Let Me Count The Ways Read Free

on as a client, my life had become a surreal, slightly pathetic routine of counting. Every morning when I got up I automatically counted the days until I’d see her again. When every other Thursday rolled around, I counted the hours, and then the minutes. Finally, I counted the blocks I had to drive to get to her studio, the stairs I had to climb to reach her office.
    And then there were most of my evenings. Nights when I could find no better way to occupy my time than to spend them conversing with her shadow in my mind. Or replaying our actual conversations. Remembering in detail each word, each look, each nuance. Weaving her every gesture into the fantasies I’d already spent years honing.
    Well, what did you expect? I said it was pathetic, didn’t I?
    But I couldn’t help it. I reveled in the knowledge that when she spoke my name, when she turned her head and saw me and smiled in greeting--her eyes shining, her whole face lighting up--that it was really me she was talking to and smiling at.
    She hadn’t been smiling when I arrived today, however. Her face, reflected in the glass, looked sad, vulnerable. I was pretty sure I knew why. It was him. Derek. Her former lover. The... kid... she’d recently broken up with. Or who’d broken up with her, if my suspicions were correct.
    Which is not to say she didn’t put on a great act, just like always, but I’d seen the way she looked at him--the way she was looking at him today through the windows in her office. I know what it’s like to watch and want and worship from afar; to long for something you can never have. He’d moved on--that’s how I read it--and Claire was putting the best face on it that she could. But it was all for show When she thought no one was looking, when she was alone, unobserved, that’s when she let down her guard. That’s when her real feelings shone though.
    I would have liked to have said something more to comfort her, but what could I have said? Should I have told her it was all for the best? That she should have known better? He was too young for her. She was too good for him. It was doomed from the start. All true, but hardly likely to make her feel any better.
    I could have told her that a woman like her shouldn’t have to waste her time playing with boys. Not when there was a man around who could understand what she wants, what she needs...
    But, no, what was I thinking? A woman like Claire? Impossible. Such a creature doesn’t exist. There’s no one like Claire. She’s an original. She’s in a class all her own.
    “Are you doing anything later this evening?” Claire’s voice broke into my reverie.
    Startled, and pretty certain I was hearing things, I glanced at her. “I’m sorry... what did you say?”
    “I was wondering if you were busy tonight?” she said and then shook her head and smiled. “Sorry. I guess I’m thinking aloud again. It’s just that a friend of mine has a new gallery. They’re having an opening party tonight. She’s sent me a bunch of invitations and I was wondering if you would be interested in attending?”
    “A gallery opening? Tonight? Will you be there?”
    Claire nodded. “I try to attend as many of these things as I can. This seems like a nice one... cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, live music. But, it’s short notice. You probably have other plans...”
    “No, actually, I don’t.” The only thing I had going tonight was the start of a new countdown. Fourteen long days until the next time I’d see her. Or thirteen days, twenty-one hours and change, if you want to be exact. But so what? It would feel like a long time, that much I knew. Why would I not want to shave even a few hours off that total? “I’d love to go.”

    Chapter Two

    Claire

    The gallery was crowded. The music was loud and not to my liking. And although some of the art on display was interesting enough, let’s face it; I wasn’t in the market for any more investments. I’d sunk almost everything I had into The Body