My heart aches—it actually aches. “I don’t know if there was an us.” Even as I say it, some little voice in me screams that it’s a lie.
“There was an us for me,” he says. “There always will be an us for me.”
Henry’s here. In front of me. “You carved more than four hundred of those?”
His gaze sears my heart. How many he carved isn’t the question, and he knows it.
I can barely think. This is everything I didn’t dare want.
“It feels like too much to believe,” I say finally.
“I know. I get it. You’ve been burned.” He takes my hand like my hand belongs to him. He knits his fingers between mine, warm and soft. “I burned you when I didn’t tell you everything,” he says. “I should’ve, and I didn’t. I could stand here and give you excuses, but I won’t. I just need you. Give us a chance.”
“I can’t.”
His hand tightens, just a bit, like if he doesn’t hold me tightly, I might get away. “Let me love you enough for both of us.”
“What?”
“I love you.” His words are calm and sure. “That’s real. Everything was wrong, but that part’s real. It always will be.”
Instinctively I’m looking for the trick, the lie. But all I see is love, the vulnerability of Henry’s love. Of his coming here. Of his griffins.
Henry’s gaze is deep-blue honesty and miles-wide loyalty. He’s been burned, too, but he’s showing up.
Like some things can come true.
“And of course…” He lifts our joined hands, brushes a kiss on my middle knuckle. “You have to let me design and build your studio share project. I mean, please. You think anybody else can do it halfway as well as I could?”
I smile. “There’s the Locke Kool-Aid that I know and love.”
He pauses and everything seems to still. Like, do I mean I love him?
“It’s just about the Kool-Aid?” he asks.
I smile so wide, I think I can never stop. “If I tell you I love you, if I tell you how much I love you and how scared I am for it not to be real that you love me, will it stop you from carving more tiny griffins like a psycho?”
“No,” he says. “I’ll keep carving them for you. As long as I can carve.”
Thirty-Four
One year later ~ New York City
Vicky
Thick red curtains crash to the stage, and Henry and I leap to our feet, clapping. Latrisha springs up on my other side. She sticks her fingers in her mouth and gives an earsplitting whistle.
It was an amazing show, a super funky musical adaptation of Shakespeare in Love. Carly got the part of Lady de Lesseps—a huge feather in her cap for her age. She even got a duet, which was heart-stoppingly beautiful, though I might be biased.
After several long minutes of applause, the leads come out, two big Broadway stars. They take their bows, and then the supporting cast all run out, including Carly, who catches my eye and grins wide before taking her bow, holding hands with her scene mates.
The curtain goes down one final time, the lights go on, and we make our way to the aisle—slowly.
It’s Locke night at the show, meaning Locke Worldwide bought out half the tickets for employees and vendors as a way to support the show early on. Brett’s idea.
Things are better with Brett. I came around to forgiving him—it was right around when we got back to the States, once Carly finished her school term in London. I know he was fighting for the company, not unlike Henry. And Brett’s going to be family now—Henry and I got engaged over Christmas.
Henry was slower to forgive, but they’re on good terms again. Back to their golf and scotch and strategy walks around Battery Park.
Henry shakes hands, kisses cheeks, and remembers names left and right. And I love him like crazy for it.
“Vonda!” Mandy comes and squeezes my hands. She’s in a dazzling green dress. “Your sister! So good.”
I thank her, grinning like a proud parent.
Other Locke employees are there, as well as some of Henry and Brett’s society set, complimenting my sister. Renaldo asks about Smuckers and I confide that he’s home resting up in preparation for a long day at the Sassy Snout groomer.
A woman comes up to me wearing a Smuck U necklace—I put them up on Etsy and they’re a huge hit. It’s fun to be back to jewelry designing.
We also bought the Southfield makers space and we’re making it bigger and better. I got my area back. Right next to Latrisha.
Coming back to New York publicly as Vonda was a revelation. Naturally, I didn’t want to. I dreaded the attention. Even after the Woodruff scandal broke, even after having long talks with Henry— he felt certain the attention wouldn’t hurt this time—I just didn’t want it.
But I wanted to be with Henry, wanted to return to New York. The London share studio was on its way by the time Carly finished high school. I had a great person to run it. So we packed up our flat and I steeled myself and we flew back on Henry’s jet.
He set up a press conference for the day after we returned.
I wasn’t so sure about that plan, but I trusted his experience with the paparazzi. “Feed them a nice meal and they won’t go following you for crumbs,” he said.
So I steeled myself. I might have even put on a dark sweater set and slim skirt. “No!” Carly cried, tugging at my sweater. “Noooooo!”
I grinned and hugged Carly to me. But I needed body armor. Something to cover my heart.
I stepped out in front of the cameras with Henry, holding his hand in a sweaty death grip, waiting for the insults, the onslaught of hurtful questions. Braced, steeled, pulse racing like I was entering a war zone.
The battle never came.
It was just waves of goodwill, stunning and warming me. People empathizing with me. Apologizing. It was beyond cathartic.
I can’t count the number of people who have come up to me since I got back, telling me their own stories of not being believed, of being scapegoated, pilloried on social media.
None got to the level of national shaming I did, but I also know that when it’s happening to you, it feels like the whole world is doing it. Sometimes I know I’m the only one listening.
We finally reach the chandelier-draped lobby. There are vintage posters all around. People are happy—buoyant, even, from the show.
I’m pulling forward but Henry tugs me back and spins me into a corner, hands curled around my waist. He kisses me hard. “That dress. God, need you so bad,” he says. “You’re beautiful. You’re like a firebird.”
I grin and nip his lip. I’ve let my hair go back to red, and my dress is bright orange. Fire doesn’t burn me anymore.
“Need to strip you out of it,” he grates in a voice that has me wishing that lobby-to-limo teleportation was a thing.
“Need to get you out of that wristwatch,” I say.
He pulls me in more tightly against the powerbrokery hard body that I love.
We do eventually get out of there, but not to the limo. We sneak around the dark side of the building to the cast exit and wait for Carly, which involves making out like teenagers. And then he pushes back into the bricks and fixes me with a serious stare.
“I love you,” he says, his voice full of wonder. “So much.”
I gaze up at his beautiful face and lopsided dimples that I like to kiss. “I love you, Henry.” And the stars in the night sky seem to brighten behind him.
I’m going to be honest—the stars up there still make zero intelligible pictures as far as I can see. But the picture Henry and I make together means everything to me, lines scribbling between our hearts to create an amazing new world.
~finis~
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed your time with Henry, Vicky, and Smuckers as much as I did!
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Acknowledgments
I’m so grateful to have so many smart, creative, generous friends in my life—you guys are always up for reading my stuff at different stages and lending me your expertise and it means the world. It definitely meant the world to this book. Joanna Chambers came through with the most brilliant insights and tough love ever—omg thank you! M. O’Keefe blazed in with beautiful emotional ideas and key fixes; Katie Reus had great catches and character insights. Thanks also to Courtenay Bennett for a fabulous eagle-eye read and ideas on certain terms. Hugest thanks to my local writing group—Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew, Marcia Peck, Mark Powell, and Terri Whitman—your thoughtful read and insights were absolutely inspiring and just golden to me! Deb Nemeth did a great developmental edit, Sadye Scott-Hainchek did an early proofread and Judy Sturrup delivered on a wonderfully helpful final proofread. Thanks also to Letitia of RBA Designs for the cover beauty, and kisses to Nina Grinstead and the gang at Social Butterfly for amazing energy and invaluable support. All of you! Hugs!
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About Annika Martin
Annika Martin loves fun, dirty stories, hot heroes, and wild, dramatic everything. She enjoys hanging out in Minneapolis coffee shops with her writer husband, and is fond of birdwatching at her birdfeeder alongside her two stunningly photogenic cats. She’s heavy into running, 90’s music, saving the planet, taking long baths, and consuming chocolate suckers. She’s worked a surprisingly large number of waitressing jobs, and has also worked in a plastics factory and the advertising trenches; her garden is total bee-friendly madness and her most unfavorite word is nosh or possibly fob. A NYT bestselling author, she has also written as RITA award-winning author Carolyn Crane.
@Annika_Martin
AnnikaMartinBooks
www.annikamartinbooks.com
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Most Eligible Bastard: an enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy Page 26
