At First Sight

Tears and Fears

"Champagne guy?!" Meredith squealed with delight. "He was gorgeous!" her face scrunched in places as if she had just eaten the most divine of chocolates. Sara's body racked with giggles as she tried to hide her laughter in her mug. They were at the restaurant again, the same time every day for lunch. Sara hadn't seen Michael for a few days but they more then made up for it over the phone.

"Yeah well, now you know," Sara confessed to her friend mockingly. Meredith's whole body buzzed at her friend's revelation and she grinned goofily at Sara. Sara blushed and just hid her face in a magazine she had pulled from her bag to read. Meredith let out a loud schoolgirl cackle as Sara tried to hide.

"In the rain and everything!" Meredith pressed on, fanning her cheeks with fake meaning. "That's hot," she told Sara with a last smile and a wink. Sara dropped the magazine from her face and a familiar tingle entered her body, her cheeks flushing with red for another reason other than her friends embarrassing onslaught. Behind her friend, directly in her line of sight Michael entered the restaurant, his eyes warm and his lips inviting as they curled into a smile.

"Was he good?" Meredith coaxed, her eyes widening with anticipation of Sara's answer. Sara blushed again, her cheeks turning to fire as Michael began to approach. She coughed aloud, a false deterrent to her friend who turned to inspect to person casting a shadow over their table. Meredith just burst into another fit of giggles as she turned back to Sara.

Michael smirked at them before realising it was best not to ask. "Ladies," he greeted them, his voice rolling from his mouth in a heavenly rapture.

"Michael," Sara said in a similar tone, her eyes shying from his as she smirked herself.

"Michael," Meredith repeated after her friend. She picked up her glass of water and drank quickly, feeling very lost in their unspoken connection. "I just need to go to the little doctor's room," she grinned at Sara as she slid off her chair and darted to the back of the restaurant.

Michael dived into her welcoming seat and folded his hands together on the table before him. Sara tucked some spare hair behind her ears and she looked back into his blue grey orbs.

"Hi," he started nervously but playfully, flashing her a quick grin and running his eyes over her body. She sat before him in casual skin-tight jeans, a black v-necked chenille sweater covering three quarters of her finely haired arms over a baby pink blouse.

She smiled her hello, flicking another tendril of hair from her eyes with a headshake. "How are you?" she leant forward onto the fresh white tablecloth, her hands millimetres from is own. Their heat radiated in the small gap like the steam from a hot water spring.

"I'm good," he inhaled. " And you?" he raised his eyebrows at her, his eyes growing larger on his perfect face. He fidgeted under her stare and Sara's face grew worried.

"Are you?" she ignored his question and searched his face for an answer to hers. Her brow pulled together and her tenuous eyebrows met unexpectedly. Michael reached out and took her hands in his, fumbling with them in between his large paws. "Michael?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly with fear of the unknown.

"I have to go away," he confessed suddenly. Sara looked horrified when his face finally met hers again. "For work," he tried to recover some sort of grip on the conversation. His insides felt like they were tearing apart, his heart at the centre of the carnage. Without realising it Sara's hands gripped his harder as her stomach fell away with dread.

"For how long?" her voice cracked with sadness. She hadn't seen Michael for a few days because of his work and now it was ripping him from her life for god only knows how long. He took a hand from their collection on the table and pulled it across his brow roughly. Sara noted his attire had been crumpled, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his tie had been wrenched awkwardly sideways. He had been thinking of how to tell her all day. "For how long?" she repeated a little louder, sounding angry.

Michael pressed his eyes closed as he answered her. "A month." His head fell forward and his shoulders hunched like he was trying to hide himself from her stare. Sara was petrified. Anything could happen in a month. Michael might meet someone else or he could become so engrossed in his work he would never want to see her again.

"A month?" she laughed, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "When?" she didn't want to know. Michael glanced behind his shoulder, a large black chauffer driven Bentley parked on the curb, its engine purring like an urban tiger.

"Now," he said full of remorse for hurting her so. She wrenched her hands from his and pushed them roughly into her hair, pulling it back off her face and holding it there, her entire being trying to contemplate life without him for a short time that felt like forever. Michael's face, racked with sorrow, softened at her sight and he titled his head before standing and pulling her up into his arms.

"Oh Sara," he whispered as she began to sob against his chest. "I'll be back," he pulled back from her and cupped her face in his giant hands. His thumbs brushed her cheeks tenderly, wiping her salty tears away and melting her heart. She gripped his hands and pushed into them, needing to feel his touch for a long as possible. He angled her head towards his eyes and their burning gazes locked. "I promise," he told her.

Sara reached up and grabbed his face, pulling it to her own for a long, wilful kiss. Her lips quivered and Michael tasted her tears in his mouth. He consumed her mouth with his; wanting to kiss away all of her fears with his lavish lips.

For a moment they weren't in the restaurant and nine pairs of eyes were not staring at them with mourning. For a moment they were anywhere but there and they were in any circumstance but this. For a moment Sara had Michael in her arms and he had her in his, both grappling for each other's yearning. For a moment they were on their first date, fine wines and luxurious food filling them hungrily before they filled each other. For a moment, they were one.

Michael sniffed as he pulled away from her, shielding his own tears by looking away and out of the large glass walls of the restaurant. His driver stood obediently outside of his car, tapping his toes and checking his watch. "I have to go," he rested his forehead to hers. She clung to the back of his neck and gave a small nod. Their lips met one more time before he turned and was gone.

Sara hurriedly wiped her own face with her hands and collapsed back into her chair. Her eyes welled up again when she saw the black cat prowl off into the traffic, its black tinted windows forbidding her one last glimpse of the man she loved.

Michael slammed his head into the back of the leather interior as the car pulled away, his clenched fists punching the seat on either side of his lap. He rolled his head to the side and his breath caught in his throat as a tear rolled down his cheek.