Mirrors

June 11th, Tuesday

After a day of quality time together, Hudson and I had come home in the evening. After coming up the grand staircase in the foyer, we were fooling around in the hall. We kept teasing each other and pushing the other in through the open doors along the hall. I laughed and wrapped my arms around his body as we walked on and I grinned happily, "I'm so glad you finally got a day off."

He smiled back thoughtfully, "I'm glad too."

"You know what we should do?" I smiled impishly.

"Hm?"

"Go out to the swimming pool, close the curtains, lock the door and have a little fun." I arched an eyebrow, gently stroking my fingers along his side. He inhaled slowly and held his breath for a moment, "Um...I'm not really in the mood to go for a swim though."

"Well we could to the room." I stopped in front of him. "It's been a long time since I could spend some alone time with my husband."

Again he hesitated and shrugged a shoulder. "Uh..."

"Why are you hesitating?" I laughed, "This isn't like you. I thought you had a voracious appetite for sex?"

He quickly shushed me and covered my mouth, "Shh. I don't know."

"If you think you're gonna hurt the baby, you're not. It's the size of a peach. And it's protected by an amniotic sac. It's completely safe, he'll have no idea what's going on. We're good."

He made a face, "Yeah, 'cause that's a big turn on right now."

"But I'm not even showing yet."

He paused but I knew he was going to turn me down again. I refrained from making a face and just nodded, "Okay, we don't have to do it." I took his hand and we continued down the hall.

"No, let's do it." He chuckled and pulled me back, I turned to him and shook my head, "No, you don't want to, so we won't."

"Yes I do! C'mon, I want you right here, right now." He smirked. I narrowed my eyes at him and smirked, "No. The sites I've been on have all said that some men are comfortable with it, and some aren't. You're not and that's okay."

He paused before sighing quietly, "I'm just not...in the mood for it right now. It's not you, it's me."

I rolled my eyes and started to laugh, he joined me. "Oh great, you're giving me the 'it's not you, it's me', line. That's exactly what I want to hear."

He laughed, "I'm sorry-"

We were interrupted by one of the help approaching me with an envelope. "A letter for Mrs. Hudson."

I took it and saw that it was from National Geographic and my breath hitched. I've waited so long for them to get back to me after I sent them my application and portfolio just over a month ago. This was it, I've been waiting so long for this moment. My heart raced as I glanced up at Hudson who also stared at the letter eagerly.

"They've written back." I spoke in a whisper.

"Well open it." He smiled excitedly.

I paused and then proceeded to carefully tear it open. In a natural way the letter unfolded and I began to read silently:

Dear Applicant, Avery Hudson,

We thank you for your patience in this time and appreciate your interest in National Geographic © and the position of an editor for which you have applied. The portfolio of your work that was submitted was impressive, but with the absence of provided references, we will have to politely decline at this time. Your writing is professional and you practice excellent grammar and punctuation but we are afraid that with the style of writing in which you possess, it will not fit with the rest of the editorials. In the application it was also stated that two reference letters were required.

You are welcome to reapply in the future given that you continue to practice grammar and punctuation, where in turn your writing style will develop.

We wish you success in...

I closed my eyes and stepped back, thumping against the back of the wall. I didn't need to read anymore, I've read enough. My heart had slowed drastically from its racing speed.

"What did they say?" He asked. As if the look of distress on my face didn't give it away, I covered my face and struggled to keep the tears at bay. A small group of servants along with Mrs. Davies had stood in the stairway around the corner listening, they were as eager as Hudson and I, but quickly whispers started up.

I crumpled the letter in my hand and my throat burned, "This was all I had ever wanted. This was my life."

Tearing the letter up, I threw the pieces away and quickly a maid had come and picked up the pieces. Hudson had wrapped his arms around me in an attempt to console me, "Avery, I'm sorry this happened." He grunted.

"I wasn't expecting this." I began to cry and my eyes burned. Burying my face into his chest I cried and asked Mrs. Davies to bring a pot of chai tea to our room, he started to carefully lead me down the hall.

We laid together on the bed and held me close, stroking my hair as I wept. Clutching his at his shirt, I could feel that hopeless feeling again, the same feelings I confessed to Amelia at The Little Owl in New York.

My whole life, ever since I was a kid, I had dreamed of working for National Geographic. At night, I would read the articles and gaze in earnest hope at the photos, dreaming that someday my work would be published.

Everything leading up to where I am now, was in pursuit of becoming a part of that magazine. Everything I wrote and created was for my future.

It was in times like this that I thought about Christian and the feeling of longing for him intensified to the point where I thought my heart would burst. I closed my eyes tightly in an effort to stop the tears. "I wish I didn't miss you so damn much."

In Blair's Life

"Christian, it's great to hear from you. I was thinking of calling you the other day. But that was three weeks ago, I think." I spoke coolly over the phone as I glided a pencil along some sketching paper, doing one last design before Paris Fashion Week next week.

"So, how's things?" He asked.

"Good. This week has just been a bit of a crunch, I'm in the final stages of preparation for my clothing line. This season I'm introducing women's clothing to Comeau Blair."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot that you design clothes too. That sounds great."

"I like it. Gives me something to do. But how are you? Are you still in New York?" I silently cursed as I made one line too dark, I grabbed an eraser.

"No, after I left my job here and I decided to move back to Cali."

"Where do, or I guess where did you work?"

"Rolling Stone Magazine in New York."

"Oh yeah, before you used to work at the headquarters in San Francisco. Why'd you leave your job in New York?"

"Just personal reasons I guess. I didn't like the environment."

"Hm. What are you doing now?"

"Just taking a break now I guess. I was thinking of coming to London for a visit."

I smiled, "Really? When? You could crash at my place, depending on when you come."

"I was thinking next week. It's Tuesday now, so maybe next Tuesday, or Wednesday." He sounded a little edgy.

"Next week might not work, I'll be in Paris for Fashion Week."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Hm...are you going alone?"

I shook my head and smiled when I finally got the sketch right. "I'm not sure yet, I have a friend I'd like to take with me, I'm just hoping her stiff of a husband will loosen his reins on her. I think she'd like to go too."

He cleared his throat, "Yeah? A special girl?" He laughed lightly and I shook my head, giving an annoyed smirk.

"She's a friend of mine. A muse of sorts. If she does indeed agree to join me, I was hoping for my show she's make a playlist for me. She has an impeccable taste in music. She has impeccable taste in everything actually. Except for men."

He laughed, "Who's her husband?"

"Holbrook Hudson. A local celebrity chef. I think he's aspiring to be the next Jamie Oliver, he's got great talent but a shitty personality." I rolled my eyes as I got up, taking the sketch with me. I went across the room to where my materials were and began pulling swatches to see what would go best.

"I've heard of him, and who's his wife? She's the one you want to take to Paris?" He asked, sounding more casual now.

"Avery Hudson. She's a writer, writes for Interview magazine. She's always wanted to go to Paris and since Holbrook won't take her, I will. I think she needs to get out of the house for a while too."

"That sounds really nice." He gave a laugh, "Well...well what if I meet you in Paris? I wouldn't mind taking in a show or two."

I nodded at the suggestion, "Yeah that could work. Yeah, actually it's a good idea. I'll be in Paris on Wednesday and fashion week starts Thursday, so we could meet up then."

"Great, maybe you could introduce me to your friend too." He cleared his throat and I made a face, smirking. I took compared a few swatches before replying to his suggestion. "I did mention she was married, so if you're fishing for a hook up, you're out of luck."

"I'm not." He laughed sheepishly, "I just wanna see her."

Finally I picked up on what was going on, "I take it you know her." He was quick to defend himself, "What? No, I don't...I said I wanna meet her, that's all."

"Damn me and my perceptiveness. You know her, don't lie to me. Now why are you so earnest, or impatient, to see her?"

For a moment there he was awfully quiet, but it gave me a few minutes to select colours I thought were best. I smiled at the thought I had.

"I knew her when we were in New York. We worked together...things ended on a...rather bad note. I need to see her again."

I turned and leaned against the old rustic plank table that was used to keep my materials on and I listened intently, but I clenched my jaw and stared across the room that was lit by a few bulbs that hung from the ceiling. "You need to see her. Christian, I don't quite understand what you mean when you say things ended on a bad note, but I can assure you if you plan on coming here to start trouble, in any way. I will keep her from you."

"No, never. Blair, I would never hurt her or do anything stupid. My intention is to see her, apologize for the way things ended...To tell her I love her."

I blinked and inhaled sharply. "Love?"

"Yes. It's a hard thing to explain over the phone, our past. But I promise you that with every ounce of my being, I want to make it up to her." He spoke in a pleading and almost pathetic tone.

"Are you sure she wants to see you?"

"I doubt she'll ever want to see me again. But I need to do this. Blair, you can't tell her I'm coming to Paris."

"Well that's if she agrees to go."

"But still. You can't tell her." He spoke very carefully.

I held my breath and had to take some time to think about it. Eventually I gave in, which wasn't like me at all, but since he was a longtime friend of mine, I decided to turn a new leaf. "I won't tell her." I sighed, "But if she freaks out, you have to leave. The last thing I want is for her to be under more stress. Of all the people I know who hate me, I wouldn't want her to."

He spoke in a relieved tone, "Thank you. Thank you. But stress, what stress? Is she alright?"

I arched a brow, "I can't tell you anything. It would betray her trust."

He laughed lightly, "Since when have you become such a thoughtful guy? If I remember correctly, you're the impassive, apathetic type."

I smiled, "It's her I suppose. She's changed me."

"She does that." I could tell he was smiling.