by T L Swan
He blows into the hot coffee in his cup as he contemplates saying something. I can hear his brain ticking from here. “I go away next Wednesday,” he tells me casually.
“Where to?”
“America.”
“For how long?” I ask.
“Indefinitely.”
“Oh.” My face falls.
He puts his coffee down onto the counter. “Don’t give me that face.”
I frown. “What face?”
“That disappointed face.”
I push out a forced smile and sip my coffee. I’m not sure what to say. I knew this was coming to an end all along. “So… you wont be back at all?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t think so.” His eyes hold mine as if waiting for me to drop to the floor and cry or something.
“What about Fraidy?” I ask. “Who will feed him?”
“I have someone coming in to mind the house.”
Oh shit, he really is going. “Oh,” is the most intelligent reply I can muster.
He smiles, seemingly relieved at my nonchalance of this new knowledge.
My eyes drop to the floor. This is why he wanted to end it. He knew that he was leaving. Why did I sabotage myself and say I wanted casual? I should have ended it that day in the café when he told me he wasn’t married.
I fake a smile. “Who are you going with?”
“Thomas.”
“Sounds fun. Where are you going exactly?” I ask.
“All over.”
I nod as I look at my watch. I don’t know what to say without revealing my sadness. I want to get the hell out of here. “We should probably get going. I’m going to be late for work.” I stand.
He stands, seemingly unsure of what I’m thinking as he watches me intently. “We still have a week together.”
“Great,” I reply, deadpan. Stop it. Act cool.
He wraps his large warm arms around me and holds me tight, and finally I surrender. I put my arms around his neck and kiss him gently.
“Stay with me for the week,” he whispers against my lips.
I frown.
“Let’s go to your place, get your things, and you can come and stay with me for the week.” I pull out of his grip and shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but thanks for the offer.”
“Why not?”
“Twinkle.” I sigh. “I’m...” I hesitate. Should I just come out and say it? “I’m a little too attached to you already. Me staying here will only make it worse when you go.”
He smiles a broad genuine smile as his arms slink around my behind and he pulls me back to his body. “This is where we make the memories that you will look back on in twenty years, remember?”
I smirk.
“One week together and then we go our separate ways. Like you said, we have an affection for each other and we can look back with fondness.”
His lips drop to my neck.
“No,” I breathe into the back of his head.
He bites me and I smile.
He grabs me and lays me back over the bench. “Will you stop it?” I giggle.
“Give me my week.”
“I said no.” I laugh as he continues his attack on my senses.
“I’m working tomorrow night and you can come and watch me shoot. You can be my glamorous assistant.” I smile, that does sound fun, actually.
“And then I have a work dinner on Friday night and you can be my date.” He tries once more to sweeten the deal. His voice is muffled as his lips refuse to leave my skin.
The truth is, he doesn’t have to sweeten the deal at all. I already know I want to see him, but I also know I’m swimming into dangerous, unchartered waters. I am much more attached to us than I should be. I shouldn’t be craving his touch or his time outside of the bedroom. This is meant to be casual sex, not required intimacy.
I pull out from under him and kiss his lips. “Thank you for the offer, but no. We can go out on the weekend before you go if you like?”
His face falls, but he nods once. “Okay.” He turns and grabs the keys and my heart drops. He’s disappointed.
“Have you got everything?” he asks.
“I just have to get my bag from upstairs.”
“Okay.”
I turn and walk upstairs, into his bedroom, and I take one last look around at the luxury space. I make the bed with the ridiculously expensive bed linen and walk into the bathroom to pick up the fluffy towels that we left on the floor after our lovemaking and shower this morning. My eyes glance over at the shower and I get a visual reminder of what we would have looked like making love up against the tiles on the wall.
Our lips locked, his hands all over me, his body inside of mine.
I don’t want to go.
I want to stay with him for the week.
I walk over to the thick, expensive drapes and pull them back to look out onto the street below. Am I strong enough to give him the week, knowing that I have to let him go at the end of it?
I already think I know the answer.
Why did I have to meet him? Why is he asking me to stay?
This is where we make memories that we look back on, remember?
His words cross through my mind and I smile.
Maybe Alastar Twinkle is going to be just that: a beautiful thing that happened in London.
A beautiful thing that I will regret if I don’t explore it.
I always said I don’t want any regrets in life. Will I regret this?
I will. I know I will.
But what will I regret more? Doing this and missing him when he goes, or knowing I could have spent more time with him when I had the chance and I turned it down because of fear.
I blow out a deep, sad breath just as his arms slip around me from behind. His lips go to my temple as he stares out to the street below with me.
“Please. Give me the week,” he breathes.
We stand still for a moment as we stare out the window, both lost in our own thoughts.
I turn and kiss him softly, my tongue dusting his lips, asking for approval to enter his mouth. Our kiss turns passionate and my eyes close instinctively.
Why does he have to kiss so perfectly?
“I’m scared I wont let you go,” I finally whisper, admitting my fear.
“I will make sure that you do,” he breathes. “If it is any consolation, it is me who won’t want to let you go.”
My eyes search his. Does he feel this connection as much as I do?
“It’s one week. Let’s give each other one week,” he whispers, almost begging me. I smile, unable to push the stupid words of permission through my lips. I nod and let him kiss me once more.
* * *
The flicker of warm light dances across my face, I’m drunk on a post orgasmic glow in the arms of my bright, shining star. We’re lying in front of the fire on a mattress he dragged onto his bedroom floor. The room is dark, lit only by the fire flames. Sporadically, the fire crackles loudly, breaking the silence.
Alastar is curled around me from behind, and his hands roam up and down my naked body, with his lips touching my skin every now and then. We are under a large, chunky knit, navy throw.
“Tell me about your family?” he asks.
“My family?” I smirk.
“Yes.”
“Well, I am the middle daughter.”
“Middle child syndrome?”
“Totally,” I whisper.
“My mum and my dad are hopelessly in love.”
I feel him smile behind me.
“We are relatively poor.”
He comes up onto his elbow and looks down at me. “Poor?” He frowns as if surprised.
I shrug. “Well, not poor. We never went without, but my father had an accident when I was seven and has a bad back.”
“Oh.”
“He can only work part-time.”
He stays silent, as if thinking.
“Mum picked up jobs where she could.” I smile up at his shocked
face.
“We were wealthy in other ways,” I reply to try and relieve his horror.
A trace of a smile crosses his face. “How so?”
I smile. “My parents were in love and they loved us, too. They taught us that no matter how much money you had, it meant nothing if you don’t know how to love somebody with your whole heart. We called it wholeheartedly love.”
He smiles softly and his tender lips meet mine. “You are blessed then.”
I smile.
“To be loved so wholeheartedly,” he whispers. I roll back onto my side to face him, the light of the fire and his lips once again roaming over the side of my cheek, his thick body nestled close up against mine.
“What about your family?” I ask.
He hesitates before answering. “I am the eldest of three.”
I smile. “All boys?”
“No. Me, then Thomas, and a younger sister called Eilish. She is married with two wee babies. She lives in my hometown, back near my parents in Ireland.”
“Are you?” I hesitate, how do I say this?
“I don’t come from money. No,” he answers my question before I get to ask it.
“How did you get so…?” I have to ask.
“Luck.”
I frown and face him. “Luck?”
“As you know, I am...” He hesitates as he thinks of the appropriate analogy. “I have an eye for art. I bought some early pieces from a yard sale when I was really young with my savings, and they turned out to be very valuable. I sold them when I got to London.”
I smile broadly. “You bought art in a yard sale when you were a kid?”
He smirks. “Don’t laugh.”
“What kind of kid were you?” I frown.
He lets out a deep low chuckle. “A weird one, obviously.”
I press my lips together as I try not to laugh.
“The money just gave me enough to be able to start buying and selling art, and then my photography took off.” I smile as I watch his face become animated.
“Photography pays well?” I ask.
He smiles sexily. “Very well.”
“Do you like being wealthy?” I smirk.
“I feel wealthier tonight than I have ever felt in my life.” His lips take mine in his softly as his hand tenderly cups my cheek. “I would even say wholeheartedly wealthy,” he breathes.
Our eyes lock as ripple of emotion rolls over me like a wave of the ocean meeting the shore.
“You are quite the romantic, my twinkle star,” I whisper as I run my hand along his dark stubble.
He smiles into my lips and I close my eyes as, once again, the annoying little voice in my mind screams at me… run. Emerson, run!
* * *
The drive to work is slow this morning. “What’s going on up here? Is there an accident?”
Alastar frowns as he looks ahead. “I’m not sure.”
I look at my watch. “Shit. I’m going to be late.”
The traffic has come to a crawling pace and we are ambling along through the city.
“So… tonight?” he asks.
I smile with excitement as my eyes seek out my handsome driver. “Yes.”
“It will be a long shoot, probably up to five or six hours.”
“That’s fine. I told you it’s okay,” I reply.
He smiles and picks up my hand, holding it in his lap.
“Do you want me to bring anything?” I ask.
“Maybe a book. You will probably get bored.”
I stare through the window at the cars up ahead. “I’m excited that I get to see you working.”
He smiles and I know he is looking forward to introducing me to his working life, too.
We pass a park and see no less than fifty police scattered throughout the grassy areas and in the trees.
“Shit,” I whisper as I peer out the window.
Alastar frowns.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Something’s going on by the looks of things.”
We continue to drive and I turn back in my seat to watch the policemen who appear to be looking for something.
We sit in silence for the rest of the way, finally arriving at work. It’s starting to rain, so Alastar pulls up in the street just near the front doors of my building.
I lean over and kiss him quickly. “See you tonight.”
“Pick you up at five. Then we will go straight from here.”
I smile and kiss him again.
“Do you need anything from home?” he asks.
Home. A home with Alastar… one could only dream of such perfection.
“Maybe my big jacket.”
“Okay.” He kisses me again and a car beeps its horn behind us. I jump out and wave him off and he drives off in a flash. I really want to flick the bird to the car behind us being impatient and interrupting my goodbye kiss, but I hold my snarky tongue and finger, and head into my office.
Ten minutes later, I am in the kitchen with Travis as we wait for the kettle to boil.
“Did you see the police everywhere this morning? What’s going on?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. Some chick has gone missing.”
My eyes widen. “From where?”
He shrugs. “Apparently she went out on Saturday night and was supposed to be meeting friends but never showed up. Nobody has seen her since.”
“God.” I frown as I pour the boiling water into my cup.
“Haven’t you been watching the news?”
“No.” I frown. “I hope she’s okay.”” I murmur.
A newspaper is on the table and he grabs it and opens it up. “Here she is. Her picture is everywhere. Poor bitch has probably met a grisly end. She’s dead for sure.”
He holds the paper up for me to see the picture and I frown.
A pretty red head stares back at me. I know that face. Where do I know that face from? I think for a moment. Hang on, that’s the same pretty red head that was talking to Alastar on Friday night at the bar in the restaurant.
My mouth drops open.
What?
“Bastards would have raped her. She’s beautiful.” Travis sighs.
I feel sick. That poor girl. Whatever has happened to her?
He shakes his head in disgust. “Some sick fuck has had his way with her and then killed her. I just hope they find her body for her family’s sake, they have been on the news crying and pleading for any witnesses to come forward.” He shakes his head in disgust as he heads back to his desk.
Shit. I take out my phone and immediately ring my Irish Fiasco.
“What’s wrong?” he answers.
“Oh my… God,” I stammer. “The police are looking for a missing girl.”
“Yes, I just heard it on the radio.”
“Stop and buy the paper.”
“Why?”
“Take a look at the picture. It’s the frigging girl who you were talking to at the bar on Friday night.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Are you serious?” he asks.
“Deadly.”
“Shit,” he replies.
“Maybe you should go to the police and tell them where she was on Friday night,” I stammer.
He stays silent as he thinks.
“The paper says if you have any information you should contact police immediately,” I whisper as my eyes dart around to make sure nobody can hear me.
“But I didn’t see her after I left the restaurant. I don’t know anything,” he reassures me.
I bite my thumbnail as I think.
“When did she go missing?” he asks.
“Saturday night,” I reply. “What did you do Saturday night?” I ask.
“I stayed home.”
“Alone?” I ask. Shit, what if they think he has something to do with this?
“No. Thomas was there.”
“Oh, okay.” Relief fills me. I peer out the window and see the managers coming back fro
m their meeting. “Got to go, babe. See you tonight,” I whisper.
“Looking forward to it.” He smiles and I hang up.
The rest of the day is a boring blur, with the only excitement being when I was on my lunch break with my notepad and paper, daydreaming of Henry and Elizabeth.
* * *
Henry paces back and forth at the stream as he waits for his beloved Elizabeth to arrive. The staff have told him this morning that Elizabeth’s father arrived home drunk last night and began to abuse her. When one of the male house servants tried to step in, he had a knife pulled on him, and all staff were ordered from the house. The word is he is going insane and poor Elizabeth is alone with him.
Is she safe?
He waits for an hour, and still she doesn’t come. What does he do? He needs to know that she is out of harm’s way. With renewed purpose, he strides to the house and knocks on the door.
No answer.
He walks around the house, peering in the windows. Tables are over turned and glass is smashed across the floor.
Oh my God. It’s true.
Henry’s heart starts to race in a panic and he walks around to the side of the building that Elizabeth’s bedroom is on. He picks up a handful of pebbles and begins to throw them at her window.
He stands for ten minutes. Where is she?
Finally, she opens the window and he smiles with relief… until he sees the darkened bruising around her eye.
“Elizabeth,” he whispers.
Her haunted eyes hold his. “You must go, Henry. Please, before you get me into trouble.”
“He hit you?” He frowns.
She nods sadly.
“Come with me, Elizabeth. We need to run away. It is not safe for you to live here any longer.”
“He will kill us both if we do and you know it,” she replies sadly. “Go, Henry. Forget about me.” She blows him a sad kiss and closes the window.
Henry stands still, in shock.
How could someone ever hit his precious Elizabeth?
He must get her out of here.
* * *
I bounce into Alastar’s fancy black Audi in excitement. I’m going to see him work. I get to see how this photo biz goes, and to be honest, I am like a little kid at Christmas.
