“So, what was it like growing up in Onah-Napor?” I ask, taking another long drink of champagne to cover my sudden discomfort.
“It was beautiful,” he says, draining his own glass.
I wait, but he doesn’t say more.
“Just beautiful? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Ah, no. It’s just me. My parent’s marriage wasn’t exactly a happy one. I suppose by the time I came along they were truly at odds with each other.”
I frown, “That’s awful. I’m sorry. It must have been lonely.”
He fills his glass and tops mine off as well.
“It was sometimes. I had lots of friends, lots of playmates.”
“Like Aiden?”
He nods. “Aiden is one of my oldest friends. Our families were close, my father worked for his. We grew up together. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother.”
“Yeah, I caught that vibe. And Tommy?”
The side of his mouth turns up in a lopsided grin, “Tommy is a bit younger than us, but his family lives near mine. He was always tagging along as a child, I supposed he hasn’t changed much.”
He begins telling me stories of them sneaking down to the coast as children, getting lost in the sea caves.
I listen, watching as his cheeks flush. Between the alcohol and the memories, it’s like he’s relaxing—really relaxing--for the first time.
And it might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
He talks and I listen intently until our food arrives. Spinning his pasta around his fork skillfully, he hesitates.
“I feel like I could tell you anything,” he muses. “Why is that?”
“I have a very trustworthy face,” I tell him. “it’s a waitress thing. People come in all the time and tell me their problems.”
“I thought that was a bartender thing.”
Jabbing my fork in his direction, I counter. “Nope. You’ve been deceived my friend. Television has lied to you.”
He laughs and I stab at my chicken, moaning at the first delicious bite.
“Oh my god, you have to try this,” I say, stabbing another forkful and holding it out to him.
He leans forward, accepting the bite.
“Oh, yeah. That is good. But not as good as this,” he says, twirling another forkful of noodles and holding it our for me.
I take the bite, and he’s right. It’s buttery and cheesy and I can practically feel my arteries clogging.
“Well, I know what I’m getting from this meal. Diabetes.”
He laughs and we continue eating, chatting and laughing until all the food, and all the wine, is gone. The waiter brings over two glasses of brandy, and it’s warm and sweet on my tongue. I watch Aiden over the edge of me glass as he drinks, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment as he savors the taste. He looks completely open, his guard down, his barriers forgotten in the moment. When he sees me watching, he smiles and it ignites something inside me that I haven’t felt in…maybe ever.
I’ve decided on our next destination before we step back onto the sparkling street. It may be one I’m going to regret, but something tells me I’d regret not doing it even more.
Crossing back through Midtown we make our way towards 57th street.
The building is tall, stretching a dozen stories high and overlooking the river. We stop outside the door and I knock once, a habit I picked up after walking in on Liz au natural one too many times. The girl is a nudist at heart, so it’s good to give her a bit of warning. Especially if I’m bringing company.
When I don’t hear her tell-tale cry of hold on, I swipe my key.
“So what’s this? Some trendy club?” Liam asks as I push the door open and motion for him to enter.
“No, it’s just my apartment,” I say, managing to feel both silly and excited at the same time.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable, then gazes around the room.
“Make yourself at home,” I say. “You want a drink? Chocolate milk?” I tease.
“Whatever you’re having,” he calls over his shoulder as he wanders toward the small balcony.
I round the wall and head into the small kitchen, opening the cabinet beside the stove to examine my inventory. It’s mostly flavored vodka, Liz’s favorite, but way in the back I find a forgotten bottle of Johnny Walker Black. With a sigh of relief, I fill two glasses, down one in a swallow, and fill it again before heading back to him.
He’s moved onto the bookshelf now, and he’s examining one of the hardbound texts.
“There is a shocking amount of Jane Austin on this shelf,” he says, excepting the glass as I hold it out to him.
“Liz,” I say, holding up my glass before taking a slow sip. “She’s a terrible romantic.”
“The Curse of the High IQ?” he reads on one spine.
“Also Liz,” I say over the rim of my drink.
“If you say so. What about Dostoevsky?”
“That’s mine.”
“And Fifty Shades of Grey?”
I grin, “Also mine. Are you shocked?”
He turns to me, “Intrigued.”
He sips on his drink and I lean back against the green velvet sofa, looking at my watch.
“What time is it?” he asks.
“Late,” I admit. The hours have gone so quickly, days and nights passing around us without even realizing. “Is it pumpkin time?”
He frowns. “I hope not. Though I have to admit, these last few hours with you have felt like a fairy tale.”
“Fairy tales are overrated,” I offer. “Besides, any story can have a happy ending. It just depends on where you stop reading.”
He bites at his bottom lip. “Is that where we’re at now?”
He’s looking at me intently, waiting for me to pull the plug, I think. But I’m not going to do that. Not yet.
“I think we have a little time yet,” I say draining my glass and setting it on the shelf.
Closing the space between us, I lay my palms against his chest. I can feel his heart racing beneath my fingers. He sets his glass beside mine, unfinished.
“Haven,” he whispers, the sound of it somewhere between a prayer and a plea.
I bite the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t do this, just so you know…” I trail off. How can I possibly explain it to him when I don’t even understand myself? How can I tell him that he’s made me feel something I honestly thought I’d never feel again?
Still, I want him to know. I need him to understand. Everything is happening so fast and time is slipping away so quickly, I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t take this chance with him now.
Stretching onto my toes I kiss him. Slowly. Deeply.
Without further encouragement he clings to me. His hands are in my hair, on my back. His tongue explores my mouth even as his fingertips explore the edges of my body, leaving me ragged and breathless. I unbutton his shirt without parting lips. Tugging it free of his pants I push it back, off his shoulders and it falls to the ground.
He reaches down, cradling the backs of my knees and sliding his hands up my thighs, bringing my dress with it. I reach up and he draws it over my head.
My arms cross around my stomach on reflex, hiding the scars I hate so much. Tenderly, he strokes my arms, his hands taking mine and pulling them away.
“You don’t have to hide from me, Haven. Not anything. Not ever.”
Reluctantly I let him part my arms, and he traces the ridges with one finger.
“Every part of you is beautiful,” he whispers, scooping me off my feet. My legs wrap around his waist and I can feel him, hard and ready behind his slacks.
“Liam,” I half-moan.
He kisses me again. This time it’s desperate, frenzied. Our time is ticking away and it aches with every moment.
“My room,” I manage. “Down the hall. On the left.”
He carries me to my door, and I reach behind me to turn the knob. We spill inside and
he kicks it closed behind him, tossing me gently onto the edge of the bed.
Chewing at my lip I point at him, then gesture for him to come to me. He obeys as if in a trance. My hands work his belt, his pants vanish next. With skillful fingers he unlatches my white bra, releasing it to the ground.
The next several hours are a blur of hands and teeth and tongues. Of flesh and pleasure and exhaustion. Just as one wave washes over me, another is already building.
Finally, we lay, spent, in each other’s arms, my bedsheets and blankets heaped around us. My head is on his chest, my hair wild and cascading across his amber flesh. The rise and fall of his breath grounds me, holding me to the moment. I don’t know at what point I sleep. I fight it off for as long as I can. But far too soon the daylight streams through my sheer curtains bringing the unwelcome sight of morning.
Beside me Liam is awake, his fingers trailing spirals along my back as he watches me with an expression of wonder.
“Oh no. I fell asleep, didn’t I?” I ask, sitting up. “What time is it?”
“After seven,” he answers. “I was just about to wake you.”
“It’s time, isn’t it?”
He nods and I lay back down against him.
“It’s not fair,” I mutter, pouting.
“No, it isn’t fair. I’d give anything to be able to turn back time. To walk into your bar months ago—years ago.” He kisses my forehead.
“You know, I promised myself I wouldn’t ask you to stay,” I admit softly.
He brushes the hair back from my cheek. “I might stay if you did.”
His words should make me feel better, but the pain is nearly unbearable.
“That’s why I won’t,” I whisper.
He sighs and slides away, leaving me to his empty pillow. The bed is cold before he’s even fully out of it.
“I wish I could get to know you better,” I say, not hiding the regret in my voice.
Crawling across the bed, he wraps me in his arms. “You do know me. You know me better than maybe anyone ever has. Haven, I…” he hesitates, but I know what he’s about to say.
I press my mouth to his, kissing away the words.
“Don’t say it,” I order when I release him. “You can’t miss what you never had, right?”
Nodding once, he dresses. I watch, trying to memorize every detail, to capture it perfectly in my mind.
“Do you want to ride to the airport with me?” he asks once his shoes are on.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice. “No. I think I’m going to stay here and sleep.”
Maybe if I sleep long enough, when I wake up this will all feel like a dream. Maybe when I wake up, it won’t hurt so damn much.
“How can it hurt this much to say goodbye to someone you only just met?” he asks, one hand on my door.
I wish I knew the answer to that.
He cracks the door and I fly out of bed to stop him.
“Hold on,” I say, tying the sheet around me like an oversize towel. Rummaging around the floor I find my bag, hastily discarded last night. “I got you something.”
Pulling the bag inside out, I hand him the humble gift. He takes it, carefully opening the brown packing paper. Inside, a small glass replica of the Statue of Liberty sits in his palm.
“Haven, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
I bite at my lip, trying to keep the tears welling in my eyes from spilling over, “Just something so you don’t forget about me.”
He grabs me, pulling me into his arms for what I know will be the last time.
“That will never happen. I’ll go to my grave thinking about you. I can feel it.”
With that, I force myself to release him. “You should go. You’ll miss your flight.”
He nods and leaves, closing the door behind him. I wait, holding my breath until I hear the apartment door open and then click shut before I slide to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest, and let the tears come.
Two Months Later
“You working tonight?” Liz asks, putting the massive gold hoops through her ears in the bathroom mirror.
“I’ve got a date,” I say as I pass the door.
“Really?” she reaches out, grabbing me. I’m in my pajama shorts and light blue tank top. “I want to know everything.”
“It’s just me and Ben and Jerry,” I say, leaning against the counter and wagging my eyebrows suggestively. “It’s gonna be a threesome.”
She rolls her eyes, “Ice cream and boring documentaries will not bring you joy.”
“I disagree.”
Turning to me, she reaches out and takes me by the arms.
“It’s been two months. You have got to let it go. He’s not coming back, sweetie.”
Sighing, I try to force a smile, “I know that. I just don’t feel like dating right now. Isn’t that ok? Who says I need a man in my life anyway? I’ve got you and work. Maybe that’s enough for me. Would that be so awful?”
She snaps her fingers, “Hell no. But if you’re single because you want to be single, it’s one thing. If you’re single because you’re heart stuck on some one night stand, then yeah. You gotta get that shit right, Haven. For your own sake.”
“I just want to wallow a little longer, ok?” I plead. “It’s not even about Liam, it’s about me and how screwed up I am. I can’t even bring myself to date someone unless I know he’s leaving the country in the next twenty-four hours. What does that say about me?”
“Fine, you get one more day. Then you gotta bitch up, deal?”
“Deal,” I say, knowing I’ll regret it tomorrow.
Once she heads out, I flip on the TV and retrieve my pint from the freezer, along with a fresh bottle of Whiskey that’s already half gone. Normally I don’t drink alone, but the past week has been an exception. To say I’ve been distracted is putting it mildly. I’ve been walking around in a fog since Liam left. Which is the absolute stupidest thing. One day, goddamnit. I hadn’t even looked twice at a guy in over a year, then his hot mystery guy walks into my life and completely blows it up in one day.
If that doesn’t sum up my life, I’m not sure what does.
Maybe I should just go back to Kansas. Even just for a visit. Maybe a change of scenery would help me get my head on straight.
The knock on my door makes me jump. Shaking my head, I set my ice cream down and pull it open.
“What, did you forget your key?” I stop dead in my tracks.
It’s not Liz at the door.
It’s Aiden.
“Aiden?” I ask, blinking rapidly.
I glance over his shoulder, a lump rising in my throat.
“Hey, you remember. He isn’t with me if that’s who you’re looking for,” he says flatly. “Can I come in?”
“Um, sure,” I say, holding the door open. He strides in. He’s in dark jeans, boots, and a red flannel shirt with a white tee underneath. His hair is sandy brown and tussled like he just woke up, a shadow of stubble gracing his jaw. His eyes are hazel and rimmed in red. He looks…tired.
“Nice apartment,” he comments idly.
“Thanks, have a seat.” I motion to the couch.
He looks at the bottle, pointing. “Can I get one of those?”
“Sure thing,” I say, grabbing another glass from the kitchen. When I return, he’s on the sofa, wringing his hands between his knees.
“You pour,” I say, handing it to him.
He spins the cap off and pours over half a glass, taking a long drink.
“Thanks,” he says, finally beginning to relax. “I needed that.”
“I can tell. What’s going on? Is everything aright?”
He sits back. “Yes and no. Aid-Liam’s fine. If that’s what you’re worried about. Well, sort of fine.”
“Take a deep breath,” I order. “Lets start with, how did you know where I lived?”
“I made Kato tell me.”
“Your guard?”
He eyes me over the rim of his glass. “One of them
. How much do you know?”
I shake my head, “Not much.”
Scratching his chin, he takes another drink then sets the glass on the table. “Great. Then this is gonna sound completely insane.”
“Liam told me you were his best friend, that you were like a brother to him. Whatever you need to say, just say it. Go ahead and try me,” I say, leaning forward and taking a shot of my own. When he doesn’t speak, I wave my hands. “I mean it, hit me with it. I’m a big girl.”
“Fine. Firstly, his name is Aiden. I’m Liam, actually. Sometimes, hell, I gotta be honest, it was my idea to swap names. In case you were…tempted to look into him or something. Aiden is the crown prince of Onah-Napor. His mother, Queen Nami, passed away last week. He’s about to be crowned King.”
I stare at him for a log moment, digesting his words. He offers no hint of teasing, no ring of deception.
“How is he doing?” I ask. “I know his relationship with his mother was strained. Is he doing ok?”
Liam’s mouth falls open just a bit before he clamps it shut, grinning. “You believe me.”
“Of course I do.”
“Just like that?”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “Well, I’m kinda ticked he didn’t even give me his real name, but I suppose…I mean I get it, I guess. So unless the next words out of you mouth are to tell me he’s in desperate need of my life savings, then yes. I believe you. It’s a lot to process, but I’ll get there. Move on.”
“You know, I forgot how much I liked you,” he offers, finishing his drink. “Fine, here it is. He’s a wreck. He has been since he got home. His mother’s passing made it worse. Between us, I think he was looking for a way to abdicate. To come back here. Permanently.”
I suck in a breath. No, that’s insane. Surely he wouldn’t give up his whole life—his future—just to come back to me. As soon as I think it, I dismiss the thought. Liam probably just means to the states, back to school. Liam—no Aiden, I correct myself—was looking for a way out long before he met me.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“I’m thinking what a stupid, terrible idea that would be,” I say honestly.
He makes a face that suggests he agrees with that. “Well, it’s a moot point now. With his mother passing, the crown is his. Whether he likes it or not.”
Once Upon A New York Minute: Part 1 Page 4
