. It had been what they had eaten on their first date, she had explained with a smile for Steve that actually had him blushing. French toast with wild ceps and maple syrup for Jack, smoked haddock kedgeree for me, and the lightest, fluffiest scrambled eggs for Dave, sprinkled with marjoram and served with red onion marmalade. Jas helped himself to a little of everything, and when we were done, coffee was served with a pile of little brioche with salty butter and raspberry conserve.
Good food and good company had helped ease those first raw feelings of seeing him again after so long, and it was good to see Dave put at his ease too by the obviously strong and happy relationship Jas and Jack have. We must have been at the table for over two hours. Jack was telling us about their holiday in France the year before, and the truffle hunting expedition Jas had nagged him to go on when Izzy reminded us we had to be on our way. So we piled out to the cars, still laughing at the tale of Jas being dragged through the woods by a pig on a lead, with the promise of pictures to follow.
We slow down as we reach the turning, and I can see the hotel nestled down on the shore. There’s not too much to do, Steve wants to check that the hotel has got everything just right, but that won’t take long. Dave pushes the hair back from my eyes, and I smile at him. We should have more than enough time to wander barefoot down the beach a little later, just the two of us, so I can tell him how much I love him and how glad I am he came with me. And to give him a moment of calm before he meets the family …
I have to admit, my heart was pounding in my chest when we walked through the doors of 69 this morning, and Jason was standing there, waiting for me. I realised later that Steve had steered Dave through into the private dining room to give us some time alone. And for a little while, there was no-one else in the world but us. He walked towards me, a soft smile playing around his mouth. His long dark hair was pulled back, and I resisted the urge to reach round and pull the tail of the leather thong holding it in place … but only for a moment. My hand twitched forward and a curtain of black silk fell across his shoulders, and hung by the sides of his face.
My actions were automatic, I couldn’t have stopped them if I tried, and I didn’t want to. My hand cupped his face, and my thumb grazed his sculpted cheekbone. The cheekbone I had shattered seven years ago with my fist. My fingers began to shake.
His hand came up to cover mine, and the touch of his fingers bridged the gap of years, as if my skin remembered every whorl of his fingertips. I thought speaking to him on the phone had finished things, given me closure, but I could not have been more wrong.
“Jas, I’m sorry, so sorry …” There were tears in my eyes, and his smile saddened as he put his arms around me, and held me until I got back my control. I’ve never been a fan of organised religion, always thought it was responsible for many of this world’s woes, but at that moment, I knew what it felt like to beg for absolution. Silently, I ached for forgiveness, and he gave it with the touch of his hand and the look in his eyes …
Dave’s fingers brush mine lying between us on the leather seat. I realise Steve’s litany has stopped for now, and Izzy is asking him if he remembered to bring his suit. I smile at the little pause, not sure if it’s there to wind her up or if he genuinely has to consider the answer. Dave’s hand slips around mine, and I snuggle against him.
Breakfast itself went pretty well. By the time Jas and I joined the group, Steve had introduced Dave to Izzy, his fiancé whose curly brown hair perfectly frames her sparkling green eyes, and to Jas’s partner, Jack. David Jackson nicknamed Jack in college, a nickname which luckily for us stuck, lessening the opportunity for confusion this weekend.
They’d all got stuck into the pitcher of mimosas before we joined them, but one glance had told me that even a couple of glasses hadn’t made a dent in how nervous Dave was feeling. His eyes had caught mine as we walked in and I could see the concern in them. I smiled as I sat down beside him, squeezing his hand before introducing him to Jason.
The food was amazing. Each dish cooked with someone in mind, but with more than enough of everything to share around. Buckwheat blinis topped with smoked salmon and sour cream with dill for Steve and Izzy. It had been what they had eaten on their first date, she had explained with a smile for Steve that actually had him blushing. French toast with wild ceps and maple syrup for Jack, smoked haddock kedgeree for me, and the lightest, fluffiest scrambled eggs for Dave, sprinkled with marjoram and served with red onion marmalade. Jas helped himself to a little of everything, and when we were done, coffee was served with a pile of little brioche with salty butter and raspberry conserve.
Good food and good company had helped ease those first raw feelings of seeing him again after so long, and it was good to see Dave put at his ease too by the obviously strong and happy relationship Jas and Jack have. We must have been at the table for over two hours. Jack was telling us about their holiday in France the year before, and the truffle hunting expedition Jas had nagged him to go on when Izzy reminded us we had to be on our way. So we piled out to the cars, still laughing at the tale of Jas being dragged through the woods by a pig on a lead, with the promise of pictures to follow.
We slow down as we reach the turning, and I can see the hotel nestled down on the shore. There’s not too much to do, Steve wants to check that the hotel has got everything just right, but that won’t take long. Dave pushes the hair back from my eyes, and I smile at him. We should have more than enough time to wander barefoot down the beach a little later, just the two of us, so I can tell him how much I love him and how glad I am he came with me. And to give him a moment of calm before he meets the family …
