by Serena Grey
No such luck.
She was coming down the stairs as I climbed up. Even with her hair mussed and her face scrubbed, she was easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was wearing plain white pajamas in watered silk, and I briefly imagined peeling the delicate fabric from her limbs and feasting my eyes on what lay beneath.
She stopped walking when she saw me, and one hand went up to smooth her hair.
“I was going to the library,” she said. “To find something to read.”
Once, a long time ago, I’d stocked up on all the books by her favorite authors. Those books were shelved, still unread, because while we were married, she’d been too busy to come enjoy them.
I shrugged and lifted the bottle I was holding. “I needed a drink.”
“Many drinks,” she observed, her lips pursed in a delightfully disapproving expression that made me want to laugh or kiss them.
“I’m assuming you couldn’t sleep either.” I grinned. “You could help me with this bottle.”
She shook her head. “I’d rather not…in fact, I’ve changed my mind about the book. I think I’m going to try to sleep after all.”
“Wait.” I said it before I could think, before I could stop myself. There was a desire inside me not to let her go, at least for now. “Come on, Allie,” I said. “We can have a drink together.”
She shook her head. “I think we’d better not,” she said softly. “Good night Braden.”
I watched her walk away, and this time I allowed myself to remember the one time we’d been alone together, after our separation. As the memories surfaced, I felt my body harden, felt the desire for her that never really went away.
Maybe it was best, I decided. Maybe it was best if we just avoided each other.
Book Three
Past
Seventeen
Allie
“Ari sent a script over,” Meredith said, handing me a printed stack and setting my coffee down on the end table beside me. “It’s for a TV show.”
“Limited series?”
“No idea,” she replied, scrolling on her screen as she spoke.
I looked at the title on the script and wrinkled my nose. I loved TV, but I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. A successful series meant years of intense scheduling just to make anything else work. Ever since my separation, I’d scaled up the work. I was almost a robot as it was; I wasn’t sure I needed anything else on my plate. I took a hot sip of coffee and sighed. “This is perfect, Meredith, thanks.”
She was frowning at her screen. She’d only worked with me for a few months, but she was a professional, and I trusted her to manage the little things that popped up every day in my life. She was a godsend, and I had no idea how I’d managed without her.
“What is it?” I asked, my alarm bells ringing as she continued to frown at her screen. I expected something silly, like all the other rumors the tabloids created about me every day. If it was bad, my publicist Sean Collard would call and talk about plans to “change the narrative” or sue. Sometimes, it was harmless enough to ignore—news about who I was dating, whose husband I had kissed, who my estranged husband had kissed…such nonsense.
I swallowed a lump in my throat at the thought of Braden. My estranged husband. I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt me when his name came up in the news. Most times it was something to do with work, but he wasn’t spending our separation alone. Every time he was spotted somewhere exotic with someone beautiful, the tabloids gleefully let me know in brightly colored headlines just how much he wasn’t pining over me.
Meredith finally lifted her gaze from her phone. “It’s Braden,” she said softly. She’d never met him, but she knew to an extent how I’d felt, how I still felt about him. “His father had a heart attack and died two days ago. The family announced it just this morning.
I drew in a breath—the family, to which I didn’t belong anymore. I thought of Colton Rhodes. He’d always been kind to me. He and his wife had welcomed me into their family with open arms and stayed in touch even after Braden and I were over. I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh, God.”
“I’m sorry,” Meredith said.
I nodded. “I’d better call Celine,” I said, picking up my phone. It had been a few days since we’d spoken, just before Christmas, and now a few days after, her husband was dead.
I made the call and waited for her to pick up, wondering if I should wait a while before intruding on her grief. After a few moments, I heard her voice on the line.
“Oh, my darling!” she said. “I should have called you.”
“It’s okay,” I replied softly. “How are you?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m finding it hard to believe. The doctors say I’m in shock. Braden is making all the arrangements. It’s surreal.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, thinking of Braden and how devastated he must be feeling. He loved and admired his father. “How is he?” I managed.
“Allison…” Celine sighed. “Will you come? I could use a shoulder.”
“Of course,” I told her. “Of course. Whenever you want.”
Eighteen
Braden
When my mother arrived at the hospital a few minutes after the ambulance and was informed that my father was gone, she had to be sedated. Her unnatural calm after she woke up scared me more than the screaming she’d done before. She let me arrange the funeral according to the wishes my father left behind, barely saying a word to anyone in the days that followed his death.
Now, a day before the funeral, I went to check on her again.
“Braden,” Clayton greeted gravely when he opened the door for me. He’d worked for my parents for a few years and had no job description. He was efficient and dependable, as I’d been reminded again while planning the funeral.
“Clayton.” I inclined my head. “How is she?”
“Holding up,” he replied.
“Has she said anything about tomorrow?”
“Not to me,” Clayton said.
I nodded, worried my mother had still not faced the reality that the next day, she’d have to say goodbye forever.
“She has discussed a bit of it with Mrs. Rhodes,” Clayton added, inclining his head toward the living room.
I frowned. “Who?”
“Er…Miss Gilbert. Your wife.”
I stared at him, nearly speechless with shock…and much more—hope, anticipation and an embarrassing rush of pleasure.
It made me angry with myself, and with her.
What the hell is she doing here?
“Why is she here?”
“Because your mother invited her,” Clayton said, a little sternly. Like everyone else, he was wrapped around Allie’s finger. They all loved her. They couldn’t imagine why I had let her go.
They had no idea.
Allie wasn’t capable of placing anyone on the same level of importance as her precious career and commitments.
Yet, she was here.
“Will you be joining them?” Clayton gave me a pointed look, still holding my coat as if he expected me to take it from him and stomp out of the house.
“Yes, for heaven’s sake.” I didn’t bother to wipe the scowl off my face as I strode into the living room. My mother and Allie were seated on the sofa, their heads bent over what seemed to be a photo album.
My mother looked up as I entered, her beautiful features appearing almost fragile. Her eyes were red-rimmed with the tears she must have been crying in my absence.
“Braden,” she said quietly.
“I wanted to see how you were doing,” I replied, trying not at look at Allie. It was impossible not to be aware of her. She was beautiful, vibrant, radiant, and she filled the room with her essence like the star she was.
“I’m holding up,” my mother said, a small, sad smile hovering on her lips. “I was just showing Allison some pictures.”
I felt Allie’s eyes on my face. It was like heat and softness at the same time…like a phys
ical touch.
“Hello Braden,” she said.
Her voice dragged my gaze to her face, and I almost turned and walked out of the room right then, just because of how much even the sight of her could shake me up inside. She pulled at my heart. She tore at my soul.
Whatever you want.
The words still hurt.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said, injecting ease into my voice that I didn’t feel. What I really wanted to say was I don’t want you here.
“Your father loved Allison. He’d have wanted her here.” My mother closed the photo-album and gave me a chastising look. “She’s been a blessing to me since she arrived yesterday. While you’re busy with making all the arrangements, she is giving me the company I need.”
“You could have asked Aunt Corinne,” I said ungraciously.
My mother snorted. “Don’t be silly, Braden.”
Allie rose to her feet, facing me. She was dressed in a dark green dress that was very simply cut yet couldn’t hide the beautiful figure beneath. I had a lot on my mind—grief, concern for my mother, a funeral—yet at that moment I wanted to drag her from the room and bury myself in her body.
Maybe she saw my desire in my eyes because she looked away hastily and turned to my mother. “I’ll go catch up with Clayton while you two talk about tomorrow,” she said softly.
I watched her walk away, still trying to keep my desire in check.
“You never should have let her go,” my mother said softly once the door closed behind Allie.
“She let me go.”
My mother waved a dismissive hand. “You didn’t fight for her.”
I bit back a bitter retort. She was right, in many ways. Over the past year, I’d spent many lonely nights beating myself up about the things I should have done or said to convince Allie to make our marriage a priority.
“If you had bothered,” my mother continued sagely, “you would have changed her mind.”
“Is that what she told you?” My voice was dry.
“Oh no. We never talk about you.”
I went to the decanter and poured myself a drink, stung by the statement, though I had no idea why. It wasn’t like the thought of them exchanging girlish confidences about me was palatable in the least, but the knowledge that Allie didn’t care enough to talk about me was far worse.
“I don’t want to talk about her either. I came to see you, mother, and to talk about tomorrow.”
Her face clouded, and she took a deep breath. “I’m ready, Braden. I won’t get hysterical or scream and shame you and your father.”
I took her in my arms. “You can do anything you want, and neither Dad nor I would ever be ashamed of you.”
Her body shook. “I have no idea how I’ll survive.”
“You will.” I smiled down at her. “And I’ll be here.”
She nodded. “I don’t have much of an appetite, but if you want to stay for dinner, Clayton will arrange something for you and Allison.”
“No need.” I didn’t have much of an appetite either, and I wasn’t sure I could spend the evening in the same house with Allie without saying or doing something we would both regret. “I’ll send a car tomorrow.”
She nodded and patted my cheek. “I never even asked you how you were doing.”
I smiled. “It’s okay, Mom. For now, let me take care of you.”
She walked with me to the door and handed me my coat. “You really should say good night to Allison and try to talk about…things. She’s a wonderful person, Braden. You shouldn’t…”
“I’ll see her tomorrow,” I interrupted. “We can talk then, though I’m sure she’s not eager to talk to me.”
“You’d be surprised,” my mother said cryptically.
I didn’t ask her what she meant as the door closed behind me. I raised my collar and indicated to McGuire with a wave that I intended to walk. I told myself it was because I needed to think—about the funeral, about the many arrangements that still needed to be made to settle my father’s affairs, about my mother—but really, I just needed the time alone, to get my mind off the only woman I’d ever loved, the woman who, more than anyone else, was unreachable to me.
Nineteen
Allie
I told myself I didn’t care if Braden spoke to me at all. I was only there for his mother, after all, not for him. I held Celine’s hand through the church service. She wept a little during the sermon and also when Braden and other people who’d known her husband talked about the admirable man he’d been.
She held herself together until the priest said his words at the cemetery and the coffin slowly lowered into the ground; then she started to shake uncontrollably. I held her hand on one side while from the other, Braden put his hand around her waist and supported her weight.
Later, there was a reception at her home. Braden had arranged everything with Clayton, and the food and arrangements had been set up while we were in the church. He stood with his mother and greeted guests while I hovered in the background. A few people spoke to me, but not Braden; I might as well have been invisible to him.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The older woman dressed in solemn black was a more somber version of Celine. Braden’s aunt Corinne was the opposite of her sister—severe, arrogant, uncompromising, and suspicious. She’d never liked me and made no secret of it.
“Surprise, surprise,” I said drily.
She made a sound in her throat. “I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked. Celine is fond of you. She always had a fondness for the strangest things.” Her eyes went to a picture of Braden’s father now occupying center place on the mantel, and she snorted. “Frankly, I’m surprised his heart didn’t give out sooner. Being married to Celine couldn’t have been easy for a man like him.”
“A man from the wrong side of the tracks, you mean?”
“What could a struggling journalist, a small-town dentist’s son from the boonies have had in common with my sister?”
I closed my eyes. Braden’s father had been an award-winning journalist and bestselling author, yet his achievements had never been enough for this woman whose claim to glory and wealth was a great-grandfather she’d never even known.
“What could your husband have in common with that waitress?” I enquired with a sweet smile, inclining my head toward where her husband was standing much too close to one of the servers. “He just handed her his card—you think he likes young things?”
She glowered at me then stalked toward her husband, whose red face showed he had been overindulging in the bourbon. I sighed and turned away. Celine was now seated on the edge of the sofa, smiling weakly as people came to offer condolences. Braden was standing beside her, glaring daggers at me.
I turned away from the force of his stare. It was clear he didn’t want me there. I’d known he wouldn’t be happy about my presence, but I’d expected some civility at least.
My phone buzzed, and I reached for it, quickly reading the short text from Meredith.
Plane will be on the tarmac at 8.
I sent a quick reply and met Braden’s glare again then turned away and walked toward the windows. He wanted me gone, and soon, I’d be out of his hair. Maybe now I’d finally have the motivation to get my lawyer started on drawing up divorce papers. It would be messy and heartbreaking, but what was the point of acting like our separation would somehow go away if we ignored it for long enough?
I faced the window. It was snowing, and I watched the flurries chase each other on a blanket of white.
Someone came over to stand beside me, and I looked up at one of the more familiar of the famous people who had known Braden’s father.
“Miserable weather, huh.” He smiled at me. Cole Rainer was an award-winning producer, the type who could make or break a career in Hollywood. I wondered if he knew who I was.
“Yes, it is.”
“Big loss,” he continued. “Great guy.”
I’d heard he always spoke like that,
in short, clipped phrases. Famously, he had once given an Oscar acceptance speech in four, two-word sentences.
“He was that,” I said softly.
“How d’you know him?”
I paused. “He was my father-in-law.”
A look of recognition came over his face. “Ah, the actress.”
I gave him a small smile. I didn’t mind that he hadn’t recognized me at first, seeing as I wasn’t there to make contacts.
“Would you excuse me?” I said softly before going over to the sofa where Celine was seated. Braden was no longer standing beside her, so I didn’t have to deal with his glares.
“You’re leaving,” she guessed.
I nodded. “Soon. I have to go back to the hotel and pack.”
She covered my hand with hers. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know what I would have done these past few days without you and Braden.”
I smiled tightly at the sound of his name. “I’m glad I could come.”
After I left her, I went to look for Clayton and found him in the kitchen talking with the caterer.
“Already on your way out?” he asked.
“I have to leave.”
He gave me a sage nod. “I’ll arrange a car for you, and don’t worry about Celine. She’ll be fine with time. Go back to work, but don’t work yourself too hard.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“I’m serious,” he insisted.
“Okay.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek and made my way out to the hall. Thankfully, there wasn’t enough information out in the press about my presence to warrant more than a few photographers lurking across the street.
