by Colet Abedi
Sometimes I wish I were with them touring through Europe. But then I think about how I felt when I thought Clayton had betrayed me in the Maldives, and the loneliness of being away from him, and I know I’m making the right decision staying here.
Without a doubt, I would be a big ball of depression if I were with Erik and Orie. I’m pretty sure the pictures would not be the same. They’d be a series of shots with two hot guys and Debbie Downer.
I sigh and get back to my task.
It’s late afternoon and I’m in Clayton’s living room sketching a photo I took from the hill above the chateau in Avignon, one of my favorite spots on his estate. It’s a view of mist settling over the beautiful valley.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look beautiful when you work.” Michael Sinclair startles me as he walks into the room.
I turn quickly and see Clayton’s tall, handsome brother confidently stride into the room. He’s dressed casually in black jeans and a hoodie and is sexy as hell.
I set my sketchpad down and get up happily. I must be starved for company, because I’m just so pleased to see someone I know in person, and not on social media.
I walk over to him and give him a hug.
“It’s nice to see you,” I whisper as he embraces me in his strong arms, practically lifting me off the ground.
I don’t blame Abby for being in love with this guy. I think a nun would be. Or a monk, for that matter. Talk about a tall, rugged, extremely masculine, body of sexy.
He gives me a brotherly kiss on top of my head.
“You didn’t listen to me,” he half jokes as he pulls away to watch my reaction.
“I didn’t,” I admit ruefully.
Michael’s quiet. I wonder what he’s thinking.
“How’s your mom?” I ask him.
“Stronger than expected,” he tells me.
“And your dad?”
“Not great.” Michael looks so sad. “To be honest, I thought it would be the opposite.”
If I had to guess I would say that the eldest Sinclair is feeling beyond guilty since he had William stay behind. I can’t imagine what must be going on his head.
“And you?”
I watch the shadows come over his bright blue eyes that remind me so much of Clayton. He runs a shaky hand over his face.
“You know,” he begins, “I don’t know how I feel. Sad, of course. Devastated. Like there’s a void that can never be filled. Which it can’t. Ever. My baby brother—”
His voice breaks and he turns away from me and walks over to the fireplace. I stay quiet. He stares down at the blaze. My eyes are glued to his handsome profile.
“And then there’s this part of me that understands,” he tells me. “You know, I‘m a voracious reader. I have been since I was a young boy. Philosophical books are my favorite. I’m trying to take what I’ve retained over the years and apply it to my situation now. Maybe that’s what’s helped me be able to bear this more than the rest of my family. I don’t know. But I feel like it has in a way.”
He seems embarrassed by his admission. “Do I sound like a lunatic?”
Hello? Look who you’re talking to! I want to say. But thankfully I don’t.
“Not at all,” I say calmly. “I’m actually a big self-help reader myself.” I notice the look of surprise on his face. “But obviously I’ve got a ways to go,” I rush out awkwardly, since it’s blatantly obvious that I am not the picture of Zen. Most of the time, I’m the exact opposite.
Michael laughs.
“You’re very funny,” he says.
“Unfortunately it’s not intentional,” I admit ruefully.
Michael shouts with laughter now.
He has a great laugh. Like his brother. And I’m happy that I’ve made him smile even if it’s at my expense.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Anything,” he says with a smile.
“Tell me what’s going on with Clayton.”
He looks at me inquisitively. “How do you mean?”
“He doesn’t really talk to me,” I explain. “Or tell me what he’s thinking. And I don’t want to push him, so I’m quiet and just— just here with him. For him. But I wish he would open up to me. Do I make sense?”
“Yes, of course you do.”
I wait.
“I think he blames himself,” Michael says after a while.
“But how can this be anyone’s fault? And why would he even think that?” I demand. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
“He thinks he should have pulled William away from our father,” he explains. “He wanted William to work for him. I’ve tried to tell Clayton that it wouldn’t have changed anything. That this awful loss probably would have happened regardless. At least, that’s what I believe.”
I’m surprised Michael is looking at this in such a open—minded way. It makes him even more attractive.
“I believe that, too,” I admit.
We look at each other and there’s an understanding between us. A recognition of sorts. In that moment, I believe our bond is made forever.
“My brother is lucky,” he whispers.
I can feel myself blush. But before I can respond—
“Am I interrupting?” he says in an annoyed voice.
Clayton is there, dressed in an expensive black suit, his face, even though chiseled in grief, alarmingly handsome. He takes my breath away.
“No, you’re not,” Michael replies with narrowed eyes. I’m sure he didn’t miss the tone in his brother’s voice.
Clayton looks from his brother to me in an almost accusatory way. His look doesn’t even dignify a reaction.
“I didn’t expect you so early,” I tell him.
“Really?”
I can’t miss the cynicism in his voice.
“No,” I ignore his tone. “I was sketching when your brother surprised me. Is there something wrong?”
I watch the struggle.
I know it’s hard for him. He wants to go there. He’s probably looking for a fight more than anything right now. I’m sure that the only reason he’s restraining himself is because he doesn’t want to look crazy to his brother.
“We need to talk now, Michael,” Clayton says. “There are some things we need to go over.”
I watch the way Michael’s eyes light up in annoyance by his brother’s commanding tone, but he too holds himself together and nods.
He looks at me. “If you’ll excuse us, Sophie.”
“Yes, of course,” I say to him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Michael tells me.
The two walk to the door. When Michael exits, Clayton lingers to turn and stare at me.
“I won’t be here tonight,” he says to my surprise. “I’ll be in Bath, where we will be laying William to rest.”
It’s sad that I don’t even know where the funeral is going to take place. But it’s another pill I just swallow.
“We have a family estate in Bath,” Clayton explains. “It was William’s favorite place.”
I don’t know what this means for me. Does he not want me to go the memorial? Is he going to shut me out completely?
Thankfully, he quickly relieves my worries.
“Sergei will drive you tomorrow morning, the service doesn’t begin until four-thirty pm,” he says. “We’ll stay in Bath for the night then come back the following day.”
The surge of relief I feel is staggering.
“Alright,” I say. “Are you leaving now?”
“Yes. With Michael.”
We stare at each other.
The distance between us seems greater than the few yards.
Because I know he won’t be the one to bridge the gap, I do. I walk over to him and don’t allow a second for him to hesitate. I get up on my tiptoes, since I’m barefoot, and pull him into my arms.
He pauses for a moment before he gives in and lifts me up of
f the ground. He buries his head in my neck, his lips pressed against my skin. I feel a shiver of desire race up my spine.
“Sophie,” he whispers.
“Clayton,” I say back.
He doesn’t kiss me on the mouth as I would like, but instead pulls away.
“I have a surprise for you.”
I lift a questioning brow but he gives me the hottest smile.
“Patience,” he tells me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He walks out and I’m left alone.
Again.
It’s been a little over an hour since Michael an Clayton left and I’m now sitting alone in Clayton’s family room in front of a giant flat-screen television and channel surfing. It’s dark out already so I’m just going to stay in for the rest of the evening. I’m looking for something on the Discovery Channel or History. My secret addiction, besides self-help books, KitKat, and pizza (in no particular order), are shows about aliens. Yes, it sounds crazy. It probably is. But guess what? I love it. And yes, I believe!
They are so coming down to wage war one day.
Ariana made me a tray of tea sandwiches, chocolates, and wisely included a bottle of rosé on ice that I plan on indulging.
“Yo, bitch. Get out the way…”
Just like that, my life is perfect.
Erik and Orie are standing in the doorway posing like supermodels. Looking fabulous. And ready to rock and roll.
I can’t help it. I scream in joy!
Then I run to Erik and throw myself at him.
“Jesus. You act as though we haven’t seen each other for months,” he say as he pulls me into his strong embrace. “You know it’s only been three days?”
“Seems like forever,” I tell him.
“You’ve lost weight,” Orie says as he smacks me on the ass.
“I’ve been eating,” I tell him. “It must be nerves.”
Erik spins me around.
“Thank God for those,” he says. “They do wonders for body fat.”
“What are you guys doing here? I thought you were in Majorca?” I ask them after we get over the hugs and kisses.
“Clayton called us,” Orie says.
I pull away from Erik.
“What?”
“He called Erik, actually, and said that he thought you might like the company.”
“He sent a jet for us,” Erik informs me. “A fucking, crazy-ass, Lear motherfucker, what’s up, I’m rich kind of jet. When I saw that thing on the runway I knew we made the right decision to come to you.”
“You’re speaking a foreign language,” I tell him with a smile.
“Yeah, I figured,” he says. “It’s called luxury. And you need to become fluent in it real fast. I don’t think they have a Rosetta Stone for it so you’re gonna have to learn it on your own.”
I burst out laughing.
“I missed you!” I tell him.
“I know.” He’s completely unaffected by my words. He spots the rosé and walks over and fills my glass and takes a healthy sip.
“Before I get into the whole how-fucking-nuts this home is, how are you?” Orie asks in concern as he comes over to me and rubs my hair.
I take a moment before I reply. I wish I could hide from Erik and Orie but they are too good at sensing my moods. They can read me like nobody’s business.
“I’m okay,” I say.
Erik raises a brow.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him. “This is not an easy time. I can’t tell you I’m happy and perfect and we’re riding off into the sunset, because we’re not. This situation is not good. I’m only here for Clayton. I want to support him during this awful time. I don’t expect anything from it.”
“Bullshit,” he answers..
“What?” I’m annoyed.
“Of course you expect something from it.” He waves at me like I’m an insignificant fly. “You can’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” I say.
Am I?
You are so lying.
“Okay!” I admit. “But right now isn’t about us, it’s about him and his loss.”
“Yes,” Erik admits. “ And after tomorrow?”
“I haven’t even thought about that,” I tell him honestly.
“Don’t think about it now,” Orie says.
“But you will think about it the day after tomorrow,” Erik warms. “You can’t stay here forever and sit in his house and just drink wine, have tea sandwiches, and be waited on hand and foot. I mean, you could do that, but it won’t make you happy. It would make me happy without a doubt, but not you.”
I almost laugh.
“You have to be Sophie,” he goes on dramatically. “The Sophie I know. The artist. And you have to make decisions, even if they’re not going to be the ones you like.”
I give him a sad smile.
“I know this,” I say softly.
“Do you?” He doesn’t believe me.
“Yes,” I say. “I do. But for the time being I just want to think of Clayton.”
Erik looks like he wants to give me a stinging reply but Orie hits him in the gut and prevents him from doing so.
“Fine,” he says. “I hear you. I’ll give you forty-eight hours before I start on you again.”
Instead of having Sergei drive us we decide to take the train into Bath that morning. This way we’ll safely get there with enough time before the memorial and we’ll have some privacy to talk. The countryside is absolutely beautiful and I fall in love instantly. I wish I was here under different circumstances, but when we reach the historic city, I understand why William was drawn to the area. You can’t help but fall in love with the buildings and trees. The history that oozes from the place. And there are the ancient Roman baths here that I know the city is known for and I’m dying to explore.
We get a taxi to our hotel. Clayton’s assistant had Ariana tell us this morning that Erik, Orie, and I have reservations at The Royal Crescent Hotel, which I guess was someone’s home in the eighteenth century. She doesn’t say whether Clayton is staying there as well or at their family estate and I don’t ask. I like the idea of experiencing something very English.
Clayton hasn’t called since he left yesterday.
I try not to dwell over this but it’s hard. I know he’s with his family. I know this is an awful time. But the part of me that loves him so bad wishes he would accept my embrace and compassion. And most important, love. I want to help him feel at least somewhat, better. That’s the only reason why I came to London. But with each passing day, it seems like less of a possibility.
He did warn you, Sophie, my inner voice creeps up on me.
You suck! I silently say back.
You do realize you’re talking to yourself?
Whatever.
I’m officially going crazy. Or I have been but it’s seriously inching up on me now.
The three of us check into the hotel, which I really can’t believe was someone’s home in the eighteenth century. The grounds, the sheer size, it’s all so epic.
Erik and Orie love the hotel and their room. Clayton booked them a suite, which is large and beautiful. There’s a living area that is done in pale yellow colors with silk couches, combined with crown moldings and gorgeous oil paintings, the room is to die for. My suite is is just as jaw dropping. It’s bigger than theirs and a good distance away. The front desk gave me only one key and hoped that I would enjoy my stay. This can only mean that Clayton is not staying with me. He had his secretary book it, so he’s obviously staying at his family estate.
We get dressed in conservative black attire and we’re picked up at four pm for the funeral. William’s mass is held in a small old church that is not over the top at all, the opposite of what I expected given the stature of Clayton’s family, but it’s extraordinarily charming. And perfect.
Erik, Orie and I stay at the back of the church, even though many ushers ask who we are and
urge us to go to the front pews. I reject this notion because I’m acutely aware that I’m an outsider. And I don’t want to sit with the immediate family and impose myself. Clayton is surrounded by mourners and I give him his space. I’m sure he knows I’m here so he will find me if he needs me. I just accept what is. I know the family is in deep pain and just hope that my presence is enough.
The mass is beautiful. The eulogies are incredibly touching. When Clayton speaks, I am proud of him and overcome with emotion. He reads a poem from Henry Scott-Holland titled “Death Is Nothing at All.” The verses bring everyone to tears. The he talks about his relationship with William. Their love for on another. His older brother persona and how overprotective he was. It’s humorous and poignant, and I find myself crying through his entire tribute.
After the service, I don’t see Clayton in the crowd of people, so can’t tell him how beautiful I thought his speech was, but I bide my time. I don’t want to intrude and I want him to be able to talk to whomever he must and be with his family.
Then everyone retires to a pub in the city that William particularly loved. There they serve William’s favorite food and drinks. Erik, Orie, and I order wine and take a seat in a small booth in the back that allows us to see everyone who comes in the room, including Clayton, who isn’t here yet.
“I’m glad we decided to sit and chill,” Erik says.
“I concur,” Orie says.
“Good decision,” I agree.
Eventually Georgie and Abby come and join us. Georgie is wearing all black suede and actually looks chic as shit. I watch as Erik gives him an admiring once over.
“I need wine,” he says as he moves his way into the booth to sit with us.
“C'est tellement triste,” Georgie goes on. “William was the best of the Sinclairs.”
“Don’t say that, Georgie,” Abby says as she scoots into the booth with us.
She looks pale and gaunt and I worry instantly.
“Are you alright, Abby?” I ask in concern.
“Yes, Sophie,” she tells me. “I’m just tired. Too much going on and—”
“She dumped that fucking Cosack,” Georgie finishes for her.
My mouth drops open. Abby flushes.
“Georgie!”
“I couldn’t wait to share the good news,” he says. “It is cause for celebration. Even William’s ascension into the afterlife is a cause for a party.”
