by Emily Bishop
I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of Isabella. Of my future without her. I didn’t even have any motivation to find a new woman to fool Mr. Fink with. The whole thing felt empty and fake and ridiculous. That’s one thing that felt the same as always. The whole aristocratic thing, the duke title, the big house, all of that. It still felt ridiculous. Not relevant to life. But now nothing at all felt relevant.
In the early hours of the night, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The sound of the TV buzzing along in the background was infuriating. I punched the off button on the remote and drowned in the silence. Isabella kept floating into my mind. Not in a sexual way, really. But in all the other ways. What my life would be like with her. What it would be like without her.
I imagined us cashing our check. How happy she’d be. The pure joy that would spread all over her face. She’d finally be able to save her father’s business. I’d have millions upon millions in my account. But I wouldn’t jet off to Dubai for a yacht and a thousand beautiful women. I wouldn’t whizz off to Monaco and blow thousands in a casino, as I’d planned. I wouldn’t head for the nearest Bentley dealership and wow them all with my cash purchase. No.
Isabella and I would get on an airplane back here, back to Seattle. We’d work together on restoring her business. I’d learn about business. Once her business was thriving, we’d turn our attention to our angel-investing company. We’d find meaningful businesses like hers. Businesses where people are trying to protect a legacy, or independents trying to stand up to huge mega-corporations. Businesses where the owners really believe in what they’re doing. And we’d be like angels swooping down from heaven with bags stuffed full of cash. The joy on their faces. I could just picture it. Then their business would become our next success story. How cool would that be? I know Isabella would just love that, too.
But she doesn’t want me around. I have to face that fact. Even though it feels like a stake being speared into my heart, I have to accept it. She’s not going to respond to charm. She’s not going to respond to domination. She’s not going to respond to anything at all. It hurts like hell.
As I was staring up at the ceiling, something happened that hadn’t happened in a long time. A very long time. My mouth opened, and from somewhere deep inside me, a wail escaped. A deep, distressed cry. No tears. A wail. The sound of my deepest, darkest pain. The pain of being sent away. The pain of being unwanted. The last time this happened was the night my father told me he was sending me away. In the mansion, in my bedroom, staring up at the ceiling in just the same way as a twelve-year-old boy. Wailing into the night. Wailing into that unfriendly, hostile, cold manor house. That house was only ever home in fleeting moments, when Mother would escape from Father’s clutches and tell me nice things and draw me into warm hugs. She always smelled of sweet tea and expensive perfume and the dust of the library. She loved to read. In the hotel room, the wail escaped out of me and curled its dark tentacles into the air around me.
It’s the same situation. I’m going into a new life I don’t want. Then, it was a life away from my mother, from my cousin, from the familiarity of England. The arrogant, cheeky Grayson Fairfax II grew out of that unwantedness. It was my means to survive. How many times I’d be laughing when I felt like crying inside. How many times I’d be pushing a girl who I had led on away, when I really wanted to say, “I’m so sorry I did this to you. I don’t understand why I do it.”
I wonder what new character this new unwanted life will bring out in me. The arrogant, confident, rule-the-world Grayson Fairfax II just isn’t cutting it anymore. I could see a new Gray emerging when I was with Isabella. Or perhaps it was an old Gray. A very old Gray. Before the days of boarding school. The innocent boy, but now grown into a principled young man who holds his values and wants to make a difference in the world. But without Isabella, I know that man is going to wither away. I dread what I’m going to become.
I don’t know when I fell asleep. Nightmares merged in with my thoughts, and I thrashed and called out all night. The next day I felt like a zombie, halfway between life and death. I stayed in the hotel room all day with the curtains drawn. I ordered a lasagna like Isabella liked but didn’t touch it. I expected to have another night of nightmares.
But when I awaken, I feel like I’ve been touched by an angel. Now everything feels softer again. Magical, even. The world seems pregnant with possibility. Like something that was closed has opened up. I sit bolt upright in bed. Yes! I glance at the clock. It’s 3:33 a.m.
Before I can talk myself out of my idea, I call Eddie.
“Jeez, Gray, what time is it over there?” Eddie sounds pissed. He doesn’t talk to me the same way he used to.
“Three thirty-three,” I say. “Three thirty-four now.”
He sighs. “Are you in a police cell or something?”
“No, no.” I laugh, for the first time in days. “I have this wonderful idea. You see, Isabella, she’s really pissed with me. There’s something I want to do. Something I have to do. Now, I don’t like doing this. But I’m going to have to borrow a little more money. A couple thousand dollars.”
“You don’t like doing this?” His voice has an edge as sharp as a knife. “Hasn’t stopped you from doing it continuously for the past however long. Ten years?”
“That’s going to stop,” I say decisively. “And you know I’m going to drop a lot of mills on you, bro. As soon as the inheritance comes through.”
“You’d better make sure you get it,” he says. “For your sake. You remember it’s all going to me if you can’t get your act together? Well, let me tell you something, I won’t be buying you Bentleys and yachts out of that money. It’s getting a little boring, your whole helpless-guy-who-can’t-make-money act. I work pretty hard on all this FX trading, you know.”
“You’re right,” I say. Before, I would have exploded and probably cursed him out. “I haven’t done a day’s proper work in my life. But that’s all about to change. Trust me.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“I know you don’t believe me. But I’m going to prove it. My life isn’t going to be the same anymore, bro. It can’t be. It was too empty. Devoid of meaning.”
“I don’t know anything about that ‘meaning’ crap,” Eddie says. “But it was certainly devoid of hard work or any kind of responsibility.”
His tone is a slap in the face. I never knew he thought any of this about me. “But we had a good time, didn’t we?”
I hear a smile creep into his voice. “Of course, we did. Gray and Eddie, the masters of a good time. A drunk time. A get-all-the-girls time. But I have another life that you don’t. I have my work. I can provide for myself.”
“You’re right.” I feel something constrict in my throat. “I have a plan for the money. I’m going to change my life.”
“Yeah, but remember when you said that a few years ago? After you trashed the hotel suite at Claridges? You swore blind to your father you were going to change your life. And nothing happened.”
“I didn’t mean it then,” Gray said. “I meant it the tiniest bit. But I said it mostly just to shut Father up. I always knew I would go back to causing mayhem.”
His voice tightens. “So, why should anyone believe you this time?”
I pause. “I guess I can only prove it to you.”
“If you buy something crazy with this money, I swear I’m going to wring your neck.”
“I won’t, trust me. This will be the best thing I’ve ever spent money on. Something I’ve kind of wanted to do for a long time but didn’t know how.”
“Oh god, you’re going to go skydiving, aren’t you?”
“No!” He’s starting to get on my nerves now. But I only have my past self to blame. “I’m doing something for Isabella.”
“Taking her skydiving and proposing to her mid-air?” Eddie chuckles, almost sounding like his normal self.
“Nothing to do with skydiving!” I reply with a laugh.
“So, what i
s it?”
For some reason, I want to keep it a secret. I open my mouth to tell him then shut it again. “I’ll send you pics after the fact.”
He laughs smuttily. It sends the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
“Not those kind of pictures,” I say.
“All right, whatever you say,” he says, mischief in his voice. “But don’t forget your boy. And once your fake engagement crap is over, I’ll be making a move on her. Is she a good fuck?”
It’s like my blood’s running cold. “You won’t be making any move on her.”
“Oh, shit!” he says, with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re actually catching feelings now. The notorious Ditch-Them Duke has fallen in the trap every man tries to avoid. Didn’t you learn from the whole Lilly fiasco?”
This is so weird. Normally when I speak to Eddie, I feel cheeky and strong and like we can conquer the world together. Now I feel drained. I was full of energy at the beginning of the call. Full of excitement. Now I’m like a deflated balloon.
“So, will you transfer the money?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s not like it’s all that much,” he says casually. I think he’s trying to make me feel small.
“Cool, bro,” I say. “Thanks for that.”
I hang up, feeling confused. But I try to focus on the future. All I need is the money. The next few days are going to be the best of my life, and I’m going to focus all my attention on something I’ve never really thought of before—doing something really nice for someone else.
Chapter 28
Isabella
DAY 25
I can’t lie. I thought each day without Gray would get easier and easier. I had to tell Natalie in the end. Every day pressure was building and building and building, until it was all going to burst out. I had a little cry in the privacy of our office. Natalie said it would be better to get it all out—I’d feel better about moving on once I’d mourned.
But I didn’t feel better. I felt worse. And every day since then has been more and more difficult. This morning, I didn’t even feel like dragging myself out of bed. I didn’t want to face my employees and customers in the hospital. They’re starting to get restless now, and the unhappier they get, the more they feel litigious. I wanted to throw my quilt over my head and forget the world exists. I wanted to regress to childhood and have a sick day, doing nothing except watching cartoons all day.
But that’s not the real world. I have responsibilities. I have to be a strong, confident, capable, independent woman, even when I don’t feel like it. That’s life. So, I pulled myself out of bed and washed and dressed.
Now I’m at the entrance to the hospital. Anxiety flutters about in my stomach like some huge malevolent moths have found their way into my belly and want to torture me.
I put on my confident face and walk in. No one would have any idea how nervous I am. How full of dread and sadness I am. I’ve become an expert at hiding it all these years. Most of the time I’m fine, if a little unfulfilled. I push my feelings to the side. Sometimes they overwhelm me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But no one knows about it. After a quick cry in the bathroom, I always return with freshly-made-up eyes and a smile plastered on. You have to soldier through life. My father always had a smile for me, even when his business was sinking. I had no idea. He didn’t want to burden me with his problems, and I don’t want to burden anyone with mine, either. Tears prick my eyes when I think of him. I miss him so much.
As I ride the elevator up, I think about what he’d tell me about Gray. At first, he has this harsh, stern voice, telling me that Gray is no good and will never be any good. He’s not good enough for his precious daughter. But my heart sinks. I know I’m making it all up. I’m just telling myself that to make it seem easier.
In reality, I know what he would say. I can feel my father’s presence so strongly in that elevator, it almost feels like he’s standing right next to me. I can practically see his soft gray hair, his crumpled linen suit. His eyes are blue like mine. But where mine are almost always intense, with the Ice Queen look Gray loves to berate me about, my dad’s were soft, with little gold flecks in them. Like cornflower fields bathed in the golden light of sunset.
I can almost hear what he’d say. He’s a good man at heart. Give him a chance. No one’s perfect, sweetheart. When I hear the “sweetheart,” or rather feel it, my heart does a sad implosion. I miss him so much. You deserve to find true love.
But he’s not my ideal man.
You and I both know that doesn’t matter. I feel my father so strongly. I hear his gentle voice so clearly. He’s what life has brought to you. And he loves you. Truly loves you.
No, he doesn’t.
My dad doesn’t even reply to that. Just gives me this knowing look that makes me burst into tears. The elevator door opens, and I’m sobbing. I try to pull myself together as I step out, but it’s too late. Sandra’s walking down the corridor. She’s my employee. I have to keep it together.
She stops and frowns at me, concerned. “Isabella, is everything all right?”
I can’t help it. The tears pour out of me again with a little sob.
“Oh, honey.” Sandra pulls me into a hug and even strokes my hair. “Honey, honey. None of this was your fault. I know you’ve been so worried about this, but it was really was just an unfortunate accident. Everyone in the company knows how meticulous you are. You wouldn’t have left anything to chance. There’s no way you’d be negligent. Please, forgive yourself. We’ve all forgiven you.” That makes me cry even harder. I’m a mess, blubbering into her shoulder. She strokes my hair. “There, there,” she says, just like a caring mother. “Try not to be so hard on yourself.”
I pull out of the hug and wipe my eyes. “I’m always hard on myself.”
“I know, honey. I know. I’m not exactly Mother Theresa to myself. I know what kind of person you are, because I’m the same. We’re so busy taking care of everyone and everything, we forget to take care of ourselves and be gentle with ourselves.”
I nod tearfully. I feel like a little girl.
She gives me a lovely smile and wipes a stray tear away with her thumb. “It must have taken you so long to select all the gifts for us. That was sweet of you. I want to do the same for you when you’re better. You deserve to have someone do something nice for you.”
“Gifts?” I’m thoroughly confused.
Sandra sighs. “Don’t tell me you’re so modest and self-deprecating that you’re going to pretend they were delivered by Santa. Or the Easter Bunny.”
Huh? “Seriously, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sandra frowns with confusion. “Then where did they come from?”
“What? I’m so confused.”
“Go to the burn unit. You’ll see. I’m headed to the bathroom.” She gives me a little pat on the arm. “Hold on, honey. Things will get easier.”
“Thank you, Sandra, I really hope so.” I give her a quick little hug then find a smile. “I’m going to see what these gifts are all about.”
I hurry along the corridor into the burn unit and gasp in delight as I open the door. The whole place is beautiful. Every table is covered with goodies. Huge flower arrangements blossom from every corner of the room. Boxes of chocolates. Plush toys. Box sets of books. Box sets of DVDs. Huge gift baskets of wine and what looks like bars of chocolate and jars, probably of expensive condiments. The place is bright with color. It looks like Christmas morning. The only thing missing is a Christmas tree. Happy low-level chatter fills the place, and someone has an old movie on their TV. It’s all too cozy for words.
“What on earth?” I whisper.
“Hey, Isabella!” Melody calls out. She’s fully made up, complete with contouring and those thick eyebrows that all the young girls seem to covet right now. “Thank you so much for all of this!”
“But I…” This is just too weird.
Then Gray steps out from behind one of the curtains. His intense dark eyes lock o
nto mine, alive with joy. He smiles, a wide, genuine, beautiful smile. I can’t help but smile back, and he comes over to me.
“Did you work this magic?” I ask.
“You’re the magic one.” I can tell he wants to hug me but holds back.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I look around the unit and feel so overwhelmed. Everyone looks to be enjoying themselves. Even Melody’s mother, who is reading a book and eating chocolates from an expensive box beside her. “I don’t know how to say thank you enough.”
He grins and puts his arms around my waist. “May I?”
I nod.
“You could kiss me,” he whispers.
“In front of all these people?” I whisper back.
He grins cheekily. “They all love me.”
I give him a playful slap. “Oh, because everyone loves the charmer Grayson Fairfax.”
“Not the charmer,” he says. “Not the charmer, at all. This is me. Me, me, me, all me. No manipulation. No agenda.”
I feel so relaxed with him it surprises me. “No agenda? No agenda at all?” I tease.
“All right.” He grins sheepishly. “A little bit of an agenda. Trying to get you back. Trying to show you how much I love you, truly. You make me a better person. I’m sure you were fine in the days we have been apart, but it was killing me. Life feels so empty without you.”
Tears fill my eyes. Tears of joy. “I wasn’t fine. Not at all.” I give him a gentle punch on the arm. “Why did you do this to me?”
“Do what to you?”
I whisper. “Make me love you.”
“You dirty hypocrite,” he says with a grin.
“What?”
“You can’t complain. You’ve done the same to me.”
Then he leans in and kisses me. I forget the hospital and everyone in it. I kiss him back. It’s a soft kiss, our lips teasing each other with gentle touches.
