by JA Huss
"Trust the Future."
"Yeah," I say, smiling. "That was it. That was the name of the charity. And you looked so freaking happy in that photo. I thought to myself, now that man might make me want to marry. And then I went looking for more information and I found a video of that day. You were playing X-Box with those kids. Some violent shooter game that most parents would throw a fit over. But you looked like you were having the best time. You looked real that day."
"I love kids."
"I can tell."
"I want a shitload of kids," he says, almost wistfully.
"Is that your dream? Marriage and children?"
He nods slowly, pressing his lips together, probably expecting me to object since I told him I was not interested in marriage. But I don’t. It’s not my place to stomp on his dream.
"I just don’t get it, Grace. If you want the prince, why don’t you want the marriage?"
I take another gulp of margarita and finish it off. "Because," I say, picking up my menu. I’m not hungry anymore but I need something to do with my hands. "Because regardless of what you think, I realize there are no princes, Vaughn. And you’re right, it was unfair of me to expect you to be perfect." I stare at him. Hard. My eyes are narrowing, I just know it. Because it sucks to admit I’ve been foolish for all these years. Looking for a phantom man who will spoil any good relationship I ever have because my expectations are too high.
He studies me for a moment and again, I find myself squirming under his scrutiny.
Can he see through me? "Excuse me?" I stop our waitress as she passes by. "Can I get another margarita?"
"That’s not why, Grace."
Jesus. I need that drink. "Of course that’s why. I think I know my own reasons."
He’s shaking his head as I defend myself. "You don’t want to marry because then you might have to actually be happy."
"What? Seriously, Asher. You’re totally wrong. I was—I am—a very happy woman. I was socially complete before I met you, believe it or not. I realize I’ve been all over the place emotionally since the island. But that’s not me. I’m happy, and well-adjusted, and, and, and happy."
Fuck.
"But that was the fantasy, right? The fantasy made you happy. This is reality and you’re lost in reality."
"Why are we talking about me? The deal was that we talk about you."
“What do you want to know? Ask me anything."
But nothing seems safe. Everything feels like a trap that will throw me backwards into the past. That will unravel all the raveling I’ve done over the past ten years and leave me frayed and filled with holes.
"I want to get married," he says. "And I don’t need her to be a princess, Grace. I just need her to love me for who I really am. And then I want a bunch of kids. And I want them to have the perfect childhood filled with jumping in puddles, and playing in mud, and bad grades because their personalities require them to rebel and be themselves. I want school plays and coaching football, and standing out in the rain to watch a track meet. I want to bring my wife breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day and I want to receive handmade gifts of painted macaroni from my three-year-old."
I just stare at him.
"I want normal. I lived the fantasy and it’s not as perfect as it seems."
I have no idea what to say, but luckily, the waitress brings my drink. So I take a really long sip and then set it down on the table and stare at it.
"What do you think of all that, Grace?"
"I think…" I look up at him. My eyes are watery from the alcohol or maybe from the serious conversation that makes me think of my own childhood. "I think I’d like to give the fantasy a try first."
"Take it for a test drive?"
"Yes. Just to see what it’s like."
"You need to be able to compare?"
I nod.
"Because you’ve lived normal and it’s not as perfect as it seems?"
"Yes."
"Come upstairs with me, Grace. And let me give you a free sample."
I huff out a laugh. "Does it come with spankings?" I try and joke to break the seriousness of his offer.
"No," he says, shaking his head slowly. "No, the fantasy doesn’t come with spankings. It comes with gentle, tender lovemaking. And flowers and chocolate-covered strawberries. Soft sheets, and softer music. No dirty talking or blindfolds or sexy lingerie."
"Sounds pretty boring."
"Mmmm. It is. Come upstairs and let me show you how boring."
And then he stands up and comes around to pull my chair out. I stand up and he hooks my arm in his. "Grand Lakeview Suite," he tells the waitress as we walk out. "Bill it to the room."
Chapter Ten
"I CAN be romantic," I tell Grace as I open the door to my suite and flatten my hand on the small of her back. "But everyone’s definition of romance is different." I close the door and watch her as she moves forward through the foyer and into the large room.
"Nice view," she says in a low voice.
"Yes, I always enjoy a room with a view. And doesn’t everyone want to see the Bellagio fountain when they come to Las Vegas?” She just shrugs. “Sit, Grace. I’ll be right back with a drink."
"I’ll have a margarita," she calls out as I retreat back to the foyer and call the butler service using the control panel by the door. I meet him outside in the hall and give him my requests, then go back inside. Grace is standing at the windows, her back to me.
“Tonight is not a night for margaritas. Do you like pink champagne, Grace?"
She turns and smiles. "Doesn’t everyone?"
I take her in as I approach. Her dress, for being something she wears regularly to work, is a beautiful dark blue that hugs her curves and makes me crazy. Her hair is still piled up on her head, but there are long spiraling strands that have fallen out. They frame her face, making her look just the tiniest bit unkempt.
I love that. I love that her oh-so-together persona has a crack in it.
Her face is flushed pink. Maybe from the alcohol or maybe from being alone with me. Her skin is glowing in the low lights and she looks like a vision of perfection one might only see behind the lens of a specially filtered camera.
"You are the most beautiful woman, Grace."
"I might be drunk."
I smile wide as I walk up to the bar and check the refrigerator for some champagne. Inside is a selection they stock based on my personal preferences. "Do you want to skip the champagne?" I ask her as I pull out two crystal flutes.
She walks over to me, her shoes clicking lightly on the marble floor. "No, I might need more than usual."
"You can’t be around me unless you’re drunk?" I ask with a smile as I pop the cork on the bottle and pour.
"It helps me keep things in perspective. And when I wake up tomorrow I’ll have a reason to push this night away and forget it ever happened."
I stop pouring and just look at her. "What?"
"You want to dominate me, right? I don’t want to admit I want to give in. So a few more drinks will give us both what we want, but in the morning I can justify my behavior. Blame it on too much alcohol."
I shake my head. "No more drinks for you then." She laughs but I’m serious. "I’m not on some conquest, Grace. That’s not what this is about."
She joins me behind the bar, reaches past me, and grabs a champagne glass. She lifts the pink bubbly to her lips and takes a delicate sip. "Mmmm. This is good, what is it?"
"Billecart-Salmon Brut Rose 2002. It’s one of my favorites."
She takes another sip and licks her lips. "I like it. If I stay and have sex with you, will you spank me?"
My smile is tight. She’s got the wrong idea and I don’t know how to change that. I’ve set our relationship up this way, after all. I’m the one who gave her all these preconceptions. Preconceptions I’m desperate to change right now.
I grab my champagne and put my hand on her back, once again guiding her into the main part of the room. "Come, tell me what you think of
the view."
"I’d rather talk about what you plan on doing to me tonight, actually." She takes a long sip from her glass, finishing it, and then setting it down on a table as we make our way to the window.
I sigh with frustration. "I want to talk to you, Grace. I want to apologize for what you saw on TV today. It’s a lie. It’s like you witnessing me comforting my sister back on her wedding night. It’s not what you think. And I don’t want to be judged by that woman’s accusations. At least…" I set my glass down and then cup her face in my hands. "At least not by you. I could care less what the world thinks, but please, don’t let that woman’s bitter revenge taint what I’m trying to do here."
“Why is she bitter, Vaughn?" Grace’s jaw clenches and her lips form a tight line. "What did you do to her?"
"Nothing." I laugh, a little bit uncomfortable. "I mean, I fucked her a while back. Six months ago. And I did see her on the island a few weeks ago, but I made it very clear that I was done with her. We did not sleep together on the island. I just dismissed her and gave her thirty thousand dollars so she could move on."
"Thirty thousand dollars?” Grace asks. "You mean like the thirty thousand dollars you put into my bank account? Holy shit!"
"It’s not the same—"
"How is it different, Asher? Jesus fucking Christ! Is that your standard payment to keep people quiet?" She turns and slaps me in the face. Hard.
I just stand there. Stunned.
"You’re a pig, Vaughn. I can’t… I just can’t—"
She pushes past me, making a move to flee, but I grab her wrist and pull her back. "Stop for a minute. OK?"
"Why? Every minutes that passes you get worse, Vaughn. Everything I thought was the real you, it’s all fake. It’s all pretend. It’s all—”
I lean down and kiss her angry mouth. She pulls back and I let her, but I wrap my hands around her waist and press her hips to my groin, keeping her close at the same time. “Stop now. I heard you downstairs. I get it, I’m a dick. But I’m trying my best, Grace. I’m trying my fucking best to change that opinion you have of me. I’m sorry we started this relationship the way we did. I’d like to start again. So just be quiet and let it happen. Forget about the past. Forget about the money. Forget about the spankings and all that other shit. And just fucking listen to what I’m saying. Watch what I’m doing. And tomorrow, if you want to walk away after I give you my best effort, well, then go. I won’t stop you. I won’t come after you. I’ll respect your decision and leave you alone.”
“Ha,” she laughs. Her face is right in front of mine and I can see the panic building as she struggles to get free, but can’t. “You’re not fucking me tonight, asshole. There’s no way.”
“You’re right. I have no intention of fucking you tonight.”
She wriggles in my hold, her little fists pushing against my broad shoulders. She’s small when pulled tight against me.
“But you will be in my bed. And you will let me make love to you.”
“Like hell,” she says, still resisting.
I stroke her cheek to calm her down. “Grace, listen. Just be still and listen to me. I like you. I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my life and I want to have something more with you. Now settle for a moment. Just get used to this. Let me hold you close.”
She lets out a long breath but she does settle against my chest. I wrap my hand around her head and bring her even closer. So her cheek is pressed against my suit coat. “I wish I could take this coat and shirt off and feel your cheek on my bare chest. I’d like to feel your breath as you calm down. I’d like to feel the thumping of your heart as it slows. But I’m afraid if I let you go, you’ll get away.”
She stays still against me, thinking.
“Will you leave me?”
“Will you leave me?” she asks back.
“Stick around and find out.”
“Fuck,” she huffs. “What the hell do you want from me, Vaughn? It’s not enough that you insulted me with your NDA, your money drops in my bank account, the public fucking on the island, the humiliation of making me blow you in my hallway, making me eat out of your hand as I sit at your feet, and then having to watch one of your many whores on TV tell me I’m breaking up her relationship. For Christ’s sake, what more do you want to do to me?”
“It’s pretty clear all that makes me a monster, right?”
“How the fuck could it not?”
“Did you like the sex, Grace? And be honest.”
“Yeah, I liked the sex. But a relationship is more than your stupid sex games, Vaughn. Life is more than the fun stuff. Life is the serious stuff too. And I don’t think you do the serious stuff. I like the fun just as much as anyone, but it’s another lie. Because if we were together, then most of our time would be spent having regular sex. Doing things like working, and cooking, and all that stupid bullshit that comes with a relationship.”
“How would you even know what comes with a relationship?”
“Says the fucking kettle to the pot!”
“Have you ever had a normal relationship? A long-term one?”
“Have you?”
“No!” I shout, making her jump. “No,” I repeat, softer this time. “That’s my whole fucking point. I want all that boring stuff and I want to try it with you. And you’re what? Too fucked up to even hear me? Should I just put you to bed and try this conversation again in the morning when you’re sober and rational?”
“I’m not drunk. I’m just angry.”
“With who, though? Me? Because of the girl on TV telling lies about me? Because of all the fantastic sex we had? Because I gave you money to donate to your favorite charities? Because I won you in a game of baccarat? I mean, what exactly is pissing you off here?”
She laughs. Her whole body shakes against mine and she laughs. “You won me?”
“Oh, please, don’t take that the wrong way. Of course it was fake, Grace. A symbolic gesture between me and that Li character you were attached to at the hip. So spare me your feminist self-righteous bullshit. I can’t take anymore. You have no idea what you want. You want the fairy tale? The prince, the money, the fantastic vacations and travel? Private jets, probably. That’s fairy tale stuff. Stuff I can actually give you. So you say you want all that, but then when I offer it up, I’m using you. I’m disrespecting you. I’m—what were your words on the island?—I’m an Oscar-winning prick.” I let go of her and push her off me. “Just shut the hell up with your conflicting emotions for once, Grace. Give in and say yes. You never want to say yes.”
“God, how can you even say that?” She crosses her arms in front of her and rubs her shoulders, like she’s chilled. “I never say no. I always say yes. You’re the only person ever who makes me want to say no.”
“And why is that? Can you at least answer that honestly?”
She stops her rubbing and lets her arms fall to her side. And then she turns her back and walks over to the bar, grabbing her empty champagne glass along the way. She fills it up, takes a sip, then fills it up again and guzzles it down.
She places her hands over her face and drops her head for a moment, and I’m almost positive she’s trying very hard not to cry, but then she brings her hands back to her sides and turns to face me.
“Because, Vaughn, you scare the shit out of me. That’s why. You want honesty? Fine. You scare me. You were my dream guy, OK? You were everything I ever wanted. And you’re here and it’s not real.” She shakes her head, like the whole idea that we’re in this room together is incredible. “You’re here in front of me, offering me something I want more than anything else in this world. And I’m too scared to try because I know you’re not the dream guy I made you out to be. And I’m going to get hurt. And I’m going to get used. And I’m going to regret it if I let you in. Do you understand that? I’m going to regret it.”
“You’re setting yourself up to regret, Grace. How do you not see that?”
“You’ve been complaining about my fantasy sinc
e we met. You want me to be rooted in reality and not heap these expectations on you. So fine, that’s where I’m at. And that means this fight, Vaughn, all this fighting we do… that’s our reality. It’s unfortunate, but true.”
I sigh and walk over to the bar to pour myself another drink. I take a long sip, then guzzle it, just like she did a few moments ago. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Grace. We don’t have to make this our reality.”
“It’s a personality clash, Vaughn. It can’t be helped.”
I turn back to her, shaking my head. “It’s not a personality clash, Grace. It’s an issue of trust. You don’t trust me to be careful with your heart. I don’t trust you to be honest with me about your feelings. It’s got nothing to do with our personalities. Our chemistry is just fine. I really like you. I’m attracted to you in every dirty way imaginable. You say you’ve been fantasizing about me for years. You respond to my sexual requests and are willing to meet me halfway. You signed an NDA for me. So I know you’re interested. I know you like me. Why can’t you just admit it to yourself?”
She walks over to the couch and sits down. He head falls back against the cushions and she lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think it can work.”
“Why?”
“Because…” She closes her eyes and stays silent.
“Because why, Grace?” I take a seat next to her and pull her in my lap. She scoots down and places her head on my thighs and tucks her hands between her legs like a little girl going to sleep. I stroke her hair and wait her out, and with every brush of my fingertips past the smooth skin of her neck, I feel her relax a little more.
“Because I’m scared. It’s so much easier to want things than it is to have things. Because having things means you have to keep things.”
It’s my turn to sigh now. “That’s true. The more you have, the more you have to lose.”
