“Doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“But you’re warming up to it.”
“I feel slightly less chilly.” I studied the tickets. “These definitely help though.”
“Do you want me to get on my knees? I’ll do it, but you might have to help me off the floor. We might need some type of fulcrum.”
I flicked my hand like the queen that I was. “Kneeling is unnecessary. All is well.”
“Awesome.” She smiled. “To think I’d almost rented out the Louvre for our Paris leg. You’ve saved me a butt load.”
A knock sounded, followed by the unmistakable sound of a key card sliding through the lock. The door opened. “Hey, lass. I’m here to check your vitals.” Kelly stepped in.
Addy’s nose scrunched up. “I thought we agreed once a week is enough.”
“Warren asked we do it every day.” By asked, Kelly meant demanded. He sat a bag on the table and began pulling out various medical equipment.
“He’s not in charge,” Addy said. I stayed silent. So did Kelly. Addy threw up her hands. “Argh, fine. At least let me go pee first.” She waddled off into her bedroom. I sat back and patted my tummy as if I were the pregnant one. I was sporting a very small bump. Too many cheese Danishes. As if there was such a thing.
Addy returned and stuck out a reluctant arm for Kelly to take her blood pressure. “Still a little high,” he murmured. “I don’t like how it’s not coming down. I think we should check in with the doctor.”
Addy’s brows darted in. “I had a whole day planned with Lily. We were going to the Tate Modern and then feasting. Plus, I don’t want that man poking around at my girly bits.”
An OBGYN had been hired to attend to Addy during the tour. Just before we left, she’d reached the point in her pregnancy where cervical checks were necessary. I’d accompanied her to the appointment, since Warren was unavailable interviewing for Rolling Stone magazine. It had not gone well. Addy yelped and though draped with a sheet, I’d seen enough during my doula training to know what was happening. The OB was knee deep, or rather elbow deep, in my best friend. Should’ve bought a girl dinner first. It was unpleasant for the both of us. Come to think of it, I should’ve held out for the Louvre. It was the least Addy could do after subjecting me to that.
“Lily shouldn’t be going anywhere,” Kelly said, feeling for Addy’s pulse. “I just finished a run and there are still paps and fans everywhere.” Despite Addy’s reassurances, the paparazzi were just as bad in London as they were in the US. It was freaky. A veritable sea of screaming fans, both women and men, met us at the London hotel. Police had to shut down the whole street. Local television crews were also present. The news of Lix and me had carried overseas. Women held signs that said things like Lix I’ll carry your baby, Lix marry me instead, Lix I want to rape you.
Yikes.
Crowd-control barriers had been put up, which were really stainless-steel posts with retractable elastic. Like they’d keep the masses at bay. I’d decided to stay in the fancy black SUV. My suitcase was in the trunk. I had my e-reader. All in all, enough to get by. The door opened. Thanks to Warren. He and Addy dived into chaos, his arm anchored protectively around his pregnant wife. They disappeared through the doors of the hotel. The crowd chanted for Warren. Cautiously, I stepped out. No one really wanted a pic of little ol’ me. Wrong. I was so wrong. Camera lights dazzled my eyes. It’s her. Lix’s baby mama. A strong arm wrapped around my waist. Ash pulled my body into his. We ducked our heads and made a dash for the hotel—a move I’d perfected back in Target. Now the gossip sites were alight with speculation that I’d ditched Lix for Ash. They’d spun up a whole tawdry love-triangle thing.
Kelly continued, “In addition, I don’t think Warren wants you going out. The agreement was that you would stay in the hotel and rest unless attending the concerts.”
“Warren. Is. Not. In. Charge,” Addy said through her teeth.
“You’re right, he’s not,” I said, patting Addy’s hand. “But sometimes it’s better to give men the illusion of power.” I was super good at managing pregnant women.
“Well I am in charge of your security detail. I think it’s best if you both stay in,” said Kelly.
It was funny when men tried to tell women what to do. Cute, really. I pretended to consider Kelly’s recommendation. How many seconds should I wait until giving him the bad news? An appropriate amount of time seemed to pass. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I’m going to the Tate Modern.” And I knew just who to bring with me. I was about to ask the man who broke my heart out on a date.
Then
This is how it ended.
Our problems started in Ibiza and followed us around the rest of Europe. Our disconnect grew wider, deeper, by leaps and bounds. I should’ve known. Everything that burns too brightly quickly turns to ash (no pun intended).
I stared at Asher, slack-jawed and stunned. “I’m sorry?” I must have misheard him.
“You heard me.” There was a stubborn set to his jaw. I didn’t like it. We were in Germany. Back where it all started. The headlining band sold out their first show and the record company thought an encore performance was in order. Things had come full circle. Funny how life happens that way. A couple has a baby and their dog dies. The soil freezes and new grass grows. I realize I am deeply, irrevocably in love with Asher Price, and he asks me for an open relationship. Yep, that’s right. No need to clean out your ears ladies and gentlemen. Asher motherfucking Price asked me for a motherfucking fucking open relationship. Also, no need to reread that last sentence, there aren’t any typos, I meant all three of those fucks.
I blinked. Then blinked again. The wetness in my eyes couldn’t possibly be tears. I’d cried too much with Ash. I’d be damned if the next time I wept it was because he made me. Because he’d hurt my feelings. My lips parted. What to say? You made me love you and now you’re stomping on my heart. What kind of cruel joke is this? Self-preservation kicked in. He may have had my heart, but I’d be damned if I’d let him skewer it and cook it up. There’s that pesky pride thing again, the great ruiner of all relationships. I nodded. “You’re right.”
“I am?” He had the decency to look surprised, shocked really.
“Monogamy isn’t natural.” I recalled my parents. The anthropologists. While they’d taught me nothing about love, and how to receive it, they had taught me about other things. “Take bonobos, for example.”
“Bonobos?” The poor man was confused. So was I, but I couldn’t stop the word vomit spewing from my mouth.
“Pan paniscus. They used to be known as pygmy chimpanzees, a moniker to distinguish them from regular chimps. Comparatively speaking, bonobos have longer legs. They also have pink lips, a slightly darker face, and a tail tuft through adulthood.” A ghost of a smile touched my lips. “Their appearance isn’t the only thing that sets them apart from chimps, though. The most striking difference is the status and dominance of females and of course, their sexual behavior. It’s believed they substitute sex for aggression. Therefore, monogamy is impossible, if they’re going to keep the peace.”
“I have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” he said, face incredulous.
I shrugged. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get me. “Forget it.” I stepped closer to him, our toes almost touched. “You want an open relationship. You got it.” The thought of having sex with someone else made me physically ill. The man looked shocked. Stunned, really. Why wasn’t he smiling? Crowing with delight? I was serving up what he wanted, right on a silver platter.
Banging on the door. “Open up, Ash. We need you and your tiny cock to play.” Lix had come to collect the lead guitarist. Ash had a concert that night.
“Give me a minute,” Ash hollered over his shoulder. He turned his attention back to me, opened his mouth.
More banging.
The door handle jiggled.
“Fucker is going to get us kicked out of another hotel.” Ash stepped away and swung open the door. Lix and
his big shoulders filled the doorway. Just behind him, Derren lounged, holding up the wall. The two spent a lot of time together. Addy told me the bassist and drummer shared girls sometimes. Heat suffused my cheeks at the thought.
Lix sniffed upon entering the room and eyed me for a second too long. “It doesn’t smell like sex in here. In fact, it smells like sadness.” The man was far too perceptive. “You okay, Crazy?” He cracked his knuckles. “Need me to show Ashy here how to treat a lady?” Derren smiled. The bearded wonder played it cool, but he liked stirring up shit with the best of them.
Ash pushed Lix back into the hall. “I need a minute.”
“Don’t got a minute,” Derren said, his voice deep and mellow. “Record label says they’re tired of everyone showing up late. We got a six o’clock call time or we get booted.” It was fifteen minutes to.
My ornery guitarist shook his head. “I could give a fuck—”
“You may not care, but War does,” Derren cut in.
Ash’s hands clenched, then unclenched. He stared straight at me, pointed directly at the center of my chest. “We’re not finished talking about this.”
Reaching up, I cupped the back of his neck and urged him down, which was no small feat, considering our size difference. His body was stiff and tense as he bent. Gently, ever so gently, I kissed his lips. I savored the taste because I knew it’d be the last time. “Go.” I deliberately softened my voice so he’d misread it. So he’d hear in the tone and inflection that everything was okay. I released him.
“I’m not kidding, Lil. We’re not done talking about this.” Guess I’d only semi-convinced him. He seemed wild, on edge. Almost desperate.
“Sure,” I agreed. Anything to get him out of the room faster. Mentally I was already packing my bags. Didn’t want to forget anything. Of course, I’d be leaving my heart behind.
The poor man seemed torn: Wild Minds, or the wild child he hooked up with in club restrooms? The success of the band didn’t mean much to Ash. He just wanted to play guitar and do his girl—something he told me often. But it did mean a lot to Warren. And Warren meant a lot to Ash. Vis-a-vis, Wild Minds couldn’t get booted from its current label. This was their last shot. I decided to let him off the hook. “We’ll talk when you get back.” Lie. Big lie. By the time Asher returned, I’d be halfway across the world.
Ash cursed, swiped the hotel key from the nightstand, and went to the door. He gripped the handle, muscles in his arms flexing. “There’s a party after the concert, the label arranged it. I have to make an appearance. I wouldn’t go unless…” His lips thinned.
I smiled. Talk about a brave face. My insides turned to dust. I pointed to the ground. “I won’t leave this spot.”
Lix straightened. All humor left his face. His brows darted in. “Maybe you should come along, Lily.” Yep, way to be perceptive.
“Leave it,” I lashed out. “Please,” I said, softening my tone.
One last long look and Ash stepped into the hallway. The door closed. I crumpled to the ground. Numbly, my fingers dug into the carpet. I thought of everything that had been said, everything that hadn’t been said. Three weeks had passed since our fallout in Ibiza. Twenty days, five hundred and four hours. The words “open relationship” blinked across my mind, a warning light just before complete and utter devastation. Why did he want me to stick around? So he could twist the knife a little deeper? I don’t want you anymore, Lily.
I stood, steeled my spine, hardened my heart. Slowly, I began picking my clothing up from the floor. My motions were robotic as I folded everything and zipped up my suitcase. I knew when the party was over. Usually it ended in a wicked-bad hangover. This time it was so much worse.
I texted Addy. Ash and me had a fight, I typed. I hope you’re feeling better. Her stomach had been hurting for days. I breathed deep, in and out, in and out. There comes a time in every traveler’s life when the road gets weary. Your steps feel heavy. Your bones ache. And you long for somewhere familiar. I wiped my face. Stupid tears. Crying was for suckers. Addy had texted me a question mark, along with a thumbs down. She wanted to know about the fight, and she wasn’t feeling any better. I couldn’t bring myself to write my humiliation in text form.
Asher wants an open relationship.
I’m quietly dying inside.
The first man I ever loved doesn’t love me back.
Instead I chose simpler words. I want to go home. There. Enough said. That should do. And it did. Twenty minutes later Addy texted back. I was just dragging my suitcase out of the hotel room. Maybe I had too many books. No, impossible. One could never have too many books. I want to go home too, she said. We agreed to meet in the lobby. Turns out I wasn’t the only one crumbing. Addy’s marriage to Warren had taken a sharp turn right into shit town. I used my credit card to book us the first tickets home. It cost us a boatload. I’m still paying the interest to this day—a monthly reminder of Ash and all the pain he’d inflicted.
The first calls came just before we boarded the plane in Frankfurt. Our phones rang at the same time. A text lit up my screen.
Asher: Where the fuck are you?
Lily: All good times must end. Going home. Talk soon.
Or never again. I silenced my ringer, then gently uncurled Addy’s fingers from around her cell and turned it off. We nodded at each other. More phone calls came when we landed, but by that time Addy was throwing up and her forehead was so hot you could fry an egg on it. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. I changed my number. Hardened my heart. Willed my soul to be dry earth. My new favorite saying became “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
Fuck Asher Price.
The end.
Now
“Fuck, I’m hungry,” Ash grouched. We’d spent half the day at the Tate Modern, working up quite the appetite. I’d drowned myself in Picassos and Warhols. When we sat down at the Michelin-star restaurant, I was still buzzing with excitement. I grinned ear to ear, bouncing a little in my seat.
Ash gifted me with a rare smile, a half turn of his lips, so fleeting I might’ve missed it. “Christ. You really get off on all this shit, don’t you?”
I unfolded a black cloth napkin and smoothed it over my lap. “I’d rather you didn’t use the word ‘shit’ when referring to art.”
He regarded me through half-lidded eyes. Damn, he was fine. Just sitting across from me, in a worn pair of jeans and simple tee, he oozed sex appeal. Half of the restaurant had been partitioned off for us, allowing a veil of privacy. The other half of the restaurant was packed with diners. Women and men watched Ash. Something he was oblivious to. His magnetism. His raw power. He commanded a room just by being in it. “So did you decide to finally do it?”
“Do what?” I sipped my water.
He leaned in, elbows on the table. With my eyes, I traced the lines of his tattoos: one arm wrapped in Van Gogh’s Starry Night and the other in Klimt’s The Kiss. “Study art history,” he said.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Oh, that. No. Art is still just a hobby. I’m a chemistry major.” Right now. My heart sank in my chest a little at the mention of it. My parents pushed hard for a science major. I’d disappointed them in so many ways, it was the least I could do.
“That what you’re into these days?”
I furrowed my brow. “Sure. It’s pretty easy. I can do it no problem.”
“I didn’t ask if you could do it. I know you can. You’re the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met. I asked if that’s what you’re into.”
Pleasure spread all through me, from my head to my toes. Ash’s opinion still meant something to me. “It’s very practical,” I said.
“Sweetheart,” his tone gentled. “You and me, we’re not the practical type.”
I shrugged. “Everyone has to grow up some time, Ash. You can’t play Peter Pan forever, traveling the world, hooking up with random girls. Asking women for open relationships.” I kept my tone casual.
His nostrils flared. Emotion shone bright in his e
yes. “I was wondering if you were ever going to bring it up.”
I sipped my water.
“We really going to do this here?” he asked.
“Now’s as good a time as any.”
“I know. I fucked up,” he said, voice rough.
I just kind of looked at him.
He gritted his teeth. “You didn’t want to be exclusive.”
“So it’s my fault?” Typical man, always blaming the woman. That was unfair. Ash wasn’t typical. He was unique, special in so many ways. My shine had nothing on his.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “You and me, we weren’t in a good place. I could tell you were getting spooked. So I thought I’d give you the one thing you wanted.” He ground his jaw, muscle ticking in his cheek. “It was all I could think of to keep you.”
My lips parted in surprise. It took me a moment to comprehend his words. What was that saying? If you love something, let it go… “So you asked for an open relationship in some insane bid to hold on to me?”
“I wanted to fix things,” he said. He stared at me. “It’s not what I wanted. The thought of sharing you tears me up inside.” He rubbed his chest as if his actual heart was aching.
“So why ask me in the first place?”
“I wanted you to be happy. If I wasn’t enough…” he trailed off.
Ash asking for an open relationship was an altruistic move. I curled my fingers into the napkin on my lap. “I did want to be exclusive.”
He snorted.
“I did,” I insisted.
A waiter appeared. Introducing himself, he presented us with menus. With a flourish, he poured preselected wine while expressing his delight at being our guide through this groundbreaking and novel dining experience.
“Whatever,” Ash muttered. My foot swung out. “Ow, did you just kick me?”
“Course not,” I huffed.
The waiter appeared embarrassed.
“Real classy girl I got here.” Ash rubbed his leg. Like I could ever hurt him. Please. My smile was pretty and forced. The waiter finished dispensing the wine and moved to leave. “I’ll take the bottle,” Ash instructed. The waiter didn’t hesitate. He left the wine and promised to return with our first course.
Bad Rules_Wild Minds Novel Page 14
