2 Chocolate soothes anything

The walk back was difficult for Frances, and she was more than grateful for Tristan’s assistance. Usually, she would have covered it in five minutes, holding the fifteen pounds of William in a hand, and her bag in the other. She was no stranger to physical effort, and her muscles were coiled and efficient, her gait light as she trod along the paths of life. But the swell of her ankle had got worse and it hurt like hell. As they climbed the steps to exit the beach, Tristan removed her bag from her own hands, hoisting little Willy on his shoulders, and offered his arm for her to lean on. The guy was a serious multitasker, as well as a sturdy mule, aside from being built like a Greek God, that is. The intensity of his gaze only added to his charm. Even covered in sweat and rolled up in the sand, the guy definitely had everything. For the moment, though, she was only happy he had offered his help. His solid frame and gentleness were so very welcome.

Calling the medics might have dented her already plummeting finances badly, and she didn’t want to have to deal with international paperwork. Yuck! Frances wondered how Tristan’s wife, or girlfriend, might react if she witnessed him with another woman at his arm and a child on his shoulders. She hoped they might be lenient enough to let her live. Not that she couldn’t defend herself. Even impaired, Frances’ training at Interpol assured her to be victorious against normal people. She had no qualms over crashing someone’s nose into its skull if needed. One of the reasons why she had accepted the help of Tristan in the first place. Should the man try anything, he’d be unconscious and handcuffed in less time than it took to sneeze. But somehow, she doubted that. His offer seemed genuine, his manners nothing but open.

Conversation flowed easily as they trod through the streets, and she learnt that his peculiar accent came from Denmark. And also that he was an actor, which made sense because most US TV series were shot in Vancouver studios. She told him of her last job in France, at Interpol, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t pry about the reasons she had quit altogether. This gruesome story was best left unsaid to strangers.

— "So you are on vacation presently?" he gently prodded.

— "Yeah. My family gave me a sum of money, and told me to get somewhere to chill for a while."

He seemed genuinely surprised.

— "And of all the places of the world, you chose here?"

Frances laughed. Yes, it should have been a weird choice for sure, not to go to the Caribbean, or the Seychelles, or Italy, or wherever. But she always wanted to visit Canada, and she had housed her older brother as he finished his latest mission.

— "My brother was there the last two weeks. He just flew back to Mexico to his wife."

— "But you stayed?"

His voice was smooth, like a caress. The accent only emphasised its soothing tones and she couldn’t help leaning a little into him just to hear the rumble of his chest. Damn, the man was magnetic up close, she needed to get a grip. Unfortunately, the pain shooting up her leg didn’t help. And her little boy, perched upon his shoulders, seemed to have taken a liking to his hair which he tussled with his sand filled hands. Frances sighed, renouncing to stop Will lest he threw a fit, and decided she would throw the man into the shower instead.

— "I don’t know why, but things feel … relaxed here. It’s like being on another continent, without living in the craziness of the US."

— "I can relate to that. In Denmark, things are simple. More quiet than in the US. I can find some of the spirit here as well"

Will choose this moment to pull on a lock his long brownish hair. A slight wince and his mother immediately scolded the kid.

— "Be gentle, William"

Tristan’s other hand came to rest on the kid’s back.

— "Ah don’t worry. I got plenty of hair still."

Frances gave him a lopsided smile.

— "You’re too nice. He’ll have you wrapped around his little finger before you know it."

— "I’m afraid this battle is already lost."

It was heartwarming, to see such gentleness from a stranger. Frances knew William had a bonus with most people. The child was just too charming for his own good, not unlike the cat in the Shrek movies. One smile, one pleading look, and everybody would fall at his feet. The worst was that William knew his power over others, like a Jedi who just had to wave its hand. The best way to go was to ignore him for now. And truth be told, Tristan’s face called some memories; she wondered in which movie she’d seen him. Frances wasn’t a great cinephile, she tended to forget actors’ names as soon as her head hit the pillow, concentrating on the characters they played instead. It would have been so very rude to ask him that she tried a circumvoluted question.

— "I guess you probably have some wild moments at premières and ceremonies."

Rather than giving more information on the last even he’d attended, Tristan barely grunted. He didn’t seem like the type to enjoy the attention.

— "Yes. There’s only so much hassle a man can handle."

Frances laughed as he chuckled.

— "I also enjoy the quiet, but Willy scarcely agrees with me. It’s crazy how that kid enjoys noise. Right sweetie?"

— "Mama" he answered from his perch, blue eyes twinkling.

At last, they made it to the apartment complex that housed her for the time being.

— "So where to?" asked Tristan as he took in the inner courtyard that led to several doors.

It was a very innocent question, but Frances was, for once, compelled to speak the truth. The man was a good listener, a stranger that would disappear from her life the minute after next. A nice encounter that would leave a little trail of trust in the world.

— "For now, entrance 1B, over there. As for my life, I am here to reflect on what comes next."

Her comment was unanswered, and very soon, it was all a matter of not leaving sand on the carpeted floors, and trying to fit everybody’s feet into the bathtub while William danced in the two inches of water that gathered at the bottom. It was a pretty apocalypse, one that made Tristan laugh and Frances pull her hair out. But there was some merriment in her gaze as she watched them interact. It sent a tug to her heart. She knew William needed a male presence in his life, he missed it. The toddler always went searching for men in a crowd, looking for a father who had fled to Africa in a humanitarian mission the moment he had learnt of her pregnancy. Frances wasn’t angry anymore, but she had trust issues.

How could she let a man crash into her life, knowing there was a possibility that he could leave afterwards? There could only be a trail of destruction left behind, the shards of her hearts only minor compared to the abandonment of her son. Yet, as she rested her ankle on a stool, watching Tristan as he offered to wash and dress William under her instructions, her heart swelled. It was just too cute to be true. The strange sensation to be watching a window in the future hit her, and she stirred from her perch.

— "Well, Sir Tristan. You are a life saviour, the true embodiment of a knight. And to thank you, I hope you will agree to partake in the chocolate cake that we made this morning."

The man adjusted William’s pyjama cuffs before he addressed her a gentle smile.

— "My fair lady, I accept your offer happily. There is nothing like chocolate after a good run."

— "I’ll make some tea. If you wish to shower, now that you are truly soaked, feel free to use the bathroom."

Tristan considered the idea, his gaze stuck into William’s wide blue eyes. There was a plea in the child’s gaze, some sort of unspoken question. Where was the child’s father? The idea of a nice hot shower appealed to him, but here was nothing more than a sweatshirt in his bag.

— "I would have accepted but I have nothing to change into."

— "Well, that’s too bad. I got nothing to offer that could possibly fit you. And for once, my brother left nothing behind, a miracle."

He smiled good-naturedly at the jab, his chest suddenly unburdened by the knowledge that she had no men’s clothes around. 'Stop it,' screamed his mind. 'A little respect for the lady.'

— "I’ll just refresh and join you. Home-made cake sounds nice."

— "Sure. Come, Willy, let us give space to the gentleman for a grooming."

And the child reached for her hand as she limped out of the bathroom, leaving him in an unfamiliar setting with tons of sand buried in his hair.