She still loved fashion, but she loved the brains behind making it work even more. She planned on running her own runway shows one day. For the time being she organized everything but the flowers. I would have welcomed the distraction, but every time I looked at a check book I thought of Tristan and I burst into tears.
I had been crying a lot, you’d think I would have run out of tears. But I still cried myself to sleep every night. I’d wake up with swollen eyes and cry through breakfast because I saw all of his missed calls. He hadn’t stopped calling.
When I answered that weird number, I heard his voice and freaked out. I couldn’t talk to him because I felt stupid.
I was stupid to think I could have him. I came home every night, thinking we could be having dinner together. We could be sleeping in the same bed, we could be having breakfast, fighting over the shower and then end up sharing before going off to work. Texting each other and falling more and more in love every day. I was stupid, and I couldn’t face him.
So, I distracted myself with work and the business got bigger than I could have ever imagined, for that I was happy. I wanted to make my mother proud. I wanted to beg for Tristan’s forgiveness, but he was such a good man, I know he wasn’t even angry. But he should have been.
He never even left any angry voicemails.
Emilia, I just want to talk to you. Please call me back.
I want to know that you are doing okay. How are you? Call me back.
I miss you. And I still love you. We can still try and make this work.
Emilia, I’m sorry. Please call me back.
I still love you. I still want you.
Please, this doesn’t have to end.
He wasn’t mad. He was hurt. He didn’t chase women. I hated myself for driving him mad like this and I didn’t know how to fix it.
“Emilia, we have to be there in twenty minutes!”
Ivy had a key to my place and started letting herself in. I was going to an annual flower convention downtown. Its main purpose was to book companies like mine for different gigs. I hoped to build our clientele there. All the people Tristan sent me had started to die down.
“Coming!”
I covered my red eyes with eyeliner and fixed my dress. I forced myself to wear this bright green sundress when all I wanted was to wear sweats and eat ice cream. At first, I ate a bunch of junk food, now I just ate little to nothing. My clothes were fitting looser. I remembered how much Tristan loved my body, he would barely recognize me now.
“Okay, let’s go.” Ivy eyed me warily. She could tell I had been crying. She knew me well.
She drove us downtown and we started setting up. The tables were already there so all we had to do was decorate. She made a really nice tablecloth with my logo on it. The business cards and portfolio were set out and we sat behind the table, watching the room fill up with other vendors.
“You were crying this morning.” She commented. I shrugged.
“Yeah. As usual.”
“Honey, why don’t you call him? He isn’t mad. You can fix this.” She clasped my hand.
I shook my head, taking a deep breath to keep from crying.
“I can’t. There is nothing I can do without making a fool of myself. Let’s just focus on this, please.”
She nodded. “The flowers will be here soon.”
I nodded. I checked the ad I had put out on Facebook. It got a lot of likes, so I felt like a lot of people would show. But there was competition. Everyone in the room was just as good, if not better.
A few minutes later, a service trolley rolled in with a beautiful array of buttercups and baby’s breath. I smiled, my favorite. Then it headed right towards us.
“Are you Emilia Michelle?” The sweet old delivery man stopped in front of our table.
“Yes, but I ordered a tulip and rose arrangement.” It was my best arrangement, it always sold people on my work. But I didn’t order this.
“Well, I have your order here.” His graying brows rose as he handed me the tablet. Sure, enough the order was there with my name.
Ivy looked over my shoulder. “I made the order myself.” She said.
“It has this message with it.” The man leaned into one of the pots and handed me a card.
I opened the card.
Your mother would want you to be brave. You already have been, but now you need to take a chance. With me. Please call me. If you love me, you’ll call.
-Tristan.
My tears flowed hot and heavy. He was right. Mom would want me to go after love, and I did love him. I was barely aware of Ivy signing for the flowers and the delivery man leaving. I wiped my tears quickly, so I could look more presentable.
“Let me see.” I gave the card to her.
She read it and smiled.
“See? The man loves you to death Emilia. Stop hurting him.” Ivy said sternly.
She was right. I shouldn’t hurt him anymore.
But I couldn’t leave the event.
“I’ll call him after. I swear.” She narrowed her eyes at me but left me be.
The event went smoothly. I talked to so many people, and left with eleven new bookings, all spread out for the next four months. It was amazing. Ivy and I decided to do these events every chance we got.
“That was awesome.” She said as we packed up.
“You go call him! I’ll clean up.” I protested, but she held up her hand effectively stopped me.
I sighed but stepped off to a quiet corner to call him. It only rang twice.
“Emilia?”
I gasped at the sound of his voice. Deep and husky, but sad. It was all because of me.
“Hi, Tristan.” My voice croaked. I heard him inhale sharply on the other line. He was surprised. He thought I didn’t love him.
“You love me?” He breathed. I laughed through my hot tears.
“Yes. So much. Tristan, I am so sorry. For everything I said, I never meant to hurt you. And I did. I shouldn’t have blamed you.” I rambled.
I wished he were here to hold me. To wipe my tears away. But for now, I would settle for his voice falling over me. I had missed it so much. It wasn’t the same over voicemail.
“It’s okay baby doll, it’s in the past. I was never mad at you. I just wanted a chance.” He replied.
“I should have given you one. I was stupid. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, I’m not angry. I’m just glad you called.”
“You still love me?” I asked him. He chuckled softly.
“Are you kidding? Of course, I love you, always.”
“I—I want to see you.” I said.
“Come outside.”
“What?” I looked around. Was he here?
“Come outside.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. I walked out through the back and crossed the alley way.
He was there, leaning against his car. I ran towards him like a mad woman, calling out his name until he saw me. He greeted me with that big, perfect smile of his. I collided into him, the warmth and hardness of his body meeting mine as he wrapped me in his arms. The smell of pine and soap invaded my senses, I had missed it so much. My hands were everywhere on him until they landed on his hair, latching him to me as he kissed me.
My soul relaxed as my body melted into his. I parted my lips, they moved with him in perfect unison. God, I missed him.
“How long have you been waiting?” I asked him.
“A few hours.” His green eyes smoldered into mine. It was everything I needed.
“You waited that long to see me?”
“Baby doll, I will always wait for you. Always.”
Epilogue
I was living a real-life fairytale.
The last four months had been hard. I was drowning in work, Tristan was too. Sometimes he was home late, and then me. But we always ended up in bed together at the end of the night. I moved in with him almost immediately after that flower convention.
We snuck our time in.
; Sometimes at breakfast like I imagined, before bed. Over lunch breaks. But for the past few weeks it had finally slowed down, and I could have more time, and his staff was getting bigger, so he didn’t have to be at the forefront of everything.
He insisted in taking me away for a weekend, to celebrate our success. I had no events coming up, and Ivy was taking care of everything else. So, I packed a weekend bag with plenty of lingerie and waited for him as asked.
He got home around noon on that Friday and changed quickly before we left.
“Where are we going?” I asked him. The rev of his Tesla was quiet, I sunk into the leather seat. His hand trailed the bare skin of my leg in my dress. I couldn’t wait to get him into a bed. Or anywhere. We hadn’t had sex in almost two weeks, it was odd for us.
“To my cabin on the lake. You’ll like it.” He smirked and turned back to the road.
The drive was quick, and we pretty much ran inside. We were undressed in seconds, and on the couch naked in four more. When he slipped inside of me it felt like home.
“I missed you.”
I wondered if he was talking to my boobs or me. Maybe both. He wasted no time, thrusting into me with the fury of all the time we had missed together. I cried out, we were in the middle of nowhere, so it wasn’t like anyone could hear us.
“Tristan, yes!” I came, hard and loud as I clenched around him.
He collapsed against me as he came soon after. We caught our breaths until we ended up falling asleep.
I woke up alone though and confused. I yawned and tugged on his shirt left behind on the couch. I rubbed my eyes and felt something cold on my skin. I looked at my hands and was utterly confused. Because there was a huge solitaire diamond on my ring finger.
“What the…”
I jumped up, off to search for Tristan.
“Tristan! Tristan!”
He wasn’t inside. Was I confused? Seeing things? No, I kept checking and it was still there. It felt like it belonged there, but what the hell was going on.
Finally, I found him out on the deck in front of the grill. He was deliciously shirtless, wearing sweats as he flipped burgers.
“Tristan.”
I went up to him, he dropped the spatula and turned to me with a smile.
“Hey, sleepy head.” He kissed me, but I pulled away confused.
“What is this?” I held up my left hand.
“A hand.” I swatted him, and he laughed. “It’s a ring, do you like it?”
He held my waist.
“Yes, it’s beautiful but…what—why is it on me?” I asked frantically.
“Because I didn’t want to give you the chance to say no…I want you to marry me, Emilia.”
I gasped. Tears flooded my eyes. I was elated. I was freaking out. And I didn’t know which emotion to feel first.
“You…you want to marry me?” I choked out.
He laughed, “Yes. Of course I do. Do you want to marry me?”
I nodded slowly.
“Like, right now?” I looked around, checking if there was a pastor hiding or something.
“No, soon. Or however long you want to wait. Let’s just not wait ten years like Levi and Gab.”
I giggled softly.
“Yes. Yes, I will marry you.” I whispered, and he pulled me into him.
His kiss lit up my whole body. Giving me everything I had missed and hoped for. I wondered how anything could ever be this perfect. That entire weekend, I don’t think we ever left the bed or put clothes on.
~
Planning a wedding was so much easier when it wasn’t mine or decorating it at least. It took me seven tries to get the arrangement exactly how I wanted it. Buttercups and lilacs don’t necessarily go together, so it was hard to mix it in. But I was determined to have both our favorite flowers. I mellowed the color difference with baby’s breath and white roses. The azaleas helped too.
I finally got it right and could focus on other things. Ivy designed my dress from scratch, a beautiful dress very similar to the one I wore at the ball. The only difference was it was white.
“You, look amazing.” Ivy looked over me in the mirror.
The big day was finally here. Because of our work schedule, it did take a year to finally make it to the altar, but it was perfect.
“Thank you and thank you so much for making it.” I hugged her tight. She looked beautiful in her light purple gown as well. I was so lucky to have a friend like her.
“Can you help me with the train? I need to check the flowers.” She rolled her eyes but helped me with it.
“I have never seen a bride arranging her own flowers.” Ivy commented as I worked on the altar arrangement. I did hire someone, but I tweaked it just a little bit.
We had a beautiful arch way of buttercups and lilacs we would stand under when we said our vows. I couldn’t wait.
Our relationship was quite the struggle. It took me a month to even find him that first time. And another to let him love me. But I was so ready to marry him.
As I stood across from him at the altar; it all came into focus.
He wasn’t a prince. But he sure was my Mr. Charming.
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Covert Love
A Second Chance Military Romance
By Nicole Elliot
ONE
Jade
Someone is following me.
As the thought hit me, I stopped walking and glanced over my shoulder. At the far end of the market, I saw four men carrying weapons.
Are they after me? Maybe leaving the base on my own wasn’t such a good idea.
Panic set in, but I took a deep breath while thinking of my best option. I continued forward a few steps, trying to blend in with my covered head.
After a few steps, I noticed a strange old man in traditional garb staring up at me from the shade of his booth.
“Can I help you?” he asked in English, surprising me.
“Some men are following me.”
He motioned with his hand.
“Step inside out of the sun and have a seat.”
His shop – if you could call it that – seemed innocent enough. Shelves full of candles filled the walls. He sat cross-legged on a mat near the entrance.
Not all locals are bad guys, I reminded myself.
“Thank you. It’s so hot out today.”
“Scorching.”
I stepped into his booth and sat down on a wooden box across from him.
“What is a woman like you doing here by yourself?” he asked, studying my face.
“I’m a journalist working on a story,” I said. “About FOB Cobra, the base nearby.”
“I know it well,” he said, nodding his head. “It’s not safe for a Western woman like you to be alone here.”
“I know. I snuck out today to talk to locals without the military around. I thought I might get a better story.”
“My name is Abdul-lateef,” he said. “And you?”
“Jade Hart.”
He smiled, showing a mouth with a few missing teeth.
“What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He smiled.
“It’s good for people to hear the truth about Afghanistan. Are you an honest reporter?”
As his ancient eyes stared into mine, I shifted in my makeshift seat.
“I would say so.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Would you like water?”
“Sure.”
I watched as he leaned over and dipped a metal cup into a bucket of water next to him.
“Do you have a bottle?” I asked.
He tilted his head and stared at me.
“This water is clean. Look.”
After taking a sip, he offered me the cup.
“I believe you, but I have a sensitive stomach,” I lied. “I need bottled water.”
Outside, I heard an angry male yelling in Pashto.
“They’re looking for you!” the old man said, standing up. “Come with me. I’ll hide you.”
I stared further into his booth as he held out his hand.
“Come, come. We must go.”
“I don’t know…”
“Everything in Afghanistan is not as it seems. I can help you.”
If you were to measure my panic in that moment, it would have been off the charts.
“No thanks,” I said, stepping outside the booth.
He frowned, looking hurt. I scanned the market for any signs of the Taliban faithful.
Where did they go?
“Come, come,” the man said urgently. “Trust me.”
“Sorry, I trust no one.”
I stepped away from his booth, trying to blend in with the locals. If I made it to the edge of the market, I could find a taxi driver to take me back to FOB Cobra. It was one of the older forward operating bases still in operation in Afghanistan.
A man’s voice yelled out. I walked faster, hoping to get away before they caught up with me. When I reached the only exit from the market, I saw two other men with long beards and guns looking at the crowds.
Act calm. You’ve got this.
The rest of the people around me scattered, leaving me exposed. One of the two men with guns pointed in my direction. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I rushed toward a battered, barely-yellow taxi a few hundred feet away. Go, go, go! I saw one of the men rush forward out of the corner of my eye.
Before I reached my means of escape, a rough hand grabbed my shoulder. I whirled around and kneed the man in the nuts. He cried out, bending over in pain. I rushed forward. The other man grabbed me around the waist from behind and lifted me into the air.
“Let me go!” I screamed. “I’m American!”
Foul smells hit my nose as the man laughed. As I struggled to get out of his grasp, the other man walked over, a serious scowl etched on his face. I thought he would hit me. Another man ran up behind him and threw a bag over my head.
The darkness scared the hell out of me. I screamed again, kicking and wiggling to get away. All the men were yelling, but I had no way to know what about. Were they Taliban or henchman of some local warlord? Not knowing terrified me even more.
I stopped struggling as I realized it wasn’t getting me anywhere. One of the men moved my hands behind my back, tying them tightly. Panic spread through my mind as someone pushed me from behind and yelled.
Mr. Charming_A Mistaken Identity Bad Boy Romance Page 15
