by Holly Rayner
He'd told me before I'd drifted off to sleep that he would have to leave early the next morning, so I wasn't surprised to wake without him next to me. I was, however, surprised to find a note and a single white peony lying on the pillow. It was written in the same uniform cursive as his last note:
Ashlynn,
Nothing is harder than waking up next to your beautiful face and leaving. But leave I must. I will see you at the track later today. Good luck with your performance, though I know you don't need it.
Love, Julien
P.S. For opera singers, it is “good luck” or “break a leg”?
I pressed the note and flower to my chest and fell back against the downy pillows, not sure it was possible to be happier.
The same man as before led me to the stage in the center of the track, and this time, the crowd was even more deafening in their passionate applause. I could hear people shouting my name and screaming. I’d never received this kind of reception before. It was bizarre.
I waved and introduced myself, though I wasn't positive anyone could hear me over the roar of the crowd. Julien had won the first heat and Alain had won the second by a few tenths of a second, meaning the anticipation for the final heat was insane.
When the music started, the noise faded to a dull roar and then to near-silence as I began to sing. I put everything I had into the performance, pouring my heartaches and triumphs out for a stadium full of strangers. As the first song ended and the music transitioned into the next piece, I scanned the crowd and track.
In the seating section just across from the stage, I saw the brunette Geneviève had pointed out to me as one of Julien’s previous flings at the after-party. A jealousy inside of me rose up, but I squashed it back down. I couldn’t be jealous of every woman he had once been with. I couldn’t control his past, but I could be a part of his future.
He’d made it pretty clear the night before that, in some capacity, he wanted me in his life. That was enough for me.
I spotted a few of the other women in the same section, Geneviève included, sporting a T-shirt with Alain’s face on it. But I did my best to avoid focusing on the section, and instead set my eyes on the track. As soon as I saw Julien looking up at me, enjoying my performance, that would be all the reassurance I needed.
I found him instantly. He was standing next to his car, zipping himself into his black race suit. Even from so far away, I couldn’t get over how handsome he was.
And then, my attention expanded a few more feet and I noticed the line of women standing next to him. They were all dressed in cheerleader-type outfits. Spandex shorts, crop-tops, ponytails perched high on their heads. The first woman in line was leaning forward, lips puckered. Julien smiled and leaned down to offer his cheek. She kissed him and then skipped away as though she’d just won a prize.
My voice faltered, but I quickly looked away, trying to focus on my performance. With every word, my voice became weaker. The power behind it was gone, stolen away when I saw Julien flirting with a row of women right in front of me. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. My vision blurred, and I wasn’t sure whether it was from tears or anger.
He’d apologized to me on the yacht the night before. He’d told me he was sorry for what had happened at the after-party, and I’d assumed he’d meant that he was sorry for deserting me and flirting with other women.
But if he really was sorry, would he let these other women kiss him right in front of me? Especially after the night we’d shared? If it had really meant anything to him, I didn’t think he’d be capable of something like this.
With every second that passed, I could feel myself losing grip of my performance. I needed to end it before somebody recorded it and I became an internet sensation: “Opera Singer Loses It Onstage: Click to See Her Meltdown.”
I had two more verses and a chorus to get through, but I knew my voice wouldn’t last that long. My vocal chords were already straining against a tightening in my throat. I had to cut it short. I turned around towards the stands behind me, the crowd cheering as I showed them some attention, and tried to get through one more solid verse. I was singing an Italian love song and every word of it felt false. In the last few minutes, I’d become a cynic.
Spending the night with him had been foolish. I’d been right to tip backwards into the ocean. That was better than the way I felt, now—foolish and used and ashamed.
I finished the verse, and even though the music played on, I stopped singing and took a lightning-fast bow. The music cut to silence a few seconds later, but I was already running down the stairs. The man who had escorted me to the stage was wide-eyed and confused, but he offered me his arm anyway. I waved him away and moved past him. I wanted out of the stadium as quickly as possible. I needed to get away.
I knew my exit from the stadium had been less than ideal and had certainly drawn the attention of Julien, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even look in his direction as I left. For all I knew, he hadn’t even noticed I’d stopped singing.
Chapter 17
Julien
Because I was the expected champion, a crowd of women were standing around my car before the race began. They were all paid to rally behind the racers and encourage the crowd, but for whatever reason, they had decided it would be a better use of their time to fight over who could give me a good-luck kiss. I tried to smile and be cordial—mostly for the fans watching in the stadium—but there was only one woman I wanted a kiss from.
Ashlynn had been sleeping soundly when I’d left. Her hand had been curled under her cheek, golden curls tumbling around her face. And they weren’t the wavy curls I was used to seeing—the curls that were tamed by time and equipment and hair products. No, these were her natural curls. Tight ringlets born from her spill over the deck of the yacht. I’d wondered if I would ever look at her and see anything other than perfection. And then, I’d had to leave.
It was crazy that in just a few weeks, Ashlynn had become so important to me. For years, the FP100 had meant everything to me. It was the only thing that truly mattered. I’d spent all year preparing for the race. But rolling out of bed that morning and heading to the stadium for the final race had been the last thing I’d wanted to be doing. I would have much rather forfeited, allowing Alain to have the win he’d always craved, and stayed in bed with Ashlynn.
Still, hearing her beautiful voice over the speakers and watching a stadium full of people fall in love with her the way I had was a pretty good substitute. Even being pestered by a line of overly peppy women couldn’t ruin my high.
Ashlynn wanted to be with me just as much as I wanted to be with her. She’d made that clear last night. And I knew it seemed crazy, but I was already planning our future together. I had plenty of money for the both of us, but Ashlynn would still be able to make a fortune performing all over Monte Carlo and Europe. Her voice was amazing, and after the publicity singing at the race would bring, it wouldn’t be difficult for her to find gigs.
We could be happy together. My playboy reputation would finally be put to rest, and together, we could build a life that we could both be proud of.
One of the women leaned towards me, lips puckered, and I just wanted her to go away so I could listen to Ashlynn. I leaned down and let her kiss my cheek. She giggled and scampered away, and the next woman in line said she wanted one, as well, but I told them I had a sufficient amount of luck and they should go kiss Alain’s cheeks.
I turned back to Ashlynn, but in the few seconds I’d looked away, something had shifted. Ashlynn seemed stiff, rooted to the same spot, eyes empty and looking straight ahead. Her voice grew harsh. Not significantly, but enough to guess that something was wrong. When she stopped singing before the music had ended, and ran off stage, it was all I could do not to chase after her and find out what was wrong.
I made it a rule not to carry my cellphone with me on race days, so I couldn’t call her. Part of me worried that she’d seen the women standing around me, but after the night we�
��d shared, certainly she would know those women meant nothing to me.
Right?
Ashlynn had disappeared into the door that led beneath the stadium, but I continued staring at the last place I’d seen her, wishing I could talk to her. I didn’t want to wait hours until the race was over. Even though I wanted to believe that Ashlynn felt as confident in our bond as I did, I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I didn’t go after her, there was a chance I’d lose her forever.
“Racers, make your final preparations. The third and final heat of the FP100 will begin in sixty seconds.” The announcer’s voice echoed in the air for several seconds after he finished speaking.
My fists were clenched at my sides. I was desperate for just five more minutes. Enough time to chase after her, beg her to wait for me, and then compete the race.
The announcer repeated the final call for the race to begin. I kicked my shoe into the concrete, slammed on my helmet, and dropped into the driver’s seat of my car.
Let the race begin.
Chapter 18
Ashlynn
The roads around the stadium were packed with cars, and I had to walk several blocks before I could hail down a cab. The driver asked me where I was headed, and then promptly turned around and didn’t speak to me again. I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t talk to a crying woman in a ball gown, either.
I’d been vulnerable with Julien. I’d given myself over to him, and what had it gotten me? A shattered heart and a performance that would forever go down as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
After my failed marriage to Jonathan, my confidence had taken a major hit. I hadn’t known if I’d ever date again, let alone love. But then Julien had appeared, and he’d made the answer seem obvious. Of course, I could love again. Of course, I could feel safe with a man. He was encouraging and supportive and kind. He was the man I’d always imagined being with as a little girl, but in real life. He had seemed perfect.
Unfortunately, a lot of other women thought he was perfect, as well. And Julien, apparently, wasn’t able to resist their allure. I knew I couldn’t compete with them. Julien was perfect. Aside from his terrible singing voice, he was a successful businessman and entrepreneur and sports star. It made sense that he would be with an equally talented woman. Yet, I’d allowed myself to think he could settle with only me and be happy. I’d tricked myself into falling for him, only to fall flat on my face.
When the cab pulled up in front of the hotel, I threw a wad of money at the driver, not bothering to count the bills, and the driver didn’t seem overly concerned with exact change, either. He was probably just glad to get the sobbing woman out of his backseat.
The moment I walked through the door to my hotel room, I began throwing my things into my suitcase. My flight back to the United States had been rebooked for that night, but after the night I’d spent with Julien on his yacht, I’d stupidly decided I didn’t need to pack.
Surely, he’d ask me to stay longer. He’d invited me onto his yacht with the promise of seeing where our relationship could go. And after our romantic night together, I’d assumed our relationship was headed towards something long-term. Clearly, I’d been wrong.
I balled up dirty clothes and gathered my hair products and makeup once more into my arms and dropped everything haphazardly into the suitcase. I just needed to pack up and get out of his hotel. I’d rather spend all evening waiting at the airport than sitting in the hotel room, wondering when and if Julien would come looking for me.
I was sitting on top of my poorly packed suitcase, trying desperately to yank the zipper closed, when I heard the distant roar of a race car. I assumed I was hearing the race being played on a nearby television, but then, the sound grew louder and louder. Finally, the windows to my room were rattling with the noise, and I left my suitcase unzipped to go look outside.
I was in a side wing of the hotel with a window that looked out over the semi-circular driveway and the courtyard, so when I looked out my window, I had a crystal-clear view of Julien’s race car parked in front of the hotel.
I stared at the image, trying to understand what was going on. The race was happening at that very moment, so there was no way it could really be Julien. Perhaps, a massive fan of his had recreated his car, and I was looking at a very convincing replica. I watched the driver’s side door like a hawk, waiting for the driver to step out, but no one did, and the windows were tinted so I couldn’t see inside.
Then, there were several loud knocks on my door. I spun around, eyes wide, already shaking my head.
No, it couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t have quit the race. It was the final heat.
“Ashlynn, please open the door. Please.”
I walked towards the door in a daze, as if I was sleepwalking.
When I opened it, Julien stood before me in his full race suit, save for his helmet. His face was flushed, and he was breathless. But he let out a sigh of relief when I opened the door.
“Thank God you’re still here.” He pushed past me and walked into my room, not even waiting to be invited in. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. “What is going on? What happened back there?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and bit my lip. “Why aren’t you racing?”
“Because I didn’t know if you’d still be here when I finished!” he said, practically shouting. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I just don’t understand what happened. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, not entirely convinced this was true. I didn’t know what was true anymore. Everything felt mixed-up and confusing.
He moved across the room before I could react, grabbed me by the shoulders, and gently directed me to the bed, forcing me to sit down. Then, he knelt in front of me, his hands wrapped around mine.
“Ashlynn, what is the matter?”
The tenderness in his voice and his touch undid me. The pride I was holding onto, the anger and jealousy I’d been feeling. All of it just washed away in a fresh flood of tears.
Julien pulled me against his chest and rubbed my back. “Talk to me.”
With my head on his shoulder, I told him about my conversation with Geneviève at the party.
“She told me that you two used to date—”
“I ended things. It was never serious,” he said, interjecting. “Sorry, continue.”
“She said that the two of you used to date, and then she pointed out all the women at the party you’d been with before. She told me that you enjoyed new, shiny things, but couldn’t commit. She told me to enjoy my time with you while it lasted, because it wouldn’t last long.”
Julien groaned, his lips pulled into a flat line. “I can’t believe she said that to you and I didn’t know. I should have assumed she’d try to hurt you.”
I continued, wanting to get the whole story out before I lost my courage.
“I saw all the women at the party. They were all beautiful and talented, and I didn’t see how I could compete with that. I realized that you could never want a washed-up divorcee like me.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I hadn’t told Julien I was divorced. And when I did decide to tell him, it wouldn’t have happened like that. I would have explained the circumstances, told him how young we were when we’d started dating and then got married. I would have given it context.
However, he didn’t react as I’d expected. He blinked a few times and then nodded, encouraging me to continue.
“Despite Geneviève’s warning, I knew I was falling for you, so I tried to pull away. I didn’t want to get pulled in any further if I was just going to be tossed to the wayside when you were done with me. But then you showed up here at my room and you convinced me to stay. From that point on, there was no going back for me. No matter what Geneviève said, I realized that I liked you a lot, and I wanted to be with you. Especially after last night.”
My face was burning with the memory
of his body next to mine, of his fingers curling around mine and twisting above our heads.
By the time I finished talking, the tears had stopped, and I was sitting up, looking into Julien’s eyes. He grabbed my hands and brought them to his lips, pressing a long kiss to my knuckles.
“Stay with me,” he whispered against my fingers. “Stay with me another night. Let me show you who I really am. I know there are a lot of rumors about me. Everyone thinks they know me because they read about me online and hear secondhand stories from women I’ve been on dates with, but I’m asking you to forget what Geneviève or anyone else said. Let me show you who I am and who I want to be.”
I looked down at the floor. I wasn’t sure I could do it again. Another night with Julien would be the end of me. At least if I left right then, I knew I’d be able to salvage my dignity. But if I stayed with him another night, there would be no going back. I’d never recover.
Julien must have sensed my hesitation.
“These past few days with you have been some of the best of my life, Ashlynn. I’m not ready to lose you. Please. Let me show you how good things between us can be.”
Part of me hated how easy it was for him to talk me down. A few pretty words and a smile or two and I turned to jelly.
It wasn’t just manipulation, though. I believed him. The look in his eyes, the defeated posture of his shoulders. He was as invested in the two of us as I was. If he really wasn’t interested in me, he could have turned tail and ran as soon as I’d mentioned my divorce. But he hadn’t. He was still fighting for me. Still fighting for us. And I didn’t want to be the person who gave up on what could be a good thing. Perhaps, a great thing.
I pulled my hand out of his grip and wiped at my eyes, knowing I probably had mascara dripping down my cheeks like a crazy person. “Okay.”
