by Shayne Ford
LOVING ED
A Night Of The Kings Novel
Shayne Ford
Copyright © 2019 by Shayne Ford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, organizations and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and have been used without permission and in an editorial fashion only, with no implied endorsement.
The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with, approved of or sponsored by the trademarks owners.
This book is for entertainment purposes only. The author and publisher disclaim any and all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to this book.
This book is intended for mature audiences only.
Written by Shayne Ford
www.shayneford.com
Twitter:@ShayneFordBooks
Cover design by Shayne Ford
The image on the cover is a licensed stock photo, and it is used for illustrative purposes, any person who may be depicted on, is a model.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Also by Shayne Ford
About the Author
1
THEA
“What did I do?” he asks.
Elan looks at me–– his face white as paper, his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows lifted as questions flicker in his eyes.
Slowly, he leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes trained on me.
“Nothing,” I murmur with a faint voice as if life has left my body.
“I called you a few times,” he says, pointing to my phone.
As if I need to see the damn proof.
“It’s not your fault, Elan,” I say, my voice stronger this time yet still not convincing enough.
Although I know, it’s not his fault. I’m fully responsible for this mess. Had I answered his calls–– any calls for that matter, I would’ve avoided this mess.
Sunk in my thoughts, I glance around, looking for things to keep my hands occupied.
Mechanically, I pick up Ed’s cup of coffee from the table and pivot to the sink to empty it and wash it, but then I change my mind and set it on the counter as if my silly gesture could bring him back somehow.
“You said that I could take your car to the shop for an oil change,” Elan says.
He sounds pissed, and he has every reason to be.
“And I did just that,” he continues. “I brought your car home and parked it in front of the building. I called you, but you didn’t answer, so I asked Liz what to do, and she suggested to use the apartment key and get in. She said that you were home, but you were probably asleep or had your phone turned off, or both,” he says increasingly agitated.
“You did the right thing, Elan. Stop fretting about it.”
My voice whips through the air, loaded with frustration, my anger directed at me more than him.
He did the right thing. And I didn’t. End of story.
“I’m sorry, Elan. I truly am,” I say with a different voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault. I should’ve called you and talked to you before you showed up at my door, but my mind was not there. I never thought that something bad could happen. It’s okay...” I add with a softer voice. “You don’t have to worry. Things will be fine,” I mutter, the thick concern in my voice suggesting otherwise.
I take a seat at the table, only because my knees don’t seem to be strong enough to support me while he picks an apple from the fruit basket, pulls out the second chair and sits across from me.
Slowly, he chews on the fruit, his eyes glued to the table as thoughts start beaming on his face.
“I should’ve known when I saw him here...” he says bitterly. “But I didn’t want to believe it.”
Slowly, he lifts his gaze, his eyes connecting with mine.
His bangs make him look young––so much younger than he is.
“You’ve been in love with him for some time,” he says.
“I don’t know if I could call it––”
“You were,” he says, cutting me off, not willing to debate. “Why couldn’t you say so?”
I shrug, my gaze trailing down.
“Because I didn’t, um... know?” I mutter, my eyes going up to him.
He huffs with frustration.
“How could you not know?”
His voice sounds accusatory, and by all means, he has every reason to accuse me of things.
“I probably didn’t want to call it that way.”
“Why?”
I look down, no longer willing to face his drilling gaze.
“Why couldn’t you call it for what it was?”
I raise my eyes.
“It’s complicated.”
“Why?”
I study his face for a few moments before I speak again.
“Have you ever been in love, Elan?”
Surprise colors his gaze, his eyebrows tilting.
“Me? No. Never.”
His answer comes rushed and nervous, confirming a suspicion that I’ve had for a some time.
“Why?” I ask.
“I didn’t find the right person.”
“How do you know if it’s the right person?”
“I know... “ he says assertively.
“How?”
“If I love her, she loves me back. That’s how I know.”
Our eyes stay locked.
“That’s it?” I ask intrigued.
“Pretty much.”
“What about, um...?”
“There’s nothing else.”
He seems frustrated.
I study his face for a few moments before he slides his gaze down, averting his eyes.
“Did you find someone to like that much?” I ask.
His lips purse, his brow knitted into a frown.
“Maybe.”
“And yet, she didn’t like you back?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Do I know her?”
He swings his gaze to me and weighs me for a few seconds, a wall growing in his eyes.
His response shoots promptly.
“No, you don’t,” he says, guarded and reserved.
Stubbornly, he holds my gaze, his bravery tipping me off.
“Do you like me that way...?” I ask softly.
A chuckle shatters his composure, wiping away his stern expression–– a poor attempt to hide his feelings.
“Sure... Of course, I like you. Why else would I be here?” he asks, half-jokingly, of course, but
I don’t buy it.
“Seriously, Elan.”
I don’t crack a smile.
His laugh dies out, his grin sliding off his lips as well.
“Is that really a question, Thea?”
He no longer looks at me, the corners of his eyes slanting down, speaking of deep sadness.
“I wasn’t... I’m sorry. I should’ve known,” I mutter, embarrassed.
His hand flicks up along with his eyes.
“Please don’t say that. It makes me feel even worse.”
“That’s not what I––”
His gaze slashes through me, making me zip it in a second.
I lean back in my chair, hoping that if I put more space between us things would feel a little better.
He drags his gaze down again, slowly shaking his head.
“It’s not as if I didn’t know that you were in love with someone else,” he mutters bitterly again.
“How could you possibly know? I didn’t even know,” I say, looking at him baffled.
His eyes come to me.
“Yes, you did,” he says, searing me with his eyes. “And I knew it from the beginning. But like a coward, I still wanted to be around you. The fact that I didn’t see that someone else pursuing you gave me hope, but it was more like wishful thinking on my part, and it had nothing to do with you being available. It didn’t help that I knew that you like me as well. That thing alone kept me tied to you these past weeks. But I never envisioned this...” he says, flicking his chin toward the door pointing to a man who is long gone. “Something told me that you were longing for a man, but deep inside, I thought that, even if that were the case, I could still compete with him.”
A sad smile creases his lips.
“But I can’t compete with Ed Preston.”
His words sadden me as I realize that his reality resembles mine in a sense. He can’t compete with Edward Preston, while I can’t find a way to be with Ed, so there’s not much of a difference between us.
We’re both screwed.
“Was he the man you took the pictures for?” he asks, referring to the day we met in the library for the first time and he caught me arching my back while trying to handle the selfie stick.
I hesitate for a moment, briefly tipping my gaze down.
“No,” I say.
“Yes, he was.”
Our eyes connect again.
“At the time, I didn’t know that it was him,” I say in my defense.
As if it matters.
A soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
“Lucky man.”
“He doesn’t want me, Elan.”
The words shoot out, heavy with frustration, carrying the ugly truth.
But even if it were the truth, why would I share it with Elan?
He laces his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table.
“He wants you more than you imagine,” he says.
My eyes widen, filled with surprise and disbelief.
“What are you talking about? He didn’t even want to talk to me.”
A soft smile narrows his eyes.
“If someone like him reacts so strongly to someone like me, he must be head over heels in love with you.”
His words breed hope in me, making me smile as well, but my joy is short-lived as I get flashbacks of these past few weeks and I remember how hard it was to reach a truce with Ed, and how hopeless were the days when I believed that I would never see him again, let alone touch him or be in bed with him.
Even if what Elan says is the truth, he doesn’t know Edward Preston the way I do. He doesn’t know how stubborn and strong he is, and how deep his feelings are. How easily he can be antagonistic to a woman.
He doesn’t know all that, but I do.
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I say. “We just, um... Well... We just got back together last night. I didn’t even think that it was possible. Anyway,” I say, gesturing while sliding out of my chair. “The thing is we haven’t had much of a chance from the beginning. He’s not an easy man to love.”
He stays quiet, pondering, while I pivot to the sink again and finally wash Ed’s cup.
He waits for me to finish up and come back at the table.
My gaze stays trained on him as I dry off my hands with a kitchen towel.
“No man or woman is easy to love,” he says as I sink into my chair again.
He’s talking about me, I imagine.
I study him for a few moments, and for the second time this morning, I realize that we are very much in the same boat.
We both want what we can’t have. And we both think that because we can’t have it, it’s a great loss and we miss out a lot, but that’s not how this stuff works.
I once had something that I thought was love. I got married to the man I had affection for. At that point, he probably felt the same way about me, but then he quickly changed his mind.
What if that’s all there is to it?
What if love is nothing more than an illusion?
A capricious mirror that every time you look at it reflects the image of the one you love depending on what you want or don’t want from that person.
Sometimes you like what you see, and sometimes you don’t, and it all depends on that particular moment and whether you feel like you’re in love with them or not.
I don’t think there’s anything more twisted, fragile, unpredictable and unreliable than love.
One moment you have it, the next you don’t. And anything can tip the scale. Good or bad.
Back to Ed...
Perhaps he wanted me more when he realized that I was no longer his, but once he felt me in his arms again, he had a certain expectation that I obviously failed to meet. And when someone like Elan popped in, he didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt, try to learn the truth or wait for an explanation.
He must’ve seen so clearly that Elan was nothing but a friend, not an obstacle for him. And once he touched me, he must’ve known as well that I was no one’s else but his all this time.
And yet, his hurt feelings and bruised ego trump my feelings and that’s what made him storm away.
Ugh.
Everything that once annoyed me at him is now back in play. But is it?
I wish it were all a game, but something tells me that it’s not, and this time, he is gone for good.
I look at Elan who munches on his apple again, and I can’t help but notice how cute he is, and innocent in a sense, and clueless.
I wish I could’ve fallen for someone like him instead, but things would’ve been so much easier then.
He would’ve loved me with all his heart, and would’ve done things for me, trivial things like driving my car into the shop to change the oil, and helping me around the house and making studying together so much fun.
We could’ve done all that, and he would’ve made me laugh and never cross me, and he would’ve made me feel loved, and yet, he would’ve never been enough.
As my thoughts reach this final point, I feel sick to my stomach. All human misery is man-made, and mine is no exception.
2
THEA
“He doesn’t answer my calls.”
My frustration is thick like the slice of pound cake sitting on my plate.
I pick up the dessert and take a bite before I continue painting my toenails, my phone sitting in front of me on the kitchen table with Liz on speaker.
“Did he say anything when he left?”
“No. Yes. He said he didn’t want to talk to me. That it wasn’t a good time to talk... Stuff like that.”
“And it was all because of Elan?”
“It looked that way, but I’m not sure I can believe it,” I mutter skeptically.
“What do you think it was?” Liz asks, chewing on food as well at the other end.
I stick the nail polish brush into the bottle and take another bite of cake, sugar-glazed walnuts crunching between my teeth.
I sip coffee as well
.
“I think that the night we spent together came as a surprise to him as well. I don’t know if it was clear to him what it was in terms of how we felt for each other. The night was perfect, don’t get me wrong, but Elan might’ve made him have second thoughts.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand either, but this is the only explanation that I can find,” I say, brushing crumbs off my hands. “I mean, think about it. I was the one who paid Ed a visit, not the other way around. Yeah, we talked things out and made amends to each other, and to me, that was a step toward something more serious than sex, but seemingly I was wrong.”
“Sex was good?”
“Sex is always good with him.”
She stays quiet.
My shoulders slump.
“It wasn’t only sex. He opened up to me again, and I felt...” I say with a strained voice before I pause for a few seconds. “I’ve never felt the way I felt with him that night,” I finally confess, mixed feelings coursing through me.
It’s been two days since it all happened, the night we spent together and then the moment he rushed out, and I can’t stop thinking about it, analyzing it and trying to make sense of it.
His silence is killing me, and so is the uncertainty.
I tried to assign guilt to him as well, but as much as I want to blame it on him, I can’t do it because it’s not working.
I bear most of the responsibility if nothing else for the fact that I failed to tell him about Elan, and I didn’t do enough to prevent that awkward situation from happening.
Liz doesn’t say a word, her silence unsettling as well.
“Do you think it’s bad?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t know what else to do. I left a ton of messages and sent him several texts. I even left a message in the old chat room although I have no idea if he’s still checking that app or not. I apologized to him. I said that I was sorry. I even explained to him that Elan was not my boyfriend. That there was no way that he could be. What else can I do?”
