Worlds Away

by Alexa Land

  “He’s not going to leave his desk, let alone the building. And if he somehow deviates from his routine and decides to go for a stroll, a member of my security team will go with him.”

  “Alastair’s life is weird. Do all rich people go everywhere with security details?”

  “Those who’ve attained a certain level of wealth, certainly. It paints a target on your back.”

  “And you think someone might come along and, what exactly? Kidnap Alastair? He’s a grown man, not a child.”

  “Doesn’t matter how old he is. Did you know most truly wealthy people take out kidnapping insurance? That should show you the risk isn’t as unheard of as you seem to think.”

  “It still seems far-fetched. Alastair told me once that his parents have always kept him and his sister out of the public eye, so no one even knows who he is. At what point does the fear of kidnapping become downright paranoid?”

  “That’s not the only reason why the Penelegions have tried to keep their children’s identity a secret.” We exited the side street, and he opened the back door of a black town car for me.

  After I slid inside and Roger joined me, the driver merged smoothly into the early evening traffic, and I asked, “Why else would they do that?”

  “Here’s the thing, Bonny. When you’re obscenely wealthy, everyone wants a piece of you. Aside from the risk of kidnapping, extortion, and a host of other ills that come with attracting the criminal element, there’s another risk, too. It’s less dangerous, but also far more common and quite insidious.”

  We stopped at a light, and Roger gestured at a bodega on the corner. At least a dozen gossip rags were prominently displayed out front, each vying for attention with lurid headlines. I said, “Ah. Yeah, I could see why you’d want to avoid the paparazzi at all costs.”

  “They’re vermin. Best thing his parents ever did for him was to keep Alastair’s identity hidden. It’s the only way he can lead a semblance of a normal life, aside from certain concessions, such as yours truly.”

  “Well, I’m grateful for all you do, not only as Alastair’s bodyguard, but as his friend. That said, I don’t need a chaperone to have dinner with my ex, because he’s not a risk to me.” A thought occurred to me, and I raised an eyebrow. “Unless this is something else entirely. Are you here because you don’t trust me, Roger? Do you think I might cheat on Alastair? Because just so you know, I’d never do that, not in a million years!”

  Roger held up his hands and said, “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, Bonny. Assuming you’re wearing any. You, I trust. It’s Garcia I ‘ave issues with. He’s a loose cannon, that one. Over the last year, he’s been spiraling out of control, from the looks of it. I did a little more digging after I spoke to you. A friend of a friend works at the U.S. Embassy, and he characterized Garcia as volatile. Not good, you must admit. But don’t worry, as long as the situation stays under control, Garcia won’t even know I’m there.” It still seemed pointless, but so did arguing, so I decided to let it drop.

  The driver dropped me off in front of the famous Covent Garden market. Roger was going to give me a couple minutes before getting himself a table at the restaurant. I thought as I crossed the cobblestone plaza that ‘market’ wasn’t quite the right word for it, not anymore. It seemed more like a glass-roofed, open-ended mall, far removed from what it must have been like in the days of My Fair Lady.

  To my left were a few storefronts on the ground floor of a row of stately buildings. Café Valerie was among them. The little French bistro looked cozy and unassuming through its plate-glass windows, which were underscored with bright flower boxes. It also looked closed. This was confirmed when I reached the front door and read the sign that said: closed Mondays and Tuesdays.

  I’d just turned away from the café when the door swung open. A dark-haired guy dressed in a white chef’s jacket asked, with a faint French accent, “Sawyer MacNeil?” When I nodded he held the door open for me and said, “We’ve been expecting you. Please come in.”

  “But the sign says you’re closed.”

  “Tracy is a personal friend. For him, I’m doing this favor,” he explained. I tried not to frown as I stepped past him and into the restaurant.

  The lights were low, calling my attention to one table at the back of the café. It was surrounded by candlelight. Tracy jumped to his feet when he saw me and picked up a bouquet of red roses. He was wearing a dark suit and tie, and his expression was so hopeful. I muttered, “Shit,” under my breath.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, pulling out my chair when I approached the table. “You look great.”

  I was dressed in the same black T-shirt, jeans and motorcycle jacket I’d been wearing when he saw me earlier. I’d decided changing any part of my outfit would make it seem like I was treating this as a date. “Tracy,” I said, “we have to talk.” His friend slipped into the kitchen, so we had the place to ourselves.

  “I know. That’s why we’re here.” He was still holding the chair and the roses, and still looking at me with that expression that just broke my heart.

  I was feeling so uncomfortable that I said, “Can we go for a walk or something? I know you and your friend went to a lot of trouble here, but this isn’t what I had in mind when I agreed to meet you.”

  “It’s too much, isn’t it? The flowers, the candlelight. I wanted to make a gesture, show you I’ve changed. No more sneaking around or denying what you mean to me.”

  “I appreciate that, but you’ve misread the situation.”

  “I know you’re probably still pissed off at me,” he said. “I don’t expect you to just forgive and forget. I’m willing to do the work, whatever it takes to earn your trust.”

  “Tracy—”

  “Don’t say no. Please? I need this. I need you, Sawyer. You’re what I’ve always needed.”

  There was so much grief in his eyes that I stepped forward and gently touched his arm as I asked, “What happened? None of this is you, not even a little. Neither are the things I’ve been hearing about you lashing out at your superiors and having trouble on the job. I know it’s not because we broke up, either. There’s something else going on here. Did someone hurt you, Tracy?”

  Anger flashed in his dark eyes, and he took a step back as he crossed his arms over his chest, instantly on the defensive. “Of course not! Who could possibly hurt me?” The denial was so vehement that I knew without a doubt he was lying.

  “You don’t have to tell me what happened. It’s none of my business. But you really should talk to someone. A counselor, maybe. It could help.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, and finally he muttered, “There are some things you don’t talk about. Not with anyone.”

  I said, “I hope someday, you find someone who you can open up to. I know you need that, Tracy, because it’s what we all need. I also hope you find someone you trust enough to give your heart to, but that person’s not me. Maybe it could have been at one time, but not anymore. I wish you all the best, but I don’t know what else to say, so I’m going to go now.”

  His arms dropped to his sides, and he said, “That’s it? You came all the way to the UK just to tell me thanks but no thanks?”

  I decided I needed to be totally honest with him, and I admitted quietly, “Until today, I didn’t even know you were in London. It’s a coincidence that we’re both in the city at the same time. When I found out you were here, I did come to see you. That’s why I was in front of the embassy. But I was looking for closure, not reconciliation. I didn’t know you still had feelings for me, because I hadn’t read any of your emails until this afternoon. I’m sorry, Tracy. I know this isn’t how you expected tonight to go, and you’re probably pretty pissed off at me right now. But if you decide at some point that you want to talk or need a friend, send me an email, okay? I’ll start checking that account again, just in case.”

  He dropped the roses on the floor and muttered, “I don’t need your pity.”

  “That’s not what I’m o
ffering you! I miss our friendship, Tracy, and I’d like to get it back. Maybe that’s impossible, given the million ways we’ve fucked this up. But I’d like to try, because I’ll always care about you, as a friend. That’s just the way it is. Maybe it seems like a poor substitute for what you wanted to happen here, but it’s all I can offer.”

  “Is there someone else? Is that why you’re not even considering this?”

  “I do have a boyfriend, and he means the world to me, but he’s not the reason I won’t get back together with you. Long before I ever met him, I moved on from this relationship. It took a long time, but I finally did it. If I can do that, you can, too, and the first step is letting go of the past.”

  Tracy studied a spot on the floor. I didn’t know what else to say, so I headed for the exit. After a moment, he called, “That guy you’re seeing now. Does he treat you right?”

  I paused and said, “Yeah, he does.”

  “That’s good. Don’t ever let anyone treat you like I did, Sawyer. You deserve so much better than that.”

  I whispered, “Please take care of yourself, Tracy,” and turned and left the restaurant. My heart ached.

  Roger was waiting outside, and he fell into step with me. “That was quick,” he said. I just nodded. “Doing a bit of anger-walking now, are we?”

  “Not anger.” When I reached the street and the black town car, I hung a right and strode past it. Roger followed me.

  “What exactly happened back there?”

  “Closure, I guess,” I muttered. “That thing I always wanted. Turns out, it fucking sucks.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s not this nice, tidy, tie-everything-up-with-a-bow kind of thing. I had to hurt Tracy back there, and I hate that.”

  “How did you hurt him?”

  “By telling him the truth, that I’d moved on. He needed to hear it, because otherwise, he’ll never be able to do the same. But it felt like I was taking a paring knife to his heart.”

  Roger said, “Gruesome mental imagery there, Bonny.”

  “It should be. What I just did back there was brutal, no two ways about it. I mean, here’s this guy who must have had something horrible happen to him over this last year. What I don’t know, because he wouldn’t tell me. Part of it might have been our breakup, but something else happened too, and it changed him, profoundly. After that, he started pouring his heart out in literally hundreds of emails, and what did he get in exchange for opening up to me? A knife in his chest. Fuck. He’ll probably never trust anyone ever again.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I hope I’m wrong.”

  Roger said, “It had to happen. Like you said, he needed to know the truth if he was ever to move on.”

  We walked in silence for a couple minutes. The sidewalks were fairly crowded, but I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings. After a while, Roger ventured, “Is the plan to walk all the way back to your flat? It’s a couple miles, just so you know. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I’ll simply mention that these are new shoes. Not exactly broken in yet.”

  I stopped walking and turned to Roger. “Since the nonexistent threat of violence from my ex-boyfriend has passed, and since it’s early evening and I’m probably not in imminent danger of getting jumped by a gang of British street thugs who’d probably be armed with umbrellas instead of guns, you don’t have to walk with me.”

  “Maybe I just like your company.”

  “I’m pretty sure you think I’m a pain in the ass.”

  Roger grinned at me and said, “Aye, you are that. But I’ve grown accustomed to you, Bonny. And it doesn’t hurt a fellow to feel useful, now does it?”

  I finally got why he was hanging around. “You miss Alastair, don’t you?” Roger just shrugged and tried to play it off. I noticed we were standing in front of a bakery, and I said, “Come on, let’s go inside and pick up some biscuits. I’m starving. Ridiculous name for cookies, by the way. Maybe your mom might like some, too. What do you suppose she’s doing tonight?”

  “Same as every other night. I’m sure she’s got her arse parked in front of the telly.”

  “Well, you and I probably have three or four hours to kill before Alastair calls it quits for the night. What do you say to loading up on baked goods and parking our asses in front of that TV with your mom?”

  “You’re in London, Bonny. Without a doubt, this is one of the greatest, most fascinating cities in all the world. Is that all you can think to do with your free time, spending it with me and a pensioner while watching repeats of Are You Being Served?”

  “Tomorrow night, I have an interview at that strip club I mentioned. When I went in earlier today, they took a couple pictures of me with my shirt off and had me pole dance, which made me feel slutty and awkward at the same time. I guess it went well though, because they told me to come back and meet the owner. Anyway, if I get the job, and if they ask me to start right away, this will be my last opportunity to enjoy a wholesome evening for a while. Besides, I can’t wait to meet your mom. If she brings out old photos of you in short pants and a beanie hat, then my life will be complete.” I flashed Roger a big smile, and he rolled his eyes as he pushed open the door to the bakery.

  *****

  Alastair met us at Roger’s mom’s house when he left the office at ten (an early night for him). He brought his driver in with him, and we all enjoyed tea and cookies while Mrs. Foster beamed delightedly, pinched Alastair’s cheeks, and regaled us with stories from his and Roger’s childhoods.

  I finally had a moment alone with my boyfriend when we told Mrs. Foster we’d refill the kettle and retreated to the kitchen together. I pulled him into my arms and kissed him, then said, “Hi, Allie.”

  “Hello, love. How was your dinner with Tracy?”

  “It wasn’t dinner, just five awkward minutes of painful conversation. I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

  “Sure, long as I know you’re alright.”

  “I will be.” I kissed his forehead and he nuzzled my cheek.

  “Good. I was worried about you.”

  “So was Ro. He’s a bit aimless since you’ve been spending so much time at work, and tonight he made me his project. I’m not complaining. He’s a good friend, and I know he means well.”

  “That he does.”

  I looked around us and said, “His mom is a trip. She looks like a floating head with that perfect camouflage she’s got going on. It’s kind of freaking me out.” Mrs. Foster’s couch, wallpaper, and dress were all variations on a very similar pink floral print, so one blended right into the other.

  Alastair laughed and said, “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “She’s nice though, and she obviously adores you.”

  “She’s a dear. I’ve known her all my life. Her sons, her late husband, and his father all worked for the Penelegion family.”

  “I don’t say this to be rude, but she seems more like Roger’s grandmother than his mom.”

  Alastair said, “He was a surprise baby, born when his parents were in their fifties. Ro’s brothers are decades older than he is.”

  “Must have been a lonely childhood.”

  “Well, I came along when he was nine and tried my best to make sure it wasn’t,” he said. I was reminded once again that Roger wasn’t an employee, not by a long shot. He was family.

  When the kettle was hot, we replenished everyone’s teacups, and Alastair carried the tray back into the living room. I watched him as he distributed the cups and joked and laughed with Mrs. Foster and his driver, a short, stocky man named Herbert. In his expensive suit, and with his two hundred dollar haircut and handmade Italian shoes, Alastair shouldn’t have fit in at all in that middle-class parlor with its floral everything and collection of ceramic cats. He did, though, just by being himself, the warmest, most genuine, kindest man I’d ever known. I thought, not for the first or last time, how incredibly lucky I was to get to be a part of his life.

  *****


  I told him that, hours later when we were curled up naked under a couple blankets in my attic apartment, and he flashed me a lazy smile and said, “I’m the lucky one, Sawyer. My life is infinitely better because you’re a part of it.”

  He stretched up and kissed me, and I ran my fingertips down the curve of his back. We’d spent the last couple hours fucking. It had been passionate and wild, as if it had been years instead of days since the last time we’d been together.

  After a moment, he asked, “If you end up getting the job at the strip club, how late do you suppose you’ll be working each night?”

  “I don’t know. Probably about as late as you do.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it.”

  “I’m not, but a job’s a job. I can’t just be idle while I’m here.”

  He watched me for a moment, then said, “Next Friday, I want to take you on a date. It’ll be in the middle of the night, so it won’t matter if you have to work late.”

  I grinned at him and asked, “What kind of date do you have planned at that hour?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He grinned at me, and I tilted his chin up and kissed him again. Then I said, “Hey, I just remembered something. Can you reach my suitcase?”

  He leaned off the edge of the bed and said, “It’s right here. We pulled it over so we could get to the lube and condoms.”

  “Look in the pocket inside the lid. I have something for you.”

  He pulled his leather-bound journal from the pocket and exclaimed, “Thank you, Sawyer! I’ve missed this. I’d taken to writing my thoughts on a yellow legal pad in its absence, but it’s just not the same.”

  “You’re welcome, but that’s not actually what I wanted you to find.”

  He put the journal on the end table and fished in the pocket again. When he produced a cardboard box, he sat up, straddled my hips, and asked, “Is this it?”