“Yeah, guess he’ll just have to be,” I growl as I wrap myself in Emily.
We get out at Marble Arch station and make our way towards the park. Emily takes a minute to admire the Arch, the splendidly carved stonework, while I take the time to admire her. She’s the real work of art.
She smiles at me before slipping her hand into mine. I say nothing. The sensation is foreign and unfamiliar and she shouldn’t get used to it. But I allow it. This one time.
“It’s beautiful around here,” she says as she keeps looking around.
“You don’t come here often?”
“Between Daryl and his tours and studio visits, I rarely get time to do much of anything.”
“And when you do?”
She shrugs, “I’ve never really liked London very much.”
“Why?”
She looks away at the path ahead and keeps the answer to herself. I let it go, for now. She spots an ice cream van and makes her way towards it. She’s like an excited kid as she reads over the limited menu.
“What can I get you, miss?” An over-enthusiastic kid leans out of the window and ogles her.
She gives him a stunning smile and asks for a strawberry vanilla soft serve. He beams at her till I clear my throat and step a little closer. His smile vanishes. Finally, someone other than Emily who I have that effect on.
“And for you, sir?”
I tighten my grip on Emily's hand. “Do you have any salted caramel?”
She turns to me with question marks in her eyes, “I didn't take you for a salted caramel kind of guy.”
I shrug, “It’s a new flavour I’ve been trying out.”
She beams at me before taking her cone from the now sulking kid. I pay for our ice cream before smirking at him and turning away.
It’s hard not to stare at Emily licking her soft serve. Her tongue leaves long deep furrows in the whipped desert as the two flavours slowly melt into one.
I rip my eyes away and concentrate on my own cone as we walk along in silence for a while.
When we find ourselves near the water I find a bench and sit, she follows me and tucks herself close. I’m not sure why I don't move away.
“You know your way around here.” It’s a statement that sounds like a question. So I give her what she wants.
“We used to come here all the time in summer when we were kids.”
“We?”
“Me, Red, and Wolf. We used to walk along the Serpentine and eat ice cream and help ourselves to a few unattended purses.”
Her head lifts to mine, her mouth slightly open and her eyes large.
“What? We were kids, we were hungry, and we wanted ice cream.” I wink at her and she relaxes again as I nudge my large frame into her much smaller one.
“Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun.”
“We did. I wanted to give Red a childhood that was more than waiting for me at home alone while I worked, and a half-filled belly.”
“It sounds like you did a great job.”
I shrug. “What were you like as a kid?”
“I was happy sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
She bites into her cone and a drop of ice cream coats the rim of her lips. Without thinking I lift my hand to her mouth and wipe it away. My thumb brushes over her lower lip and drags it slowly. Her eyes latch onto mine and I lift her chin before my lips brush hers and my tongue swipes away at the remnants of the flavour left by her desert. The kiss is gentle, full of tenderness, intoxicating and all wrong. I pull away and try to regain myself.
I clear my throat wondering what the hell that was, before turning back to the water. “What does sometimes mean?”
“What?” She blinks at me a few times as if seeing me for the first time that day.
“You said you were happy sometimes.”
Her smile drops a little and she scoops the rest of the ice cream into her mouth. “No one is happy all the time.”
She’s diverting again but this time I don’t want to let it go. “Emily.” My voice is firm enough to let her know what I’m asking.
She sighs and her mouth twists a little. “I was happy with my mom. She was my best friend, for a long time my only friend. As I said, my dad wasn’t around. His idea of parenting was to send presents and money and not to be present at all.”
She draws in a small breath before continuing, “My mom always stood up for him and said it was his work that kept him away. But at night, I’d sometimes hear them talk and her cry and beg him to come back, and how everything was already broken so why bother hiding it. I didn’t really know what any of it meant, not till much later when it was too late anyway.”
“What happened to being tragically in love?”
“That was their tragedy; she was utterly, devastatingly and tragically in love with him but he loved her from afar, putting his career and friendship before us. By the time he realised that we should have been his priority all along she was gone.”
“How?”
Her beautiful eyes swell with tears and I feel her pain, it's palpable and raw. “Drunk driver. Wrong place at the wrong time. Her head injuries were too devastating, and she never recovered.”
She wipes the unshed tears from her eyes and I pull her into me, wanting to shelter her from all that pain, knowing I never can.
“Is that why you don't like it here?”
She shrugs against me, “Too much pain in such a big city, I can’t seem to get away from it anywhere.”
“Pain always clings to us harder than happiness. It colours our world in darker hues and shades. It teaches us more, even lessons we’re not ready to learn.” It’s a harsh truth I’d had to learn.
We sit in silence for a short while taking in the sunshine and the world around us before I stand up and lead us through the park.
“How long have you been singing?” I break our silence as we near the edge of the park.
“All my life.”
“So, what’s the real reason you haven’t pursued it?”
“I have.”
“Sure,” I say and hate the way it sounds coming out of my mouth.
She pouts for a second before she starts speaking, “Bearing your soul on stage makes you very vulnerable. It's the kind of nakedness you share with the world. Maybe I just haven't been ready.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know. I guess there’s never an ideal time for anything. But if I don't try now, if I don't chase what I want, I’ll let it slip through my fingers and live with that regret.”
I nod. Regret is like a snow globe—a whole other moment in time caught forever inside a bubble. You can shake it up and look at it from every angle you want, but in the end, the flakes just settle back into place and nothing has changed. It sits on a shelf, gathering dust and reminds you of what could have been.
14
Emily
Tonight is the night.
I look in the mirror and promise myself - just like I’ve been promising myself every day for the last few days. I’m going to tell him. Hunter has been coming into my room night after night and since our outing to Hyde Park, our days have been spent trading smiles and hidden glances. His long, languishing kisses and hot body make me burn before I fall asleep in his strong arms. But I need to know if this is heading anywhere and what he wants, especially after this morning. I’m still breathless thinking about it.
The kitchen is empty and I find myself flicking looks over to the doorway looking for his shadow knowing it won't be there. Despite our nights together and whispered conversations I’ve stood my ground. He can get in my pants but not in the house, not during his shifts anyway.
The day feels longer than usual. Despite our late departure and Daryl’s session in the studio, through all my phone calls to venues and ticket agencies, the clock doesn't want to move. Time stretches like a water drop on the end of a tap.
I can’t help but steal looks at Hunter. The way his t-shirt strains with every movement of hi
s biceps, his messy blonde hair, his razor-sharp jaw, ghosted smiles and silly poses he throws my way every time he catches me out. They make my heart stampede in my chest and run through the rest of my body.
When we finally arrive back at the house, I can barely digest my dinner and make a hasty return to my room. My heart skitters and my stomach coils with a thousand unspoken words that need to burst out of me. I draw in a long breath and snatch another look at my clock. His shift will be over soon.
The heat stifles me, and the walls threaten to close in. No matter what I do, I can't shake this feeling. Like being hooked up to an electric fence set to low voltage, I know it won’t kill me but it's uncomfortable as hell. I need to get out of my head and out of this room.
The knock startles me even though I'm expecting it, making my heart rate surge. I open the door and it stops beating completely when I find him there. Like every other night he’s shown up at my door, he’s there leaning on the door frame a sly smile across his face, his eyes sparkle.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says in his playful tone.
“It’s you who seem to keep showing up?”
“What can I say, I have to check the place out, you know, security stuff? And this room happened to have the sweetest piece of ass in it.” My heart cramps. Just my ass?
“It’s not the only thing sweet about me.” I shake it off and smirk.
“Oh yes, baby, I know.” He pushes the door open and kisses me hard before pulling away and studying my face.
I graze his bruised lips with mine and a smile spreads across his beautiful face. A face to fall in love with, and I have. Hard and deep and inexplicably so. My heart skitters as I brush my fingers across his jaw, letting the bristles rasp against my fingers and take a steeling breath. My whole body shakes, as fear tries to grip me, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Mm-hmm,” he purrs as those hot lips brush my neck and he pushes me onto the bed flipping us over so that he can grind my hips into his.
“What’s this thing between us?”
“My cock?” His eyebrows wiggle and a brash smile spreads across his face.
I chew on my lip and try again, “No Hunter. What are we doing?”
His body stiffens for a second and his mouth leaves my body. “Why does it matter? Why do we have to define it?”
“I just…” my heart pounds against my rib cage, my pulse surges.
His lips find my neck again and he grazes my skin with his teeth, “We’re having fun, don’t spoil it by turning it into something it’s not.” My heart twists and sinks as he kisses lower down. “I’m just here for you until the real thing comes along.”
“The real thing?” My eyes burn with tears.
His lips trace my collar bone, “That thing other people call love.”
My heart lurches, wrecking my hollowing chest and I suck in a deep breath wiping away my unshed tears. “You still don't believe in love?”
He kisses my chest, “Just something people like you say.”
“People like me?”
“Romantics, poets—desperate, empty people who think that word will fill them with something that isn’t really there.”
“And trap you?” I finish for him and feel him smile against my skin before he purrs a yes and wraps his hot mouth around my nipple. My body reacts even as it falls apart on the inside.
“But love exists.” I persist, though I don't know why.
“Fleetingly.” His tongue flicks my nipple.
I sink my hands into his hair. I want his attention, but he’s focused elsewhere and I don't want to lose my train of thought. “It has to exist.”
“Why? Why are you so certain it exists? Why does it have to be more than a few chemicals in the brain playing tricks?”
“Wow.” I push his head away, and at last he looks at me, confusion marring his face.
“Is the truth too harsh?”
“You just don't have to—"
“What? State facts?”
“Love is more than just chemicals.”
“Love is lust in disguise. It’s just two people wanting to get in each other’s pants until that feeling is over and then they find their next ‘love interest’.”
“People are more than skin deep. Of course, there is an initial attraction that’s physical, but people have other endearing qualities that make them beautiful. That makes you want to stay and spend time with them. Endlessly.”
“Or the guy just knows it's a sure thing and he can get what he wants.”
“Wow.” I move a little farther away from him.
“Where is all this coming from?” He leans on his elbow, his half-naked body on display and I take it all in, wondering if it’s the last time I’ll ever see it.
“So, you don't believe people can fall in love forever? That the children they have together and the life they build is anything more than a phase? A chemical imbalance that lasts too long?”
“It’s all a concept designed to trap us into something unnatural.”
“So, love and children are just traps?”
He falls onto his back, the hard on he had moments ago shrinking, and he runs his hands over his face. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Emily, you knew how I feel about all this. We’ve talked about this before.”
I nod.
Something changes in his face, and his eyes darken, “The fact is, that not everyone stays. Not if they feel trapped, forced into something they don’t want to be a part of. Children don't always keep people together. It’s not fair on the children who get abandoned.” His tone strikes a chord in my heart.
“Just because it happened to you—”
“Don’t,” he hisses.
“Is that why you’re so angry? Is that why you think love doesn’t exist?”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now. You know how I feel. My parents should have never had us. They were obviously more “in love” with the idea of the notion than actually wanting it. Love is a made-up concept to disguise the fact that two people want each other, and when they grow old and bitter, they wonder why they stayed.” He lifts me up and rolls away, his eyes shimmering in the dim lights, “Look at your own family.”
I purse my lips and tears prickle my eyes.
“Emily, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that last bit. What’s this really about?” His voice softens as he looks at me intently.
My body knots and strangles like a constrictor is wrapping itself around me and squeezing out all my bravery. It's pointless. I shake my head, “Nothing, let's just get some sleep.”
He huffs as he rolls onto his side facing away from me, and my heart shatters inside me.
Did I really think he would change, for me? I keep waiting for him to roll back over, to face me, to erase all his harsh words. But he doesn’t. He lays there motionless, but I can tell he isn't asleep. His body is stiff and rigid. He obviously didn't come here to sleep.
I listen to his breathing. His body tangled with mine feels perfect, and yet, I know what I need to do.
As soon as I detach myself from him, my chest squeezes like my heart forgets how to beat and the heat evaporates off my skin.
But I have to leave, I have to go. He thinks of himself as a placemat for the real thing, unaware that for me, he could have been. A shiver wracks through my body and everything hurts. He never saw how much I love him, how much I want him, how much he means to me; but then again, he never wanted me in the way I wanted him, never so fierce and hungry—I was convenient, I was here, he didn’t have to go far to find what he wanted. While here I was, dying on the inside knowing he could have been the one to hold my heart forever. Though I have no right feeling any of this.
I get dressed silently, my stomach turning in revolt. I ignore the ache in my chest, the way my heart feels like it's getting hacked at with a machete. I grab my bag, stuffing it with a few necessities. I'll have everything I need when I go home. Home—not my home.
I sigh as I walk toward the door.
I feel like a boat stranded in the middle of a big tumultuous sea pulling the anchor up and drifting away from safety, from Hunter. But then again, maybe he is the storm that's going to wreck me.
Maybe he already has.
Maybe he was right all along—pain is so much purer, more vicious, and forceful than our happiness ever was. With an angry wave and scathing words, he’s washed it all away.
But I'm not going to whimper and cry and break, not in front of him. Later in the safety of the dark, where I can dissolve into the shadows. Now I’m going to get up and do what has to be done.
Hunter
I wake up to insistent buzzing and a cold bed. I search around for Emily’s body that’s usually curled up against me, only to find empty space. I reach over to the bedstand and find the buzzing. My phone.
I bolt up. Shit. It's well after nine. Why the hell didn’t Emily wake me up?
“Hello?” My voice cracks into the phone.
“Where are you, man? It’s after nine.” James the night shift guy sounds pissed.
“Yeah. I'll be there in ten.” I hang up and rush from the bed and into the en-suite. I throw some water over my face and go for my morning piss. I’m shaking off when I see it, and everything inside me seizes.
No.
I tuck myself into my boxers and reach over grabbing the box. First Response Pregnancy Test. What the fuck? Surely not? I was careful. We were careful. Weren’t we? I feel the blood drain from my face as I open the bin and search. I find the test and glare at the pink plus sign in the middle of the plastic stick.
My knees wobble.
No.
She’s pregnant?
Is that what last night was all about?
“Fuck” I swear at the room and plunge my fingers into my hair, digging my hands into my scalp as they rake through. The next few minutes go by as if I’m in slow motion. A slew of thoughts smash through me.
Is she ok? What does she want to do? Does she want to keep it? Do I? Am I ready for this? Are we?
Hunter (The Fractured Fairytale Series) Page 13
