Milky Coffee and Office Gossip (8 page)

The gifts started one week after their phone call. Corey hadn’t seen Remy since then. Mandy, who’d been more than happy to share the gossip, had told him his ex-lover was busy in court and wouldn’t come back to Harding Constructions any time soon.

The weekend after their break-up, Corey had hoped against hope that Remy would call or at least text. A dumb wish because he’d been the one ruining everything.

Remy’s promise that they weren’t through, that he’d prove how much he wanted Corey, still rang in his head. Corey didn’t know what to make of it. Would Remy fight for him? Or had his promise been a reaction to Corey’s rejection? The man loved to win, after all. It must irk him that his geeky lover had had the guts to brush him off.

Not knowing what to expect, he’d cried himself into sleep for three days. When that hadn’t cured his heartsickness, he’d watched Dirty Dancing three days in a row and eaten his own weight in ice-cream. Denial had been the next step. Corey had cleaned his whole house, listening to hard rock and trying to convince himself that he’d never been in love with the sexy fucker anyway. The cleaning phase had lasted two days. Then, Saturday and Sunday, he’d curled up in his bed, and quite pathetically, sniffed his pillows to enjoy the last traces of Remy’s scent.

Now, on Monday, he felt ten years older and like something the cat had retched up. Oh, he looked that way, too. Corey guessed he looked even dumber when he opened the door to his office. Somehow, somebody had left him a present on his desk, although he always locked his office in the evening.

A beautiful peppermint plant in a bronzed pot sat on his desk. A cream envelope with his handwritten name leaned against it.
What the hell?

With trembling fingers, Corey first touched the little green peppermint leaves, then grabbed the envelope. He opened it and found, again handwritten, a letter. Who sent handwritten letters nowadays? Just reading the first line made him sob like the basket case he was.

My dear Corey,

Peppermint means
Please forgive me
in the language of flowers. I know how much you love flowers. So I thought it a fitting arrangement to bring my point across.

I promised to woo you and chose the wonderful, old-fashioned way of a love letter. Back in time, a love letter helped two people get to know each other. Sometimes they spent weeks and months writing letters before they met for the first time. A skillfully written love letter could win the heart of another person and result in a happy marriage.

Our relationship, no matter what label we want to put on it, started as a connection of two bodies. Not old-fashioned at all. I guess it’s the missing connection of our hearts that led you to breaking off with me. Let me tell you, it’s not missing at all. I just have some serious hang-ups, so please allow me to deepen our connection by writing you those letters.

You accused me of being too secretive and unwilling to communicate my feelings. You’re right. I’m sorry and I want to change my behavior because now I see how much it hurt you. With every new day, I plan to show you exactly what I feel. Not only for you, but in general. Each day will bring another little gift so you can get to know me better.

You need to know, I’m a stubborn and determined guy. And I fight to win. You’re the one I long to win. You and your heart. So no, it’s not over.

I say it again. Please forgive me for not telling you that you mean more to me than casual sex. For not telling you it’s been more than an affair for me. For taking your affection and tenderness for granted. For not giving you what you deserve. Honesty.

This isn’t an excuse, but an explanation. I never learned how to express my feelings properly. My mother left without looking back when I was ten because she couldn’t live with my father’s affairs any longer. My father was never what you’d call dad of the year. He demanded obedience and performance, was proud of me succeeding in law school, but cut me off when I told him I was gay. I haven’t seen him since the day he told me to turn straight or leave his house.

Since then, I’ve felt lost. The job held me together and no man I’ve met affected me enough to wish for more than a quick romp. I wanted to hold everybody at arm’s length so nobody could hurt me.

Everything changed the day a cute, shy accountant soaked me in cold coffee. A man, whose gentle and caring heart is even more stunning than the obvious beauty of his face. A man, who managed to wrap me around his little finger in only five weeks and turned my world upside down. Not something I would’ve enjoyed in the past. Now, I long for the joy you brought into my life, your beautiful smile, and the twinkle in your eyes when something spikes your interest. I long for waking up to your smell and the feel of your body pressed against mine in the morning.

Maybe you’ll give me the chance to get to know you better, and the chance to tell you more about myself. Enjoy your peppermint! I’m sure it’ll find a place in your lovely kitchen slash solarium. Plus, you can use it to create a delicious meal.

I hope to see you soon.

Sincerely yours,

Remington

At the end of the letter, Corey was sobbing uncontrollably. Remington was apologizing to him? Corey should apologize for what he’d thought about this wonderful man. Based on his colleagues’ nasty gossip, whose victim he’d been himself, Corey had judged Remy so terribly wrong.

His lover had put so much thought into this gift it warmed his heart. And the sweet guy wanted to send more? Remy had freely admitted to know nothing about flowers and yet he’d chosen this unique way of... well, wooing. It showed how deeply Remy cared for Corey’s interests, his passions and feelings.

Oh, what a wonderful letter. Obviously, his lover was finally ready to open himself. The way he went about it was utterly romantic. Maybe they had a chance after all.

That evening, Corey spent hours in his kitchen, thinking about the wild yet tender moments he and Remy had enjoyed in this room. Later he sat down with a cup of fresh peppermint tea and wrote a short response.

Dear Remy,

I’ve never gotten a love letter before and yours is a pleasant surprise. Thank you so much. I’d never have guessed that you’ve got a secret, romantic streak! Such dedication deserves a chance, so I eagerly look forward to your next letter.

The peppermint found a lovely place on the kitchen counter, although it lost some leaves already. The result is a tasty, small serving of peppermint ice-cream. I placed it in the freezer for later use. I’d love to sample it with you someday.

With love,

Corey

* * * *

Remy sat at the table in his kitchen on Tuesday morning, reading the letter that had magically appeared in his mail. He grinned at Corey’s short note, all giddy the younger man hadn’t declared him crazy for sending a handwritten love letter.

Today, his lover would find a book with pancake recipes leaning at his computer.

Next to Remy sat a potted Chrysanthemum, and he’d already placed paper and pen beside it to write the letter Corey would receive on Wednesday. He got to work after wolfing down his breakfast.

My dear Corey,

Chrysanthemum stands for
My heart is free.
It’s free for you, Corey, and I’ll wait for as long as it takes. In case you don’t believe me, remember this.

I’ve never tried for a relationship. You were right in your accusation that my love life consisted of meaningless one-night-stands. It was always easier to avoid romantic entanglements. That’s over. You changed that part of my life and now I can’t—and won’t—go back to how it was before I met you.

Corey, romance and love can get you hurt, badly. Just as you, I’m not fond of that feeling. I know people hurt you in the past. Maybe you’re afraid I’d hurt you as well. I’m sorry how vulnerable your experiences left you. You gave me, us, a glimpse of how it could be between us. I’m certain that having you in my life is worth the risk of getting hurt. For you, I’m ready to open my heart, hold nothing back, and give myself to you wholeheartedly. Do you think I’m worth the risk, too?

I picked a red Chrysanthemum because red is my favorite color. Something I never told you although it’s such a simple fact to share. It’s not the only easy information about me I held back though. Here are some more.

I like getting up early in the morning. Not because I’m a workaholic—which I am—but because of the sky. Have you ever just sat, maybe in your wonderful solarium, with a cup of tea, and watched the sky when the sun comes up? All those colors are stunning. The quiet is so overwhelming, like the earth is holding its breath for a short time before the chaos of the day starts once again till night finally descends. I love this time of the day because, just like the earth, I can breathe. I stop thinking about my job and all those petty little problems that, in the end, mean nothing.

Another fact. I like sitting in the mall although I hate shopping with a passion. Instead, I enjoy watching people. While sitting there, I see them interact, see happy couples and arguing couples. Watching them makes me wonder what it’d be like to have someone to be happy with. Even to argue with.

Since we met, I couldn’t stop thinking about going to the mall with you. Not to watch, but to walk around, chat and bicker. I’d tell you I want to buy a shirt and you’d argue the color is ugly. It’s those trifles I always missed. Maybe, someday, we’ll get the chance to explore them. Together.

Another tidbit about me I never shared. When I was in high school, I had to present a paper in front of the whole class. I was so horribly nervous I puked three times that day.

This weakness never left me, not even when I started law school. The first time I had to go to court—not as a bystander, but to represent a client—I puked at home before having breakfast. Then I lost said breakfast in the court toilet. My hands were shaking and I was sweaty as hell. Later, standing in front of the judge, I fought hard not to pass out. Over the years it’s gotten better, but it still happens now and then.

You’re the first person I’ve ever told that. I consider it a weakness and I hate feeling weak or not in control. Being in a relationship—I hope we’ll have one eventually—and sharing feelings with your partner, is not weak. I understand that now. Sharing and confessing your own flaws and shortcomings is not a weakness. It takes strength to trust another person with your secrets. It also means you’ll have somebody to lean on. Somebody you can confide in, no matter what. Somebody who will always have your back.

My wish is, to someday be that someone for you. And for you to be that someone for me. I’m ready to share everything. Everything but my heart, of course, because that belongs to you. Only you.

With deep affection,

Remington

Remy closed the letter, folded it and put it in its envelope. He had a helping hand at Harding Constructions who’d take care of placing the plant and the letter on Corey’s desk before he came to work tomorrow morning. All set in the romance department, Remy cleared the table, then got ready for the office.

On Thursday, Remy laughed when he opened the little package he’d found on the desk in his office. Inside were a red silk cravat and a short note. He’d just returned from a lunch date with a client, and the package hadn’t been there when he’d left. Seemed Corey was as sneaky as he was when it came to smuggling presents into other people’s offices. He suspected his secretary, Paula, of being Corey’s secret ally. The woman had looked suspiciously smug when he’d gone out to lunch.

Remy unfolded the note and read.

Dear boyfriend,

Yesterday’s letter touched me deeply. With only a few sheets of paper, you revealed more about yourself than during five weeks of dating. I realize now how serious you are about us, that you want to fight for us. For me. Nobody has ever done that, and I can’t wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

Your letter made me understand that you didn’t avoid discussing our future because you don’t want one, but because you didn’t know how to express your feelings and wishes properly. I’m glad you decided on such a romantic tactic.

I added a little something in your favorite color to battle the stage fright. I picked the cravat because it’s a neat, unobtrusive form for a lucky charm. And you can think of me while you’re wearing it. Thank you for sharing that embarrassing detail about yourself. As a something for something, know this.

When I was sixteen, I thought about dressing as a ballet dancer on Halloween. A female dancer with a little tutu. Weird chiffon phase and all. So, I stood in my room, trying to squeeze my twinkish body into the white and rose outfit, when I heard the door handle.

It was my dad. Instead of having a heart attack though, he asked me to wait a second and vanished. I waited, sweating like crazy, and thought he’d go and come back with mom so they could scold me for wearing women’s clothes. They already knew I was gay, but I thought that was maybe a bit too much for them to accept, although it was only a costume.

Imagine my surprise when he came back with a camera. My dad snapped some pictures, then said in a calm voice that he’d use them against me if I didn’t get a move on and clean my room, like I’d promised my mom. Then he laughed and said it was a nice costume. I felt relieved and at the same time beyond humiliated!

Now you know something embarrassing about me.

Still snickering,

Corey

“Oh God, you’re so cute, lover.” Remy shook his head. Corey’s term of address made his belly all warm and fuzzy.
Boyfriend
sounded promising and way better than ex-lover. He briefly wondered if Corey still had pictures of him in that costume, because he sure would like to see them.

On Friday, it rained like God was planning another flood. Corey didn’t care though. He was wet as hell because a car had splashed him while driving through a huge puddle. Plus, his umbrella had lost the fight against the storm. It couldn’t bring him down because he was floating on a cloud of happiness. He even dodged Mandy’s snippy comments about Remy’s absence while he hurried toward his office. The bitch was getting bitchier every day. Corey assumed a direct connection to his own lifting mood.