After four months, his phone was still on, which told me he was alive. It was a small comfort, but I took it. He was lost, abandoned and angry, and probably searching for answers.
Someone had set the Kennedy’s seaside retreat alight on Christmas Day. A house that was supposed to be safe; hidden and owned under a different name. Why? I didn’t know, and neither did Jesse. Maybe that’s what he was trying to find. God, I wished I was there to help him.
“Mr Mason?”
“What?!” I snapped, with handfuls of hair in my closed fists as I say curled over my desk. I saw Angelica standing in the doorway and composed myself. “Sorry, Angelica. What do you need?”
“I wondered if you’d had a chance to look over the proposals Yusef sent in last week.” She knotted her fingers in front of her and looked down at her feet. “He’s asking for them. I can tell him you’re not done yet.”
“No,” I said, halting her as she began to turn to leave. “I’ll take a look. What are they?”
She moved to the desk and scoured the surface. She frowned. I had stuff everywhere. All my filing boxes were jammed full of letters, meaningless or important, I had no idea. A couple of coffee cups laid on forgotten print-outs; ringbinders were piled up high on the far corner of the desk.
“I can't see them. I brought them in with the mail a few weeks ago.”
“Weeks?”
“Yes, sir. You’ve been…distracted.”
“I have,” I sighed, knowing Jesse would kick my ass if he were here. “Sorry. This place is a mess.”
“I’ve got some time. I’ll help you sort it out.” She reached for the ringbinders.
“You sure?” She nodded. “Thanks.”
“You got it, boss. The proposals were in an orange wallet. Blue sticker, I think. Blue is for prospective clients.”
“Christ, you are organised.”
“One of us has to be.” She winked and I smiled for the first time in weeks. “I’ll get this stuff onto the system. Have your pen ready; I’ll just come in with things for you to sign.”
I shook my head in amazement. I got lucky when Charlie hired Angelica.
I flicked through the piles of stuff on my desk; even takeout pizza menus and junk mail had made it. I tossed it away quickly and carefully sifted through the remaining papers. I found the orange wallet quickly; it stood out against the neglected mail, most of which was white. As I opened the wallet, a silver-grey envelope slipped out and fell to the floor with a thud. I scowled at it. It was small; I assumed it was an old Christmas card, but when I leaned over and picked it up, it was heavier than a simple card with an impersonal message scrawled inside. It was addressed to Curtis. Just Curtis. I flipped it over – it was sealed with an embossed white rose sticker. I slipped my finger beneath the flap and popped it open, pulling out what was inside. It was a white card; the front was split down the middle and, like the sticker on the front, an embossed white rose sat in one corner, and it was held shut by a silver ribbon that wrapped itself around the middle. I tugged on the bow gently and dropped the ribbon to the floor, opening the card to reveal the inside. A plum chandelier design decorated the centre page, swirling around the wording that I read three times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
Jack Turner and Bethany Jones
Request the honour of your presence at their wedding.
Sunday April 20th, 2014 at 2pm
At
The Lime Wood Hotel, Hampshire
Reception will follow after the ceremony
I pulled out the sheet attached to the card and read the accommodation and travel information, and directions. I looked at the date for the fourth time and scrambled to pick up the phone that connected me to Angelica.
“Did you find them?” she answered.
“What? Oh, yeah, I got them. Angelica, has anyone been in the office to deliver a card?”
She hummed, “Yes. I did tell you. You weren’t here when she came in.”
“She?”
“Yes. She said she wanted to make sure you got it and didn’t have a home address for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The line was thick with silence for a beat. “I did, Mr Mason.”
“Christ.” I squeezed the back of my neck, a sudden unbearable tension moving in. I stood up and begin tidying up what I could. “I need you to tell Yusef he’ll have to wait for me to read the proposals. Book me a room at the Lime Wood Hotel for the weekend. And a room at the nearest hotel to it.”
“The Lime Wood?” she interrupted. “I know it. I can almost guarantee it will be fully booked.”
“Do whatever you have to do to secure a room. And find somewhere nearby to buy a suit. Give them my measurements and pay with the company card.”
“Is there a reason for the haste, Mr Mason?”
I ignored her question. “It needs to be ready for collection by five today. If you need to pay extra, do it. Just get me that suit.”
“Yes, Mr Mason.”
“I’m leaving now. Text me the details when you’ve done it.”
“Yes, Mr Mason.”
I hung up and rushed to get my things together; then I leaned over the desk and called her back.
“Yes, Mr Mason?”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
I was frantic. I sped along the M4, constantly glancing at the clock on the dashboard, and banged my palms on the steering wheel when the traffic stopped at a standstill. I connected the in-car Bluetooth and called the office.
“I’m still working on it,” Angelica sighed in exasperation when she picked up.
“Are you at your desk?”
“I am. Is everything okay?”
“Pull up the traffic news. What’s happening on the M4?”
She tapped her keyboard and clicked her mouse. My nerves intensified a million times over. I couldn’t wait and let fate do its thing. It had been fucking me over my entire life. It was time to fuck it back. I twisted my hands on the wheel and growled, growing impatient.
“There’s a collision a little further up from where you are. Traffic news is anticipating a two hour wait while the services clear the scene.”
“Is there an alternative route?”
“It’s already on its way to your satnav.”
“You’re an angel. Thank you.”
I indicated, pushed my way through and eased onto the slip road, getting the hell off the M4.
Angelica worked her magic, securing me a suite at the Lime Wood, and a hotel on the outskirts of town. Not only had she ordered me a suit, but two, and new underwear and clothes for the weekend. I didn’t check into the hotel right away. I couldn’t risk being seen. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I had to see Skye, even if I watched her from afar. I had to make sure she was okay. I got changed in the hotel in town and left, in the black suit and tie Angelica had ordered. She was a smart woman, ordering me an entirely black get-up. She knew I wanted to stay hidden. There was no time to worry about why she thought my motives were anything but innocent. I left half of my clothes in the room, took the other half and shoved them in the boot of my car before heading to The Lime Wood.
Thirty Seven
Magic
April 19th, 2014
It was dark when I arrived at the hotel and checked in so I could gain access to the gardens. I stayed on the outside, edging slowly through the bar to get outside. The bandstand gave me a perfect vantage point; I could see the entire open back of the ground floor of the hotel, and the New Forest Accommodation – where the wedding party was staying, not far in the distance. I could see through the windows of the exclusive hotel within a hotel. Men stood around drinking and talking; they were too far away to make out faces, but there were no women. No Skye. I couldn’t see any evidence of her and my heart sank. I just wanted to see her, in the flesh, beyond the picture on the Poise website. The one I looked at every day until it was replaced by the photo of another, signalling her departure. The trail went
cold. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I had to find her tonight.
I knew she was here, I could feel it. I figured I could explore the surroundings and find a different spot to spy from. Shit, I sounded crazy. I was crazy. I knew I was, but I didn’t care anymore. I was at breaking point, ready to snap; on the verge of storming into the hotel and taking hostages until someone brought Skye to me. As I took a step forward, something inside me sparked to life. My sight had never been so vivid, my hearing so clear; my sense of smell so consumed by the scent of hope. I knew she was here. Close. Getting closer. I stayed in the dark and scanned the area.
I saw her, stepping out into the garden.
I wasn’t sure if my heart stopped or if I had been in cardiac arrest for eleven years and the presence of Skye had just brought me back to life.
All I knew was my body, my mind, my soul propelled me back to when I was twenty-five and seeing her for the first time all over again. It was instantaneous. Again. The need to live, to breathe, to exist because of her. For her. It was as if everything I’d felt all these years without her dulled into nothingness. Meaningless. Void. She was here. I was here. The overwhelming compulsion to go to her was the strongest thing I’d ever felt in my life; and it had been empty without her for far too long. I stepped back as she closed the distance between us, as if whatever was bringing her closer to me was as uncontrollable as my need to go to her.
The trunk of a tree hit my back and, satisfied I was hidden, I watched her. The breeze swirled around her, fanning out the bottom of her dress and catching her soft locks. She looked like an angel; untouchable but magnetic. Hypnotic. She was standing on the platform, her small hands caressing the railing. She inhaled deeply and her eyes rolled back before she closed them.
She wasn’t an angel. She wasn’t a dream; she was real, and swept up in the same mystical energy that had me fixated on her. My foot took a step without permission, but I didn’t have the power to stop it. I emerged from the trees and stepped into her aura; my entire body felt like it was floating, like I was on a cloud, a million miles from the world that had me imprisoned, sentenced to a life behind its bars. I felt like I did when I was with Skye and she was mine. I felt whole; like I’d come home.
Her eyes shot open and locked with mine. They stole my breath away. They were the same golden colour they had always been and I felt like the sun was rising out of the darkness. They were so full of life, yet void of full consciousness, and I knew she had been transported with me, back to a time when we knew each other.
She didn’t move when I continued to approach her. She stood still and waited, giving up the control, the fight, like I had. She turned to me as I stopped opposite her and leaned back on the railing. She was like a wild horse; one sudden move and I’d lose her. This was my only chance. The one I’d been waiting years for. I’d been chasing her for too long. Now it was time to let her come to me.
Her eyes remained fixed on mine, with no hint of recognition, or rejection. Her foot slid forward and her body followed. Her step was reluctant, hesitant, but she took another, and another; each of the following five steps became more confident, more driven.
The atmosphere was thick, charged; it sparked and almost rumbled with fated purpose. She stopped inches from me, her chest rising and falling with each forced breath taken. I was frozen, afraid she’d seen me, not by name and with no remembrance of our past, but for me. Who I was now. A monster lost in the abyss and reaching for impossible retribution. My body trembled and my mind clouded. Our surroundings disappeared until we were standing, levitating, in mid-air. One more deep breath from Skye. She was waiting. I tried not to give in, to make another selfish act; I tried to make her make the choice, but I couldn’t lose her again. I wouldn’t allow it.
I reached out and took her hand in mine. She clasped my fingers tightly and needed little encouragement to take the final step. The one that would bring us the closest we’d been for over a decade.
Her soft, warm body met mine and I was suddenly acutely aware of the harshness of my build – I was set like stone, the mental walls I’d built reflecting in the concrete body I lived in. As her warmth surrounded me, the tension evaporated from my body. I thawed like I’d been on ice, waiting for a miracle resurrection.
I looked at her lips, pink and plump like I remembered them, as she edged closer and I waited, holding my breath to keep the roar of desperation contained. Her lips met mine so softly, I wasn’t sure if it really happened. My hands settled on her hips and as her lips slid over mine, she took my soul. She took it and replaced it with hers until I didn’t know which part of me was me, and which was her. We were one. One person. Two bodies. Whole. Her hands slid up my chest and my heart leapt, my hands instantly raising to cover hers, drawing the life I needed from the only hands that had ever known me.
Her tongue sneaked out and caught my top lip; I opened willingly, letting her in to explore, reacquaint; rescue me from where I’d been dormant since the right to take her kisses had been taken away. Since I’d given it away.
Her hands fisted my shirt, my heart thumped frantically against her. Her body rose as she tiptoed to give herself to me. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her body flush to mine. Every inch of her was melded to me and I didn’t ever want to move. Ever. She was content in my arms, sighing as my tongue swiped hers and caught her lip. She tasted like Heaven; I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t died and been granted a day pass through the golden gates.
I cupped her face, twisting my fingers in her hair as it whipped freely around us, surrounding me with the scent I’d been dreaming of forever. Her arms wrapped around my neck. She pressed into me with more urgency. She wanted to be consumed as much as I wanted to consume her. I wanted to feel everything – every thought, everything she felt; right down to the pulse in her wrist that pumped against my neck. I tore my lips from hers, my body missing the contact before a second had passed. I peppered kisses on her forehead, over her nose, down her cheek and along her jaw. Skye tipped her head back and I pressed my mouth to her neck, teasing her, tasting her with flicks of my tongue and gentle grazes with my teeth. She sighed and shuddered, moaned and held me to her harder. Her nails dug into my shoulder and I growled, struggling to stay in control.
“Skye?”
There was a voice in the distance, far away and unwelcome.
“Skye?”
It was closer this time, too close for comfort, and I pulled away from Skye, watching her return from our sanctuary.
“Skye? Are you out here?”
She gasped, but one hand gripped my jacket as she turned in the direction of the voice.
No.
I tried to pull away but she was frozen, paralysed, with her fingers clamped around the opening of my jacket. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I stood just behind her, waiting to be caught. To be thrown out of the hotel. To be rejected.
And then her grip loosened as Beth came into view, dressed in a silk robe that barely reached her knees, with her hair pulled up in big tube things. She had her arms crossed and was frantically searching for Skye.
Skye’s hands fell to her sides and I made my exit, edging back into the trees and watching the two sisters together.
“You okay?” Beth asked, stepping up onto the platform and approaching Skye with caution.
“Yes.” Skye was breathless, her voice weak.
“What are you doing out here?”
She reached forward and rubbed the tops of her arms. Skye flinched, then shivered. She was cold; I’d kept her outside in the cold.
“I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted some air.”
“Still can't sleep?” Beth curled her arm around her and began to lead her off the ledge; Skye stopped at the bottom of the steps and stepped away from Beth.
Her reaction surprised me; she wasn’t shocked or offended. She expected the coolness from the woman who had always been so warm.
“Come back in, okay?”
I saw Skye’s hair bounce as she nodded and Beth
hesitated before taking a few steps back, turning around and returning to the house she’d come from.
Skye turned, lifting her fingertips to her lips as she faced me. They were swollen beautifully, evidence of our kiss. The flush on her cheeks made my heart clench. She was so pale. She was looking at me, without even realising her eyes were on me. Her fingers moved down to caress her neck, where my lips had been.
She knew.
Thirty Eight
Fate.
April 20th, 2014
I woke up tangled in luxurious bedding as it smothered me in loneliness. The queen-sized bed and the suite it laid in was designed for couples. From the large bed, to the two armchairs that sat by the door that opened out onto a view of the gardens; to the two bath towels that were set on the foot of the bed when I tumbled into the room in a daze, and were now crumpled on the floor; to the double sink in the gold-plated bathroom, everything was designed to accommodate a couple. And I was here alone.
I heaved myself out of bed and ordered a coffee and breakfast with room service before stepping out onto the balcony. A warm April shower sent a misty sheet of rain over the garden; the bandstand was surrounded by a fog of backsplash as the raindrops hit the steepled roof, ran down and dripped off onto the floor.
There would be no wedding in the garden today. The moment Skye and I had on the bandstand would be protected, safe from having its memory tarnished by the matrimony of her sister. Did I feel bad? No. I didn’t. Last night was all I had of Skye and I wanted the memory of it untouched. I answered the door to the woman from the room service and she wheeled the trolley in, placing it by the dining table set for two.
“What’s happening with the wedding today?” I asked, pointing to the open door where stray raindrops began to soak into the carpet.
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