Baby, it's cold outside! - 3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I barely avoid stumbling over a loose flagstone, when the hotel finally comes into sight. My neck and shoulders are killing me, and a stabbing pain throbs behind my left eye. The symposium was a huge success, even though the lengthy discussion following the presentation had been a pain in the ass. How people always manage to ask the same few questions, in slightly different words, is beyond me. The mingling with the investors and fellow scientists almost did me in. I'm horrible at small talk. I simply can't think of enough little jokes, harmless banter, apolitical, non-religious, or otherwise innocuous topics, which inevitably leads to them asking about my family situation.

"No, I don't have a wife. No, a girlfriend neither."

"Aww, always working and no play? Ha-ha.”

“Um....”

“A successful career is important. So is a family.”

“Um....”

“Besides, my daughter will be at the dinner party tonight…."

Okay I’m exaggerating, but honestly? Are these people for real? I can't believe this is still happening.

Of course, some of the guests had seen the newspaper article and the picture of little Tristan and me. Apparently, it was all over social media too. I blame Kara and Andreas.

Aww, that was sooo cute! I so should have a little guy of my own someday.

Everybody can see what a good father I'd be.

Kara’s mumbled interjection, my future husband slash life partner and I would definitely be great parents, got me the typical three reactions. Some of them were like two dads, cool, the more the merrier; some were like 'ew', and a few of them had this slightly missionary glitter in their eyes, like maybe I could be cured, if I’d meet the right girl. Whatever, all this is probably in my head.

Fortunately, my sexuality has never been an issue with the professor. He told me as long as I don't start every sentence with ‘I'm gay’, or suddenly start wearing purple frilled shirts in the lab, only to get my point across, he wouldn’t have a problem. Of course, if I did fancy those kinds of shirts, he was sure he would get accustomed to it as long as I respected lab safety rules. I think this was his not so subtle way of letting me know he doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as I do my work.

All in all, the after-party was OKAY. I survived, the investors are happy and the professor is too, because our finances are secure for the next two years. Yay, me!

I'm walking behind the professor through the revolving door into the too-bright hotel lobby. It's two in the morning, and all I have on my mind now is getting out of my suit, into the shower, sleeping till lunch, and then catching the train home at 4:20 pm.

That is until I see an all-too-familiar figure, sleeping on one of the leather couches, black coat open, revealing a worn blue scarf hanging loosely around his neck. ‘Is that the one I gave him for Christmas?’ His light, curly black hair is falling down to his shoulders. Peter! What the fuck is he doing here? This can't be a coincidence, can it? I have to get away from here before he wakes up!

"Mr. Alexander! This gentleman, Mr. Shaw, has been waiting for you for a while. I already told him it would be late, as you were at a dinner party tonight, but he insisted on waiting for you," the hotel porter rushes over.

I cringe; can't the guy be a little bit more discreet? He’ll wake him up, if he doesn't tone it down. Shit, shit, shit! And of course, Peter's already stirring in his sleep. My heart beats too fast! I feel dizzy. Great, just great. It will only take one or two seconds until I have to look in those bright, blue eyes again, which still haunt me in my dreams. Instinctively, I turn in the direction of the elevators, when I feel a hand clamp down on my right shoulder. My boss is actually keeping me from bolting. He looks straight into my eyes.

"Is that him? Peter? Your Peter?"

"Yeah… he isn't mine though… never really was, obviously…." I murmur.

"And what are you planning to do now, Tristan? Run away?”

Maybe?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough distance by now? Confront him, maybe listen to his explanation, apology, or whatever he wants to tell you. Five years ago, walking away might have been the right decision, now the right thing to do is talk. Tristan, are you happy?"

"No, I'm not," I whisper.

He turns me in Peter's direction, and when I still don't move, he gives me a slight push. "Go already."

This happens when your boss has become a good friend too. I slowly walk over to the couch opposite of the one Peter is currently sleeping on and sit down. And then I see the newspaper beside him. He found my picture in that damned newspaper article. He saw me with that ridiculous Santa hat on my head, holding little Tristan.

His hair is longer. It falls into his eyes and almost onto his shoulders. I wonder what his perfectly-groomed boss says about this. While I keep looking at him, I'm suddenly confronted with cornflower-colored eyes, still slightly glazed over from sleep.

"Tristan."

"Peter."

"You're home."

"I don’t live here anymore, as you well know. I'm only here for a symposium. I'll go home tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh…yes, of course. Sorry."

"Hm…the porter said you’re waiting for me? Why is that?"

"Yes. It's…I saw your picture in the newspaper. I…needed to speak to you for so long. I…want to explain, need to explain…what…why I made all those mistakes. Please, Tristan can I explain it to you?"

"Why? I mean it's been almost six years. You're married; we both moved on with our lives. What sense would it make to talk about the past?"

"You moved on?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I can’t help the irritation seeping into my question.

"Yes, yes…of course…why wouldn't you."

While watching him rest his elbows on his knees, I cannot fail to notice those single white hairs in his otherwise black strands, or the fine lines around his eyes. However, he doesn't look like a man who laughs often or whose life is going as planned. He seems to be...sad. Well, why should I care? It's probably just the holiday stress.

"Tristan…."

I look up. "Can we talk? Please?" he pleads.

I don’t want to. And then, "All right,” slips out. What the hell? Before he can answer, I quickly add, “But not now. I'm tired, I need a shower, and I need to think."

He leaned forward eagerly. "Of course. Maybe tomorrow at ten?"

And then I want to burst his happy bubble. "Nah, I'll probably still be sleeping then." It’s a blatant lie. I would be surprised if I’d get any sleep tonight. "We can meet after lunch at two, here at the hotel. I have to catch my train at 4:20, but I guess it won't take all that long anyway, right?"

"All right, at two here in the lobby. Thank you for hearing me out, Tristan."

"Yeah, yeah," I wave my hand dismissively and stand up to head for the elevators without saying another word. I know he's looking after me. I behaved like an ass. I thought I would feel better. I do not.

I impatiently wait for the elevator. Before stepping into the cabin, I can’t resist the urge to look back. He’s already gone.

***

I should have skipped lunch; my stomach is in knots. When I come back, Peter is already waiting for me, sitting on the same couch as last night. He hasn't detected me yet. I could slip away and avoid this conversation, wait in my room until it's time to go to the train station and never see him again. Suddenly I want to know the excuses for his betrayal. Their absurdity will help me close this part of my life once and for all.

He glances up and gives a small nod. Well, there goes the chance to take the coward’s way out. I walk over to him.

"Tristan, you came." He quickly gets up. Apparently, he’d considered I might not show. I’m glad I stayed.

"Yeah, of course. I said I'd come, so I came." Ha! Liar!

"Um…are we going to talk here?" Peter looks uncomfortably around the crowded foyer.

"I’d rather not. We could go up to my room?"

"Yes, I think that's a good idea." He smiles, relieved.

I lead the way to the elevator. We wait in silence, and I feel the desperate need for a coffee.

"Do you want something to drink? A coffee maybe?"

"Yeah, that would be great."

“Perfect.” I give him my key card. There's no personal stuff left in my room, as I already packed my suitcase. He can wait there for me while I get us some coffee.

"Are you sure I should wait in your room? I could just stay in the foyer or come with you to the coffee shop."

"Nah, that's okay. Just leave the door open; I won't take long. There is a coffee shop right around the corner."

"Oh…all right then."

He enters the elevator while I turn to get us coffee, glad for the reprieve.

I'm busy tomorrow, so I thought I could post the next chapter one day early.
Thank you for reading! As always, reactions and comments are very welcome.
 @Valkyrie for all your help.