by M. H. Soars
“She doesn’t want me to return to showbiz. She thinks it corrupted me.”
“Did it?”
“No. If anything, it helped me. I was in a bad spot for a long time, Blue. Granted, I did some stupid shit while I was in the band. Ollie’s a witness.”
“Witness? More like an accomplice.” I turn to Saylor. “I was bad, sugar. I want you to know who you married.”
Saylor seems embarrassed as she glances away. “Well, I know.”
“You do?”
“I googled your name after you told me about the paparazzi.”
“Hello? I thought we were talking about me.” Bas waves a hand between Saylor and me, but he’s not smiling. “Anyway, Liv is really against the idea, even if I would be working behind the scenes.”
“Bas, I’m sure if you explained why you want to do it, she would understand. Maybe you have other unresolved issues.”
“What? Did she say anything?”
“No, I just noticed something was off.”
Bas looks out the door again where we can see Liv playing with Fritz.
“I—you’re right. Things are strange between us. I barely see Liv. She works so damn much.”
“You’ll work things out. Your love is of the legends.”
Bas smiles at Saylor, then looks over her shoulder at me. “Yours too, Blue.”
He goes after Liv, leaving Saylor and me alone to deal with that statement. Slowly, she turns to me. “Is he right? Was our love of the legends?”
“Not was. Is. I’ll prove it to you, sugar.”
She stares at me without blinking for several beats, her face revealing nothing, until she gives me the best answer I could hope for.
“Okay.”
Eighteen
Saylor
Mandy called complaining that she hasn’t seen me since I left the hospital, so I asked her if she’d like to come to physical therapy with me. Now that I don’t suck so much anymore, I don’t mind an audience.
Cheryl runs me through some leg exercises, and when I’m able to keep my balance standing on my left leg, she’s satisfied with my progress. We move on to focus on my hand, which is taking the longest to improve. First she tests each finger to assess my motor coordination, then gives me a stress ball.
“Seriously?”
“What? They’re great to rebuild your muscle strength.”
“Yeah, I know. You gave me one weeks ago and I’ve been using it daily.”
“Don’t get snappy me with now, Mrs. Best.”
It’s the first time anyone has called me by my new last name. It’s so strange to be called Mrs. Best.
Cheryl’s phone ring, which is odd because she never brings it with her during our sessions. She looks at the screen, then, without glancing in my direction, says, “I’m sorry. I have to answer this.”
She walks out of the room, leaving me alone with Mandy.
“She seems nice.”
“She’s awesome.” I keep squeezing the stupid ball. I do hate these exercises.
“Is everything okay, Blue? Have you remembered anything?”
“Things are good, and no, no memory recover. Although, I had a flash of a possible memory, but it happened too fast for me to be sure.”
“Really? Have you told anyone?”
“No, you’re the first one to know. It involves Oliver and me, and well, I don’t want to get his hopes up.”
“How is he handling things? It can’t be easy for him.”
“Oliver’s been great despite it all. I can see why I fell in love with him before.”
“Is it still past tense?”
I let out a loud exhale as I press the ball harder. “I don’t know yet. He makes me feel things I can’t explain. It’s possible I’m falling in love with him, but I want to be certain before I say anything, you know?”
Mandy nods and looks down at her lap.
“What’s up with you? How is school?”
“School is great. Grandma’s in a nursing home now. Connor’s as busy as ever with work.”
“And how are things with you, missy? No boyfriend?”
“No boyfriend, but I did meet someone.”
“Oh, please share.”
Mandy bites her lower lip and begins to pick at her nails. “There was one night I stayed with Emma at her hotel. I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the rooftop area to do some writing. He came in and we talked.”
“And?” God, getting anything out of Mandy is like pulling teeth. She was always reserved like that.
“I let him read what I had been working on.”
“No way! You’ve never let anyone read your stuff. I mean, you didn’t a year ago.”
“I’m still kind of shy about my writing, which is stupid since my dream is to be a screenwriter.”
“So what compelled you to share that part of you with a mere stranger?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it was dark and I couldn’t really see his face. Or maybe because something about him made me feel safe. Am I crazy?”
“No, chica. You’re not crazy. But you don’t even know what he looks like? Or know his name at least?”
“Nope. After he read my stuff and said he liked it, I bolted out of there like a chicken running from the big bad wolf.”
She looks kind of sad, so I try to cheer her up. “Hey, if you’re meant to see this guy again, you will.”
God, I’m so full of baloney.
“Do you really think so?”
“One hundred percent. I’m living proof that miracles do happen.”
The smile that illuminates her entire face makes my white lie totally worth it.
Mandy drops me off after the therapy session because she needs to finish a school assignment. I don’t mind; in fact, I’m glad. I was worried about leaving Oliver alone with Felix for too long. The dog did get used to him—no more angry barking, at least—but you never know with dogs that have been abused before.
I call out their names as I walk up the stairs. The only answer I get is a string of curses not aimed at me. Then a couple of barks follow. The noise came from the master suite. What the heck are those two up to?
The bedroom is empty, so I continue to the bathroom. It’s mayhem central. Water and foam are everywhere. Felix is inside the tub, shaking soapy water all over Oliver, who is soaked to the bone. It’s the most ridiculous scene I’ve ever witnessed.
Oliver doesn’t notice my arrival, so I clear my throat while leaning against the doorframe. “This is what happens when I leave the dog with you?”
He turns to me, frustration showing in the clench of his jaw and the furrow on his forehead. “Who did this dog belong to before? Satan?”
“Why are you giving Felix a bath in your tub? What’s wrong with the hose outside?”
“The water is too cold. I’m not an animal abuser.”
I roll my eyes, pushing myself off the doorframe. “Oh please. Why did he need a bath in the first place?”
“I was working on the swing, and this guy here decided it would be fun to play with the paint.”
Putting my hands on my hips, I look sternly at the dog. “Felix, why did you do that?”
The dog jumps out of the tub to greet me properly, splashing water all over me as well before dashing off.
Fuck! I look down at my soiled clothes. I’m soaked through and smell like a wet dog. “Ugh! Stupid dog. Now I’m all wet.”
“Join the club.” Oliver points at his own drenched shirt and jeans.
I narrow my eyes at him before pushing him all the way into the tub. He falls on his ass with a loud splash.
“There, now you can complain.”
“You want to play games, sugar? It’s on.”
His arm snakes out in a blur, grabbing a handful of my T-shirt before I can escape.
He drags me into the tub and I go under like a sack of potatoes. Motherfucker! The lukewarm water soaks the rest of my clothes and hair, and gets into my mouth. Disgusting.
In retaliation
, I grab a handful of dirty foam and smear it all over his face. Things become messy and slippery, and Oliver has the advantage of being stronger. He can use both his arms, easily overpowering me. I become trapped by his tight embrace and things go from harmless fun to smoldering hot in zero-point-one second. We’re both breathing hard when we lock gazes, the air surrounding us crackling with energy. I’m keenly aware of every place his skin touches mine. I won’t be able to fight the pull this time.
Oliver’s gaze drops to my mouth right before he crushes his lips against mine. Holy fuck! This is the type of kiss that inspires songs, that becomes legend. It’s hot and demanding. His hands are everywhere, his restraint gone. So is mine. My hand goes under his shirt, my long nails scratching his abs. When Oliver’s fingers graze the underside of my breasts, sinful fire concentrates between my legs, causing a delicious ache there that only his touch can soothe.
“Sugar, I’ve missed your taste so much,” he says between kisses.
I can’t even form words to reply. I don’t remember what it was like before, but I know I’ll keep coming back for more. Screw taking it slow, screw my stupid need to know for sure if I can fall in love with Oliver again. We’re going down today.
Breaking the kiss, I try to tell him I want to move things to his bed, our bed. But my wish gets lodged in my throat as a scream interrupts our moment. Then Felix’s angry snarl puts the nail in the coffin.
“What the hell!” Oliver yells right before he jumps out of the tub.
I follow him, much slower than I would’ve liked, almost falling onto my knees when I slip on the wet surface.
“Get this monster away from me!” I recognize Charlotte’s voice despite only meeting her a couple of times since I came back from the dead.
Barreling into the living room, I skid to a stop, taking note of the chaotic scene in front of me. Charlotte’s on top of Allan’s desk, trying to fend off Felix with her tiny Chanel bag. If it weren’t for her undeniable fear, I would find humor in the situation.
“Felix, down, boy,” I say.
The dog barks a couple more times before backing away. He runs in my direction to circle me playfully as if he hadn’t been on the verge of biting off one of Charlotte’s limbs.
Charlotte glares at her brother, then at me. “You got a watchdog and didn’t tell me? Are you fucking mental? He could’ve mauled me to death.”
“I’m sorry.”
I do feel terribly guilty. Charlotte is still shaking as she steps down from the desk.
“That teaches you not to come barging in, sis. You don’t live here anymore.” Oliver crosses his arms in front of his chest, not showing an ounce of remorse.
His dynamic with Charlotte isn’t something I’m used to. Being an only child, I only have Liv’s and Remi’s family as a guide, and their relationships with their siblings are miles away from what Oliver has with Charlotte.
“I wouldn’t have dropped by if you had picked up your phone.”
“What was so urgent that you couldn’t have waited for me to return your call?”
Her face changes in an instant, giving me a bad feeling.
“It’s about Dad. He had a heart attack, Ollie. It’s bad.”
Pressing my hand against my chest, I turn to Oliver. The color vanishes from his face and it seems he’s stopped breathing too.
“When?” he chokes out.
“I’m not sure. Mum didn’t say. But she expects us to fly home as soon as possible.”
Oliver runs a hand through his hair and curses, then looks at me, regret written all over his face. “I have to go, sugar.”
It’s like he doesn’t expect me to join him. My heart twists inside my chest, a sharp pain that robs me of air. I’m his wife and he believes I’ll abandon him in his time of need. It makes me so fucking sad. I’ve done that. I’ve kept him at arm’s length. But no more.
I breach the gap between us and touch his face, making sure I have his undivided attention when I say, “I know. I’m coming with you.”
Nineteen
Saylor
I look out the window with bleary eyes. Light rain peppers the glass, distorting the view of a countryside covered partially by gray fog. This feels like a surreal dream.
Everything happened so fast, I barely had time to process what I was doing. I can’t believe I agreed—no, volunteered to travel to another country with a husband I still don’t know. Never mind that I left my bandmates to hang dry. Allan had already planned a bunch of appearances for us, things he had canceled before due to my surgery, and now he’ll have to reschedule again. The length of our stay in England is still unknown.
Despite the problems my sudden departure caused, I don’t regret my decision. This feels right. Oliver needs me, even though he’s acting like he has everything under control.
Yesterday, he operated like an automaton, barking orders left and right. The fire I usually saw in his gaze was gone. His face was frozen solid, rigid with a ruthless determination I confess frightened me a little.
Before I left, I managed to call Liv and my mother to give them the news. Liv offered to call our friends and cancel Oliver’s party. I was grateful for it because in the uproar, I forgot all about our plans. Before I had even ended the conversation with her, Bas had called Oliver. Surprisingly, he took the call, but locked himself in his room. I know they go way back, but the fact that Oliver felt the need to talk with his best friend in private hurt a lot. Have I lost his trust?
After we arrived in foggy London by means of a private jet, a couple of town cars were already waiting for us. Yes, we needed two cars, because even with only a few hours to pack, Charlotte managed to fill three suitcases. We also had Felix to contend with. I couldn’t leave him behind.
Now we’re headed to the family’s stately home in Hertfordshire, a town near London where his father is now recovering from surgery. It turns out the heart attack happened last week and his mother only bothered to contact her children now. Oliver, who was already closed off before, became even more withdrawn at that news. I tried to comfort him, but it was like trying to breach a solid ice wall.
The car leaves the main road to pull into a gravel pathway surrounded on each side by tall trees that are currently gnarled and sad. It must be beautiful here in the spring and summer. At the end of the road, I can see a grand red brick building, and once the car gets closer, my jaw drops as I take in the size of house. No, not house—mansion. I didn’t realize Oliver’s family had so much money, but then again, I never bothered to really ask anything about them, so focused I was on my recovery.
There’s a man standing in front of the house wearing a dark suit, and I can only assume that’s the butler. Surreal.
Charlotte’s car pulls up first, and Jeeves opens the door for her. She exchanges a few words with him before venturing into the house without a glance back. The butler opens my door next, extending his gloved hand to assist me.
“You must be Mr. Best’s new wife. Welcome to Longview Manor.”
The way he says ‘new wife’ sounds like Oliver has had multiple wives before me and I’m the newest model.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Where’s my mother?” Oliver butts in without so much as a hello.
“She’s in the tea room.”
Tea room? Jesus fucking Christ. Did I marry into royalty or something? I should’ve asked Liv for more intel on Oliver’s family. I have to call her—or better yet, Bas—as soon as I get settled.
Oliver takes a step toward the house, then stops and turns in my direction as if I’m an afterthought. “Gilbert will take you to your room. I must speak with my mother.”
Without waiting for my reply, he disappears inside the house just like his sister did, without a glance back, leaving me alone and forlorn. Who is this man? He’s nothing like the Oliver I was getting to know.
Stop with the pity party, Saylor. His father almost died.
The chauffer walks around the car and opens the trunk. Felix jumps out,
running a circle around the guy before coming to stand next to me.
“What’s that?” the butler asks, the disgust in his tone evident.
“A dog. His name is Felix.”
“Mr. Best knows his mother does not tolerate animals in the house. He should’ve known better than to bring that thing here.”
Okay, I so do not like this guy. “Felix is not a thing. He’s a dog. And you can’t possibly tell me there isn’t a place on this vast property where Felix can stay. I thought British people liked dogs. What about your fox hunts?”
Gilbert puffs his chest out and watches me through slits. “The Best family does not hunt.”
“Well, unless you want to make me look bad for bringing Felix inside the main house, I suggest you find a solution to our dilemma.”
“How about looking for a dog hotel?”
“How about not?” I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at the pompous man.
“Oh, fine. I was instructed to give you a room in the main house, but assuming you want to stay close to your pet, I can arrange for you to stay in the guesthouse.”
A guesthouse far away from Oliver’s strange family? Sign me up.
“Sounds marvelous. Lead the way, Jeeves.”
His closed-off expression turns even more sour. “My name is not Jeeves, it’s Gilbert.”
“Potato, potahto.”
A strangled noise comes from the butter, but at least he refrains from making any more comments. If an employee acts with that sense of entitlement, I can’t imagine what Oliver’s parents must be like.
Gilbert takes me to the guesthouse, which turns out to be a mini version of the main building. It has three bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and even a small game room with a pool table. With only a quick glance, I can tell everything is top quality, from the polished dark wood furniture to the state-of-the-art appliances. The master bedroom is almost as big as Oliver’s room in California. The bed looks comfy and inviting. It beckons me. I feel very tired all of a sudden.
Felix makes himself at home, jumping on top of the pristine couch to Gilbert’s clear dismay.
