Beauty Awakened

by Allyson Lindt

  And now...

  She should sleep. Or watch TV. Anything to keep her from climbing out of her own skull.

  Antonio was sitting in the chair near her bed because the only way to get Mom to go home and sleep was for him to promise to stay.

  Tara had insisted she’d be okay alone for a few hours. That was what the hospital staff was for. Secretly, she was grateful for the company, even Antonio was scrolling through his phone. Conversation hurt, but loneliness would be worse.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered.

  That sounded much more interesting than wallowing in her own thoughts. “What’s up?”

  “Were you recording when this all happened?”

  She was grateful he used vague terms. She was trying her best to block out the details of the confrontation with Marco. Then his meaning clicked. “Yes. I was testing lighting.”

  “So, apparently Nathan has that footage. And now the entire internet does too.”

  Tara struggled to process what that meant. “I recorded it? And he released it? She was going to be sick. Why would he do that?

  Because it showed Marco attacking her. “Let me see.”

  “No.” Antonio held his phone out of reach. Not that it took much. “You’re whimpering in your sleep. You don’t get to relive it.”

  It was a good point. The fractured pieces of what happened made her ill. But she had to know. “If the news gets a hold of it, I’m going to see it anyway.”

  “At least give yourself a little time.”

  Tara should listen. She’d never been great at that when she didn’t want to hear. She grabbed her own phone, and with a few swipes, was logged into the account for her and Nathan’s channel.

  Hearing the conversation on tiny speakers, with a distant microphone, made the entire thing feel surreal. She needed that. As she watched the event play out from a removed perspective, she felt everything all over again. Did she want to cry or scream? Both, if it wouldn’t bring a parade of nurses crashing into her room.

  This was worse than the first time, though. There was an underlying anticipation. She knew how it all ended, and waiting to see it twisted her gut in new and unique ways.

  “Turn it off,” Antonio said.

  You’re not the boss of me. She swallowed the childish remark. “No.”

  She whimpered as she watched herself be kicked to the ground, and the pain in her chest intensified.

  And then Nathan and Nick were rushing Marco, and camera was knocked aside like one of those overdone first-person horror movies.

  A surge of affection mingled with her horror, and soothed her burning lungs. Tears leaked from her eyes.

  Antonio took her phone away, and she didn’t protest.

  Marco had no idea. She’d never wanted to be a princess. Her entire life she fought against that. But for this one brief moment, she was grateful to have two valiant knights to rescue her.

  “Are you all right?” Antonio asked.

  She sank back into the bed, exhausted. “No. But yes.”

  Tara was glad she’d watched the entire thing, unedited and without commentary. Over the next day or so, the video went viral. YouTube pulled it based on a complaint from Marco’s people, but it didn’t matter. Copies were out there. Websites were talking about it. Local news, and then international picked up the story.

  Marco held a press conference within twelve hours, to spin things, but it didn’t go his way. He ended up walking away from the mic, with reporters shouting questions at his retreating back.

  Bitter amusement filled Tara at the sight. It wasn’t a fraction of what he deserved, but it was a nice starting point.

  She dozed between it all. Mom made sure she always had company. When Dad stopped by, she gave him the biggest hug she could manage, between the monitors and bruises.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep them here,” he said as he settled into what she was dubbing lookout post one.

  So was Tara. “Thank you for trying.” Had they really argued just a few weeks ago over whether or not dating more than one person was a phase in Tara’s life? Christmas Eve seemed so long ago.

  It was dark here, which meant midday in the States. She wanted to call Nathan and Nick, but didn’t want to have the conversation in front of anyone else. Fortunately, she had the perfect guard to make that happen.

  “Papà?” she said sweetly.

  He rolled his eyes, but gave her his full attention.

  “I’m dying for a chocolate brownie and some tea. I’m so tired of hospital food.” It actually wasn’t bad, but she was more interested in him walking away for a few minutes, than in the food itself.

  Though, now that she thought about it, a brownie sounded really good.

  He patted her arm and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time? I probably wouldn’t notice if you were gone half an hour or so.”

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She hated being laid up like this, but it was hard to complain about being a little spoiled. As soon as he was gone, she FaceTime’d Nathan.

  “Hey, Bella.” He answered within a few rings.

  The nickname sounded so much better rolling off his tongue. It shoved aside the foul associations she had of Marco saying it. She didn’t recognize the room behind him, but he’d texted to say he was staying with Nick. “Is now a good time?”

  “Even if it wasn’t, I’d make it one. How are you?”

  She felt like she’d been run over. But by a smaller truck than she felt yesterday. “Better. How are you settling in?”

  “I’ll show you. You can have the grand tour of my new...” He frowned. “Place I sleep.” And then his smile was back, and too bright. “This is the living room, the kitchen, and the bedroom.”

  She wasn’t surprised at the straight-out-of-a-catalog look. She was both pleased and a touch envious to see Nathan’s luggage in Nick’s bedroom. “Does Nick know how lucky we are we saved him from himself?” she teased.

  “Right?”

  “You know I can hear you.” Nick’s retort echoed in the background.

  Nathan pointed the camera at him.

  Nick waved. “And it’s a fair point, you did save me. I’m pretty much the luckiest fucking guy in history.”

  “I miss you guys so much.” This call was supposed to make her feel better, not remind her of what wasn’t here.

  “Us too,” Nick said, moving closer to Nathan, so they were both in frame.

  She couldn’t dwell. If she tumbled into that pit, she’d never climb out. “I saw the video you posted.”

  Nathan winced. “I hope it was all right. I hadn’t slept in more than a day, and with everything that just happened...”

  “I wasn’t sure, but I’m glad you did it.” As much as she hated reliving it, the fallout was worth it. “I doubt you see the details there, but there’s pressure for his resignation.”

  “It’s a start.” Nathan settled onto a beige couch, and Nick sat next to him. “Speaking of videos, I have us covered. You focus on feeling better, and when you’re there we can set something up to get us on camera side-by-side.”

  She was grateful he moved onto work. “You don’t have to pick this up on your own. We’re eligible for an extension.”

  “I’ll do that if you prefer, but otherwise, we’ve got things here. I’ll keep you in the loop, you just have to promise not to work too hard.”

  She should be terrified to hand over control, even though the channel was as much his as hers. But there was a comfort in the idea that she could trust him with it. “Okay. I’ll be watching. Mostly for the host.”

  Nathan’s smile was back. “I can’t blame you for that.”

  They chatted a little longer, until her throat was raw. Dad would be back soon anyway.

  “Call me tomorrow,” she said. “Even if I can’t talk, I’ll listen.”

  She exchanged I love yous with Nathan. There was a sting that Nick didn’t offer the same, but neither did
she. She wanted the first time she said that to him to be in person.

  And she wasn’t willing to say it if she couldn’t stay with him. With them.

  That was the one thought she’d avoided more than any other. They weren’t coming back. Their release hinged on that. She could go there, though it would be at least a month—she couldn’t fly with her eardrum ruptured.

  But that meant leaving her family behind. The thought of that might hurt as much as the idea of Nathan and Nick being long-distance.

  What was she supposed to do?

  THE TEXT FIONA SENT Nick said I saw the video with Tara. Makes me hate whoever that was, but proud you’re my brother.

  He smiled for the half minute it took to get her next message.

  I’m still furious with you.

  That was more in line with the email correspondence they’d had since he got back. Any work conversations were conducted digitally, and were as terse as Fiona was capable of .

  He couldn’t let this drag on. It was the middle of the day and she wasn’t traveling this week, so she should be home working.

  The same way he should be.

  He left Nathan prepping for a video and headed to Fiona’s apartment. At least, he hoped it still was. He doubted she’d moved in the last couple of weeks, especially without saying anything, but spite could lead to extreme reactions.

  A short while later, he knocked on her apartment door.

  Parker answered, leaning against the doorframe and blocking the entrance. “Hey, local-hero-goes-international.”

  “Anyone would have done the same.” Nick didn’t like the crossed-arm body language. Parker had always been Fiona’s friend first, but he and Nick used to be close too.

  “I doubt that.” Parker’s tone was curt.

  So much for small talk. “Is Fiona home?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I speak with her?”

  “Nope.”

  Nick should have expected this. Not that he had any complaints that Fiona’s men were protective. Okay, just one complaint. “I’m here to apologize.”

  Parker shook his head. “Answer’s still no.”

  “Hey, boss.” Wyatt’s voice came from the hallway behind Nick.

  His desire to deal with Fiona’s security squad was growing thinner with each passing second. “Just let me talk to her.”

  “If you were me, would you let you in, Mr. International Hero?” Parker asked.

  “No.”

  “We have everything under control,” Wyatt said “We can talk in our next meeting. Or if it’s better for you, take a few days off. Or a few weeks.”

  Irritation spilled through Nick, and he clenched a fist. “How did we go from not talking to Fiona to me not working?”

  “You tell me.” Wyatt shrugged.

  Nick caught a glimpse of Fiona behind Parker. She was listening. He pushed aside enough frustration to keep his tone even and sincere. “If you’d give her a message for me. Tell her I’m sorry. About everything. I was wrong.” Nick considered that and looked at Wyatt. "Except about you. You were still an asshole and I won’t apologize for being upset about what you did.”

  “Don’t know why you should. I was the one who fucked up. But your apology loses its oomph if you keep falling back on that. The rest of us have moved on.”

  Nick forced his jaw to unclench. “Right. I should have come clean about everything. I’d rather tell Fiona in person, but if she doesn’t want to see me, I can’t force her to.”

  “Noted.” Parker stepped aside.

  Wyatt brushed past Nick to take advantage of the opening. “Later,” Wyatt said.

  Nick had so many thoughts about how this was childish and inappropriate. And none of them held weight next to the things he’d kept from Fiona.

  He walked back to his car, mind whirring. When they started this venture, it was a fantastic idea. Fiona wanted it. Nick wanted to see it thrive.

  Over the last couple of years, things had gotten tenser between them. How had he not noticed? These two blow-outs hadn’t come out of nowhere, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise.

  Would it be a bad thing if everything collapsed?

  Of course it would. Fiona would be devastated.

  Would Nick?

  He wanted to believe yes. But a sliver of relief at the thought betrayed his indignation.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nathan knew from the way the front door slammed shut that things hadn’t gone well for Nick.

  The guy might be cool and collected, but once he let his guard down around people, Nick wore his feelings like a badge.

  “How’d it go?” Nathan asked anyway, when Nick stepped into the kitchen.

  They were using the dining room table as a temporary work station.

  Nick sank into a chair with a heavy sigh. “Could have been worse. Could have gone a lot better, but it could always be worse.”

  “Not quite a don’t worry be happy attitude.” Nathan kept his tone light. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing. I appreciate the offer, but the ball’s in her court now.”

  “What if you left it there?” Nathan’s question slipped out without thought. He considered the words. Why did he say that?

  Nick’s raised eyebrows and focused gaze seemed to reflect the question. “The ball?”

  “Yeah. After so many mornings of watching you wake up, I’ve figured something out." He had? Yes. It didn’t make sense until now, but Nathan had seen it. “You smile far bigger on days you don’t have to work.”

  “That’s life for most of us. We’ve already had this conversation.”

  They had already talked about this, and something about Nick’s answers always sat wrong with Nathan.

  He finally knew what it was. “But this is your company. If you’re going to custom build your job, it should be something you enjoy.”

  “Like what?” Nathan asked.

  “I can’t tell you that. Neither can Fiona. You said you wanted to inspire people with new ideas. Do that.”

  “That’s not really a job,” Nick said.

  “So we’ll figure it out.” Nathan scooted closer, and leaned in on the table. “When you came to Chicago, you saved me. I was drowning, and you showing up when you did, with no expectations, just an offer of friendship and an invitation to join you... you pulled me out of that pit.”

  Nick ducked his head. A rare display of humbleness. “You would have gotten there anyway.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You guaranteed. Let’s do the same for you. Forget for a minute about Fiona.” Nathan thought about the suggestion. That was the wrong path to take. “On second thought, forget I said that. Think about if you were doing something else, would she still survive? My guess is yes. And you’d thrive.”

  “She deserves my support.” Nick’s retort was weak.

  “She has that regardless, doesn’t she?”

  Nick raked his fingers through his hair. “She does. What’s it like?”

  Nathan studied him, trying to find a source for the question. “What?”

  “Being able to write things off so easily. Telling Tara to walk away from her home. Telling me to give up my business. How do you compartmentalize like that?”

  The words hurt. Nathan frowned. “I’m offering you a new solution, that’s practical. I’m not trying to take anything from you. And I was trying to help her.”

  “I’m going to go work in the other room. Give you some space to plan your next shoot.” Nick pushed back from the table, and grabbed his laptop.

  Nathan didn’t know who he was more annoyed with—himself for what was apparently a callous suggestion, or Nick for refusing to hear him out.

  TARA WATCHED THE PRESS conference with bitter glee when Marco announced his resignation. It was a great way to kick off the morning she was going to be discharged.

  And being busy for the next couple of hours would keep her from checking her email obsessively. After the hate she’d received in the past, she expected she�
��d be bombarded with insults by the hundreds for this. After all, it had been her in that video, so she must be to blame, right?

  She wasn’t. The voice asking that question was still there, but it was easier to ignore than it ever had been. She was in the right. She deserved better than Marco. Anyone deserved better than Marco, even the bitter, spiteful Matilde.

  Tara fidgeted on the ride home. Dad drove, and Mom kept up a steady stream of conversation—most of it about how her friends were reacting to this news. Who was scandalized, who was saying I told you so, and who was no longer speaking to the Bianchi family.

  Tara had been going out of her mind in the hospital, but she had company there. Her apartment would be empty. And this time, Nathan wasn’t coming back.

  She didn’t want to be alone there again.

  When they reached her place, Dad carried her bag inside and upstairs. When he set the luggage down, she realized one of the cases wasn’t hers. “Mom. Is that your suitcase?”

  “It is. Didn’t I mention I’m staying with you for a few days. I thought I said something.”

  “You did not.”

  “Well, I’m staying with you. I don’t want you here alone, especially with your ribs and balance being off.” Mom pointed her toward the couch. “Go sit down.”

  Under almost any other circumstance, Tara would argue. Right now, she wanted to sob with relief.

  Dad kissed her on the forehead, then gave Mom a long kiss. “We’ll be by this weekend to help you pack up Nathan’s things, and get them shipped. Listen to your mother, and don’t push yourself too hard.”

  “Okay.” Sadness rushed in to tinge her relief. Of course they had to get rid of Nathan’s things. He couldn’t come back for them.

  A little more than three weeks, and she could go visit. The last few days had been torture. She didn’t know how she was going to hold out for a month.

  And she still needed to decide if she was staying here or moving there. She didn’t want to make that choice. This was her life. Her family was here. She knew this place. She loved her home.

  Why did it have to be missing the two things she didn’t want to do without?