Sweet Fate

by Laurelin Paige

  “Are you doing okay?” I asked. Audrey was feeling the anxiety of it. I could hear her shallow breaths and her knuckles were white as they gripped the railing.

  “Fine,” she said, her voice tight and high. “I’ll be fine.”

  Though the clouds covered the sky, there was still a lot to see. Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Shard, but I was more interested in watching Audrey, looking for any cue she might give for help.

  Not that there was much I could do for her now that we were in the air. I did my best to distract her, giving her the history of the wheel and offering tidbits of trivia about the city below us.

  She didn’t say anything, only blinked and nodded. Her gaze never moved, as though she’d anchored her eyes to some landmark below and was clutching on for dear life. There was something oddly inspiring about watching her. Her delicate throat swallowed. Her lip quivered. She reminded me of the Mark Twain quote that said something about courage being the master of fear and not the absence of fear.

  Audrey was definitely afraid, and as awed as I was by her, I also felt helpless. And that made me terrified. It was how I often felt watching Aaron grow up and embark on scary new adventures. I knew he had to experience both the good and the bad to learn, that I couldn’t intervene and learn for him. It was one of the hardest things to do as a parent, stand by and let this person I loved go through something trying.

  It was just as hard watching Audrey. Not necessarily watching her on the wheel, but in her life. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and keep her safe from everything and everyone. Wanted to make sure she had every happiness, but I couldn’t hand her the romantic, unambiguous future wrapped in a bow that she wanted. I had to let her get to her ending on her own.

  It was a good thing she was courageous. It made it easier. For me, anyway.

  “We’re at the top now,” I said encouragingly. “Look! You’ve done it! Gone to the top of the London Eye. It’s all down from here.”

  She closed her eyes and let out a long deep sigh. Then she turned and rested her elbows on the rail behind her. “That’s better.”

  I peered over my shoulder, following her sight lines. There was a small family speaking in Korean and snapping pictures in front of the opposite window, blocking Audrey’s view. “You can’t see a single thing this way.”

  She grinned. “Just how I want it. I told you—it’s not about seeing anything.”

  A memory of the apartment hunting with her the first week we’d met popped into my mind. “You’d said you were afraid of heights before, but you didn’t seem all that frightened by the windows in the New York flat.”

  “Because when we were there together, I was preoccupied with other things, if you remember. It’s hard to be worried about your fears when you’re on the verge of orgasm.” Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at me, checking out my reaction. Trying to wind me up, most likely.

  It was definitely working.

  “Maybe that’s what would make this better—if you got under my skirt.” Her voice was low now, so that there was no way anyone could hear but me. “I could turn back to the window, and you could come right behind me, embracing me. You could hitch up my skirt, push my panties aside, stick your cock inside me. Make me feel real good. Distract me from the fall. I’m already wet from talking about it. You’d slip right in. Too bad we didn’t book a private ride.”

  Such a fucking tease. I was instantly hard.

  I put my hand around her shoulder and swiftly pulled her closer so I could whisper greedily into her ear. “I’m going to finger-fuck you under the table at dinner, I’m warning you now. Three fingers, deep and merciless, until you’re shivering and boneless.”

  She turned her face so her mouth was inches from mine. “And then later, will you meet me in the bathroom so you can do me in a stall?”

  Damn, she was perfect. Sensual and sassy and smart and strong. I could write books about all the amazing things she was. I could write sequels about all the amazing things she made me feel, and in that moment I was drowning in the awe of her. I was grasping for something to hold onto, gasping for air, and it didn’t matter what I knew I should do because all I could think about was how much I wanted her with me. Always.

  “Why haven’t you accepted the permanent position at the museum?” I asked pointedly.

  Her smile faded, and she stepped out of my embrace. “How do you know about that?”

  “Jana told me. Answer the question.” I sounded harsh and demanding, and I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help it.

  Her brow knitted as she crossed her arms defensively over her chest. “Why are you talking to my boss about me?” Her features shifted as she seemed to realize something. “It was you, wasn’t it? You donated the money for the job. Jana admitted there was a single donor. Why would you do that for me?”

  My mouth went dry and my mind raced to come up with the most convincing lie. “Because I believe in the arts,” I stated defiantly. That sounded good.

  She stuck out her chin. “That’s not why.”

  “Because I believe in supporting young artists,” I amended.

  “Would you have supported any young artist, or just me?”

  The capsule was descending at a slow even keel, but I felt like I was tumbling from space without a parachute. I didn’t want the tables turned on me. I didn’t want her examining my motives—I wanted her to explain her own.

  “I know you personally,” I said defiantly. “It makes sense to want to help out a friend.”

  “You wanted to help out a friend,” she repeated, unconvinced. “You donated the amount of a full-time salary for a friend.” Her gaze bore into me as though she were trying to see into me. As though she thought she could find the truth and pull it out of me with just a look.

  “Yes. I’m generous like that.” I stared back at her, refusing to back down. She maintained eye contact, just as stubborn as I was. Whatever she wanted me to say, I wasn’t going to say it. Not only did I not know what she was looking for, but didn’t she realize yet that I wasn’t that brave?

  The tension between us was so tautly strung, it became unbearable.

  I looked away first, staring out at the winter evening. Snowflakes were beginning to fall, and they glistened in the river lights. It was surreal and beautiful and sad, too, for some reason.

  “I don’t know why it matters now,” I said quietly to the cold glass. “It doesn’t seem you want the help, since you aren’t choosing to take it.”

  “I haven’t chosen to go either,” she whispered, stepping into me. I could feel the heat radiating off her body, could feel it beckoning me closer.

  I didn’t move. “What are you waiting for?”

  She turned toward the window, mirroring me. “A reason to stay.”

  I could give it to her, I thought. I wanted to give it to her, a reason to stay. I wanted to keep her and trap her and love her, selfishly. For me.

  But…

  But, but, but.

  But that meant standing up to my fears. That meant possibly finding new fears. And it was easier to live with the fears I knew.

  So instead of saying anything, I took the advice I’d given her and let her go.

  Fifteen

  A curtain came between us, brought down by my own hand. The countdown to the date Audrey was to accept or decline the job was foremost in my mind, and I hoped beyond hope that she’d decide to stay, but in the very real case that she didn’t, I put up my walls. We still talked constantly. I spent the next several days with her, taking her around London, showing her my favorite parts of the town. We fucked nightly. Every morning she woke up next to me, but the increased time together was very superficial. I had to protect my heart. I kept her at arm’s-length. I didn’t let her in any more than she already was.

  It was difficult at first, watching her flit around, preparing her wings for flight while I stayed tight and secure within my cage. I was familiar with the feeling of being tethered and bound. I’d been here before, and I dealt
with it in the same way I had in the past. I closed down my emotions. I went numb.

  I prepared to let her go.

  Thursday night, four days to go on the countdown, I was just getting out of the shower when there was a knock on the door. I glanced at the time. Audrey was due to arrive in half an hour for our evening plans. She should have been off of work by now, but she’d said she needed to go home to get ready before coming over.

  Dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around my waist, I checked the peephole. “You’re early,” I said as I opened the door.

  My chest tightened when I really got a look at Audrey. She hadn’t changed after work—she was still in tights and a jumper under her coat, the outfit she’d worn when I’d left her flat this morning. What concerned me, though, was her face. Her skin was splotchy, her eyes red and puffy, her makeup smeared. She’d been crying.

  I went on alert. “What is it? What’s wrong? What happened?” Whoever had hurt her, I had to know. I’d fix it. I’d hurt him back.

  She shook her head dismissively. “I just had a bad day is all. Do you mind if we cancel the theater? I know you already got tickets, but I don’t really feel like sitting through something right now.”

  “Don’t worry about the show. Do you want to go somewhere else? Anywhere you want is fine with me. I’ll even go ice skating, if that’s what you’d prefer.” The desperation to make her better was overwhelming.

  “Can I just come in and maybe talk a little?”

  “Of course, of course.” I stepped aside for her to come in, then I opened my arms, expecting her to come in for an embrace.

  Instead she stuffed her hands in her pockets and stepped away. “I don’t really feel like being touched right now, if that’s okay with you.”

  The rejection was unexpected and stung sharply. Was she upset with me?

  Before I got too panicked about the possibility I talked myself down. I’d never seen her upset at all. Perhaps this was her usual method of coping.

  “I’ll…” I didn’t know what to do. What I should do. She was standing in my entryway looking sullen and sad, and all I could do was stare at her. “Let me take your coat,” I said finally.

  “I’d rather keep it on for now, thank you. Could I maybe have some water?”

  “Yes. Sure. I could put the kettle on, if you prefer.”

  “Water’s fine.”

  She followed me into the kitchen and took a seat in one of the high chairs at the island. I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the refrigerator then set it down in front of her.

  I watched while she brought it to her lips and took a swallow. She was so quiet and pale. Not like her usual self at all. I yearned to wrap my arms around her and kiss her better. I couldn’t stand seeing her like this, and not being able to touch her made me feel even worse.

  “I hope I didn’t pull you out of the shower,” she said after a long silent minute, gesturing to the towel, loose at my hips.

  “I was already getting out.” It did feel awkward to be naked in front of her when she was like this. “Will you be okay for a minute while I throw some trousers on?”

  She gave me a yes and a tight smile, and I took off to my bedroom in search of something to wear, but when I got there, I stood in the doorway for several seconds, thinking. My mind raced, imagining every scenario that would put Audrey in such a glum state. Something at work, probably. Or something back home? Was it Sabrina? Again, I wondered, was it me? I couldn’t think of anything I’d done to offend her, but I was stuck to guessing, and didn’t have many other ideas.

  I wanted to fix it.

  But I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. Even if I knew what was bothering her, I likely wouldn’t be able to do anything but simply be there for her.

  It was maddening.

  With a frustrated sigh, I pushed myself into the task at hand, grabbing a pair of sweats from my dresser and hastily putting them on before returning to the kitchen.

  She was where I’d left her, her coat still on, a classic beret beanie winter hat on her head. Ready to leave at a moment’s notice. It distressed me—all of it, her posture, her unwillingness to share, her refusal to make herself comfortable.

  I eyed the seat next to her, but moved around to the other side of the island instead. It was too tempting to touch her if I was close, and I needed to wait for her invitation.

  Bracing my hands on the worktop behind me, I tilted my head and studied her with concern. “Do you want to talk about it? I know a compassionate nature isn’t one of my better traits, but I assure you, I can listen.”

  She almost chuckled. Then she let out a long breath. “I just...I found out something today and it…” She shook her head, as though to erase her beginning. Then she started again. “I’ve decided to tell Jana that I’m not going to accept the job.”

  Her voice cracked, or my heart did. It felt suddenly hard to breathe. I’d seen this coming. I’d prepared. And yet, I wasn’t ready.

  I blinked several times, searching for a foothold on the ground that was quickly slipping out from underneath me. I wanted to demand she change her mind, but I had no place to. She wanted to stay, though. I could hear it in her tone.

  “Is this why you’re upset? If it’s worked you up like this, then why go? You love your job. I know you do.”

  “I do. I do love it.” Her brow furrowed. “But I love what I do. I can do it anywhere. I like the staff at the Gallery, but it’s not like I’ve formed any real bonds there. This is the crossroads. This is when I decide what happens next in the bigger plan, and staying here is a big decision. It’s planting roots. It’s dealing with Visas and establishing myself here, and it’s so far from Sabrina, and she’s my only family left. It’s one thing to go overseas and do something temporary, but it’s not practical without…” She trailed off, disappearing into some private thought.

  Audrey twisted her lip and stared absentmindedly at a spot on the island worktop. She was more in her head than in the room, and I longed to be there with her, but I waited for her to be ready to go on, not wanting to prod or poke while simultaneously wanting to shake her sharply and yell in her face to fuck practicality. My grip on the worktop behind me tightened as I held in my restraint, my nails digging into the underside of the silestone.

  “I guess that’s why I was so eager to try to find The Guy,” she said eventually. “I know I said I’d let it go, and I have, but it would have made it easier to stay. I could justify everything I’d be losing with so much gained.”

  Her eyes reached for mine. “I really don’t know why I couldn’t find him. It wasn’t like I was being picky. I just wanted someone who would make me laugh. And challenge me. Is fun to be around. Gives good orgasms.” She let out a quick laugh and then grew somber again. “Someone who thinks about me when I’m not with him. Someone I look up to, but doesn’t make me feel small. Someone who takes care of me. Someone who puts me first. Someone who runs to me when I need him. Someone who just...loves me. Why is that so impossible to find?”

  As she spoke, I could feel words forming inside of me, bubbling up within my chest, building toward explosion. They shaped in the back of my throat, they slid to the tip of my tongue, and no matter anymore if I believed them or that they weren’t the words I wanted. They were solid and familiar, and they detonated with a roar. “You can’t find it because it isn’t real! None of it is. No one loves anyone more than themselves. Fate doesn’t intervene to bring people together. True love is a fairy tale. It’s a myth. Stop fooling yourself that it isn’t and grow the fuck up!”

  Audrey lifted her chin and fired back. “Or maybe I have found him but the man I’m in love with is a coward who has abandoned the possibility of anything good so he can be a cynic.”

  I already regretted my words. They’d come from a cold, shadowy place inside me, and I wanted to retract them and apologize immediately once they’d been said.

  But now I was stunned into silence.

  “Yes, it’s you, you
asshole. I’m in love with you.” She’d never sworn before in my presence, and the word was a blunt display of how angry she was. How filled with frustration.

  And still I couldn’t say anything, could only stare at her with incredulity. She was in love with me? Impossible. She was too smart for that. Too levelheaded to waste her heart on a shit like me.

  “I know I told you I wouldn’t fall for you,” she continued. “Or I promised that I would try not to, and I did try. I thought I’d done a pretty good job of it, too, when we parted in New York. But then I saw you again here, and I think I realized then that I’d been in love with you from that very first kiss. But I knew you didn’t want that. So I tried to be your friend. I tried to not think about you like that. I tried.” She was worked up and animated, saying words that felt unimaginable and also plucked from my own head.

  “But you went on those dates…” I was sorting it out. Slowly processing.

  “I did! All those crappy dates, hoping I’d find someone else who’d make me forget you. I wasn’t going to sit around believing that you’d change how you felt about love and marriage and babies for me. But then you’d do these things—stupid, wonderful things, like donate the money for my job and help me paint my freaking apartment—and I started to think maybe. Maybe something’s there. And I didn’t want to push, so I just nudged you when I could, and everytime I hit a brick wall, and so I’d back down because I knew you’d put it there for a reason.”

  She stood up suddenly, too agitated to stay sitting. “But then you know what I realized? I realized that you weren’t behind that wall because you really thought life was better there. You were hiding. Because you’re scared. And I get it. You don’t want to be hurt, and I could be patient with that, because I think there’s a part of you that really wants to come out. And I’m not Ellen. I wouldn’t cheat. Ever. I’m fiercely loyal, and if you’d give me a chance to prove it…”

  Her eyes sparked hot. “Except then! Then I find out today you went on a date with Jana, and maybe it’s not fair, but that hurt. It hurt a lot, Dylan. It broke my heart, because you said that didn’t interest you. And I believed you. Was that not true? Or is it just that you aren’t interested in dating me? Because I can’t believe that’s the case. You feel something for me. You have to. I know you do. Don’t you?”