by Ella Brooke
Emrys rolled his eyes. He had no desire to be an actor who succeeded due to sheer oversaturation in the media or scandal. He considered himself good at what he did, even if many of his opportunities so far had been big blockbusters with little plot to speak of. Overall, he thought his body of work spoke well of his integrities as an actor, as well as the skill he’d developed over the years. He followed her back inside and returned to his table, fulfilling his duty to promote the movie.
He did his part as folks came by his table to chat about their projects. Nina sent a few directors over to speak with him. The evening encompassed more business about other things than it did talking up the movie itself, so the time passed bearably until the doors opened and he caught sight of a head of strawberry blonde hair.
Since he’d left Charles de Gaulle five years ago, Emrys had spotted many redheads and felt his heart skip, then fall, every time. He knew how unlikely it would be for him to run into that pretty, delicate thing he’d toyed with in Paris, only to let her go in the cruelest fashion. That he’d had his reasons didn’t ease his guilt much. This time, though, as the woman turned, Emrys began to think that she bore more than a passing resemblance to Caitlyn.
Her hair was much shorter than the long, sweet braids Caitlyn had usually worn back during that summer he’d met her during a day trip to Nice. Now her hair came just above her shoulders and was styled neatly around her face, with a bit of a curl worked into the front. The large frames of her glasses had been replaced with small, cute rectangles. She was slimmer than she had been as a college girl, too, but she still had those luscious, wide hips that he’d loved to run his hands over. She was like the statue of a Greek goddess. He remembered squeezing her thick thighs as he climbed into her dorm room bed to make her squeal with delight. When she turned to dance by the table with her girlfriends, her flared skirt shifted and swung around her legs. He was maybe twenty feet away, but he could have sworn when she covered her mouth, he could heart that little giggle-snort of hers.
He felt a chill shoot up his spine. It was her. His Caitlyn.
Emrys’s attentions were now entirely spoken for. Over the next hour, he observed her every move, how she curled up onto one of the abstract chairs and removed one shining heel to massage the arch of her foot, how she stretched her arms over her head, as though some kink in her back pained her. She and her friends were simply out for a good time, clearly. They danced with one another, rather than seeking out other partners. One of them, a mocha-skinned woman shorter than Caitlyn, ventured over to speak to Nina, but for the most part, they weren’t as dedicated to stargazing as some of the party-goers clearly were.
None of these women would be flocking to his table for an autograph. As Caitlyn rose, Emrys unconsciously set his foot to the ground in anticipation. More than anything, he wanted to go to her, to touch her smooth cheek, to be the one to make her smile and laugh that awkward, lovely laugh of hers. Somehow, it seemed important that she reserve that laugh for him, in spite of everything. While many would have accused him of narcissism, he wasn’t a complete fool. Though it was promising that she’d come to one of his premieres, Caitlyn might not be particularly pleased to have him simply approach her table after all these years.
It would be better to have her come to him. If he could make sure that she saw him and that she was given reason to speak to him and the choice to do so, the conversation might go much more smoothly. He would certainly be more at his ease waiting for her approach.
With that thought, Emrys raised his hand to flag down the waitress.
***
“Pardon me, ladies,” a waitress said cheerfully. She held a shining pink bottle with a black top and an ace of spades emblazoned on the front. “The gentleman over there has bought a bottle of champagne for you: an Armand de Brignac. I think you’ll enjoy the notes of strawberry and black currant.”
“Oooh.” Jaina leaned over to see the gentleman that the waitress had indicated. “Oh my god! Baby, look!”
She jerked Melinda away from looking at the bottle and pointed. Caitlyn looked up as well, then shot up straight, and recoiled into her seat.
“That’s freakin’ Emrys Sébire!” Melinda laughed. “Aw, Caitlyn! It’s your boyfriend!”
“Oh, shut up.” Caitlyn crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Of all the people in the world who could possibly have sent them a bottle of wine, why did it have to be him?
Logically, it was his movie. Of course there had been a stray chance that he might have been at the party, but his part in the movie hadn’t even been all that substantial. When they’d been watching it, Caitlyn had even forgotten about him a few times. It was rollicking, brainless fun of exactly the kind Caitlyn needed whenever she was reminded of Emrys himself. What a pity he had to show up and ruin it.
While Caitlyn had been pulling a sour face at Emrys, who had simply given a smug little wave in return, Melinda and Jaina had already popped open the bottle and begun to pour out the fizzy concoction. Jaina lifted a flute to Caitlyn’s nose and waved it underneath. It smelled of strawberries, and Caitlyn’s frown began to melt.
Had Emrys remembered her fondness for strawberries? Was he teasing her, as he had years ago, about the color of her hair? Self-consciously, Caitlyn tucked a strand behind her ear.
“Don’t be a brat!” Melinda poured more into Jaina’s glass. “The man wants to spoil us. Let ‘im.”
Jaina leaned over, and Melinda lifted the flute to her lips.
Caitlyn bit her lip. If she tasted this champagne, would it be like accepting something from him? He’d broken her heart. He’d broken her. She had once been the kind of girl who believed in love. As a girl, she’d known that a happy ending would come to her, and as a young woman, when she’d met Emrys, she’d believed she had found him.
Instead he’d left her. He’d thrown her away as if what they’d had was nothing, and now what? He expected her to cheerfully down his expensive champagne? Was she supposed to come thank him? Fine.
Caitlyn stood and picked up her glass. She stared across the crowd at Emrys, who was perched at his table, looking ever so much like the privileged prince of Hollywood, as well as a minor European kingdom. She might have imagined it, but he seemed to tilt his head curiously. Once she was certain she had his eye, she drank the wine, slowly, letting the alcohol and the bubbles slide down her gullet and fuel the fire inside her. It was sweet and did have a pleasant aftertaste, but she did not pour another.
Instead, Caitlyn set the flute on the table. Imagining that the wine had made her hair burn brighter, she made her way over to Emrys’s table in long, determined strides and did not break his gaze. She would make him understand how deeply he’d cut her.
As she approached, his brows rose, and her heart thudded powerfully in her chest. She stopped in front of his table, looked into those dizzying blue eyes. She was unable to look away now. It was as though, having let herself step into his sphere once again, she was caught by his charming aura and wouldn’t ever be able to free herself willingly.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Emrys smiled and touched the tips of his index and middle finger to his temple. “My God. You have grown so beautiful over the years.”
“Th-thank you,” Caitlyn said meekly. She shook her head after a second. “For the champagne.”
“Did you enjoy it? I couldn’t tell from your expression.” He leaned forward to touch her hair. His fingers slid through it, and his eyes seemed to grow unfocused as he gazed at it.
Caitlyn stared back at him, speechless, soaking in his proximity. Finally, he was here, right in front of her, handsomer than ever. She wanted to both scream at him and nuzzle her face into his broad chest.
“Well?” Emrys looked up at her expectantly. He smiled again, looking so pleased with himself that suddenly her jaw tensed, and she wanted to smack him.
“Sorry,” she said dryly. “I was just so amazed that you could afford a bottle of wine like that, when the boy I knew couldn’t even pay for his own crepe off the
street.”
Emrys reared back, clearly offended. “I have my own income now.”
“I would have thought you’d have plenty of money, even then, but I can’t really speak to the economic welfare of Cabeau,” Caitlyn replied waspishly.
Emrys clicked his tongue. “I suppose in that vein I did owe you a bottle or two.”
“I honestly have no idea what that bottle cost, but you’ve definitely paid me back for the pastries and coffee.” Caitlyn put her hand on her hip. “Not so much for disappearing off the face of the planet without so much as an ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’”
Emrys’s cheeks began to burn red. “Now, listen—”
“You’re a coward, Emrys,” Caitlyn said plaintively as her face crumbled. “I thought you were my prince charming. Imagine my disappointment to find out that you were anything but.”
Caitlyn turned from him to rejoin her friends, but he caught her wrist swiftly.
“Let me go.”
“I never meant to disappoint you. I never meant any hurt to come to you.” His grip tightened.
“Emrys…”
“There were matters beyond my control. Understand this, and don’t leave me.”
“If you don’t mean to hurt me, let go of my wrist.”
Emrys dropped it immediately and then looked down as though surprised that his hand had held her fast. Caitlyn fought the urge to put distance between them, but how could she now? She had to know.
“What ‘matters’? What made it so impossible for you to answer a single call? An email?” Caitlyn shook her head and held her arms as she shrank back. “Emrys, you took my heart in your hand and crushed it.”
Emrys slowly dragged his tongue over his lower lip. “But you came over here to talk to me.”
“To thank you for the champagne,” she protested.
“Still. You were willing to come this far. Would it hurt you to spend a few more minutes of your time?” He stepped closer to her once more and this time took her hand gently. “To get reacquainted with an old friend?”
Caitlyn hesitated. She was torn between her dignity and his answers. And every moment she spent near him, her dignity lost a little more ground.
Emrys lifted his hand for the waitress and made a gesture. A moment later, she returned with another of the pink bottles.
“One drink, Cait. Don’t do it for me. Do it for that sweet, pigtailed girl by the Seine.” His voice had grown a bit husky. He was begging her. Even back then, he’d rarely begged. Emrys ordered. Now, he was simply gesturing to the free chair at his table.
“Well, she has been waiting a long time.” Caitlyn stepped past him, seated herself, and lifted her glass.
Chapter Three
Emrys watched Caitlyn’s face carefully as he began to speak. He’d suspected that if he could lure her to him, she might not be able to make herself leave. This worked in his advantage, though that was all the advantage he would be getting here. Now, she sipped at her wine, tilted her head to the side, and eyed him curiously. It was a bit uncomfortable to have her sharp green eyes turned on him. His discomfort was inevitable, he supposed. It was good after all this time to simply feel it, instead of waiting eternally with the guilt of knowing her hurt was out there somewhere, intangibly existing in the abstract.
“Well? Are you going to explain?” Caitlyn pressed.
“I’ll try. I’m not sure you can really understand what the pressures of being in line for a throne are like.”
“You left me because of stress?” She pursed her lips and held her flute to the side.
“No.” Emrys sat and folded his hands on the table. “I did study acting at Oxford. That much was true—”
“I know. It’s on your Wikipedia page. But you didn’t just say you studied there. You said you were from England.” Caitlyn set her glass down so hard that a little champagne spilled out. “Why did you lie? And why didn’t you just tell me at the end it had to be over? It would have still hurt, but it would have hurt a lot less!”
“I didn’t know, Cait.” Emrys pinned her down with his gaze.
“You didn’t know you weren’t English? I can’t help you with that.”
Emrys slapped his hand hard against the table. “Let me finish!”
Caitlyn jumped and straightened in her seat. “Do finish, Your Highness.”
Emrys looked upon the hardness of her face. It didn’t suit her. What suited her was the rosy flush of her cheek in excitement, breathless sighs on her lips, and stars in her eyes.
“At the time, I believed I could do as I liked. I could go train as an actor, I could live my life, I could love as I wished. I enjoyed being an ordinary man. But when I returned home that summer, my father told me that I was to be married.” Emrys spread his hands at Caitlyn’s expression of alarm. “She wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect either, believe me. Miranda had another man in her life at the time, but both of us were compelled by our parents to take our engagement seriously. They’d announced it before either of us had heard a word of it.”
“That’s awful. What, did you just arrive home to find yourself at an engagement party?” Caitlyn leaned forward curiously.
“Not quite so dramatic, but near to. I arrived to be told by my father what was to happen. And we went along with it for a time. Miranda and I both played our roles well enough.” Emrys sighed. “I was so deeply ashamed, my Caitlyn. How could I keep trying to love you when I knew I had to marry soon? How could I ask you to tolerate my marrying another?”
Caitlyn touched his hand.
“I had a choice, of course. I could have told him no. I should have.” Emrys lifted her hand to his lips. “In the end, Miranda was the strong one in our relationship. She called it off and told them that marrying me would be like marrying her cousin, and she wouldn’t do it.”
Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. She looked so terribly conflicted. Emrys needed to turn that conflict in his favor.
“After that, I couldn’t bring myself to ask your forgiveness. We hadn’t spoken for nearly two years.”
“The joke’s on you, I guess,” Caitlyn managed in a thick voice. “I would have taken you back, even then.”
“And now?”
“I…I don’t know. I’ve spent so much time putting myself back together.” Caitlyn pulled back her hand, but Emrys held her fast. “What do I do? I can’t survive it again, Emrys. What happens if I forgive you, only to have another set of ‘matters’ come up?”
Emrys stroked her hand with his fingers. “I’ll have to work my hardest to earn back your trust.”
“How can you?” Caitlyn shook her head. “You’re an actor. And not a terrible one, in spite of the movie I just saw.”
Emrys laughed. “I’ll have to show you my deleted scenes. There was a whole plot cut from this one.”
“Well. Gotta make room for that drag race in the middle that made no narrative sense.”
“This is true.” Emrys topped off his champagne glass. “You must understand my position. I’m comfortable with what I earn as an actor, but my trust fund doesn’t mature for years yet. My father has seen to that.”
“He’s still annoyed with you for not marrying that Miranda,” Caitlyn guessed.
“Very. I’m allowed home, of course, but I’m quite independent. This is the cost.”
Caitlyn bowed her head slightly, then took a sip of the champagne. She seemed to be pondering his words deeply when their solitude was intruded upon by her friends appearing by their table.
“Hey! Look who’s a fan now!” said one, squeezing Caitlyn’s shoulders.
Caitlyn sneered back at her friend.
Emrys smiled and rose to speak to them. He turned on every bit of charm he had as he gave them a bow and answered their questions about the movie. One of them was so astonished that he didn’t actually have an American accent that she seemed to nearly fall over (though it may have been due to the champagne).
Amidst the flurry of giggles and friendly banter about Cait’s heel-turn reg
arding her feelings on his acting, her feelings did seem to be growing softer, and she smiled more, bit by bit.
***
“Come out with me,” Emrys urged Caitlyn, and she felt her breath hitch inside of her. “It’s my last night in town.”
The result was inevitable, Caitlyn supposed. She’d needed and wanted to reconnect with him for so long that she simply had to try, even if she hadn’t yet forgiven him. Caitlyn found herself giving Melinda a hug goodbye before following Emrys out of the party and to his car. It was an ice blue BMW, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers along the spotless hood.
“I can’t believe you have this.” Caitlyn shook her head and looked over to Emrys, taking in his crisp suit. “I can’t believe you’re wearing that.”
Emrys trailed his fingers down the front of his jacket. “Oh?”
“You never wore suits before,” Caitlyn pointed out. “You hardly ever wore pants without holes in them. I never thought I’d see you so dressed up.”
Emrys clicked his tongue. “My manager would have my head if I came to promotional events in ripped up jeans and a vintage vest. I’m a bit old to be dressing like I’m homeless, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know about that.” Caitlyn leaned back against the car and smoothed her hand over side of the hood. “I’ve seen plenty of pictures of fairly famous and sinfully rich actors who dress like they just rolled out of a dumpster.”
“It’s not my brand, Cait.” Emrys gestured one hand in the air. “I’m ‘quality.’”
“I don’t think that’s what your brand speaks to.” Caitlyn wrinkled her nose in amusement and shook her head. “I think it’s ‘naked.’”
Emrys’s brow furrowed in anger, just for a moment, but then he laughed low and deep in his throat.
“Maybe it is.” He came to her side and put his hand beside hers on the car. “You like this car, do you?”
“I’m just attracted to shiny pieces of equipment. You should see me in an Apple store.”
“Is that so? I wondered if you continued on with your plan.”
Caitlyn nodded and shrugged. “That’s me. Freelance web designer. I do the websites for a lot of small businesses.”
