by Amanda Aksel
I step into the elevator with a couple of the bridesmaids when Mick swoops in at the last second.
“Good evening, ladies,” he says and instantly, our faces light up. Two of the bridesmaids get off on the sixth floor, the other on the tenth. And then it’s me and Mick, all the way up to bad luck thirteen.
“So, when do you head back to Tinseltown?” Mick asks.
I snort a laugh. “No one calls it that anymore.”
“I know, I just like the way it sounds. Tinseltown.” He says it like it’s a delicate doll village. It might be the Valley of the Dolls, but there’s nothing delicate about it.
“My flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. You?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
The elevator dings and the wood-paneled doors open. We step out and head in the same direction. Just like we did last night.
“So, I guess this is it?” I say, my stomach tense, totally aware that I’ll have to let this gorgeous man go until we meet again in a year or so in New York when we visit Drew and Kate’s first child. Maybe we’ll be the kid’s godparents and—
Okay, Beau, that’s enough.
“Nah, I’m sure we’ll see each other at Drew and Kate’s twenty-fifth anniversary party.”
“That’s true.” See, he’s thinking the same thing I am, only in the way, way distant future. I don’t know if I can wait twenty-five years for him. I slow my steps as we approach our rooms.
“Would you like me to escort you to your room?” he asks like the perfect English gentleman.
“You don’t have to. My room is right here.” I point to the door behind me.
Mick glances at the door, then back at me. “Was your room there last night?”
My shoulder curls in like that of a shy little girl. “Yes.” Does he think I’m a little crazy for not telling him, for pretending my room was further down the hall last night? Not to mention, I came to his room, barefoot, let him kiss me, then ran out like a bat out of hell. Hmm, maybe I am a little nuts.
“Well, okay then.” He extends his hand in the most friendly, non-threatening way possible. “It was very nice to meet you, Beau. Have a safe trip home tomorrow.”
I take it. “You, too, Mick.” Our handshake lasts longer than what’s appropriate. Neither of us let go. And why should we? Maybe he thinks I’m crazy, but the way he’s looking at me right now tells me that he thinks it’s crazier not to find out what comes next. He inches closer and I meet him, like two magnets yearning for one another. His lips close in, closer, and closer, and closer until they happily meet mine.
And there it is, the bliss that I live for. Yes, I know I should not be kissing this man in the middle of the hallway right now, but I don’t see how I can stop. I’ve been so good for the last six months. I deserve this. Besides, he’s leaving tomorrow, and I won’t see him again for a very, very long time. I don’t care if it sets me back. I’ve made up my mind. I’m doing this.
I kiss him harder, throwing my arms around his neck. My body tingles in all the right places, like an alarm sounding that there’s a fire. I just hope I don’t get burned. He backs me up against my hotel door, clutching my red dress in his hands. I want him. I need him. Now.
“Wait!” I call out and he takes a step back, both of us panting and sucking in fresh air. I find my room key in the bottom of my bag and push my way through the door as soon as it clicks open. With Mick’s arm wrapped around my waist, he follows me inside.
We resume our positions. The room is completely dark aside from the twinkling city lights peeking in through the sheer curtains. All of my senses are heightened. Breathing him in, I get a rush zipping through my brain that makes me dizzy. My skin is electrified by his fingers trailing down the slope of my shoulders. His kiss bursts in my mouth. If ecstasy had a flavor, this would be it.
He pulls me forward in the dark toward the bed. “I had a feeling you’d want to finish what we started last night.”
I bite my lip and slide my hand down between us, gently stroking him over his tux. “Oh, I intend to finish.”
He smiles, letting out a pleased laugh. “And finish, and finish.”
“Ooh,” I sing with an excited pitch. If I’m going to risk my sex sobriety, it might as well be with someone who wants to please me again and again.
Mick positions me near the bed, then steps behind me. Running his strong hands down my arms, he takes mine and wraps them around the tall bedpost. He sprinkles kisses down the nape of my neck. The scratching sound of my dress’s zipper fills the room.
“I was hoping I’d get to do this again,” he says low in my ear. My body shivers, tensing, then releasing. I close my eyes for a moment as my dress falls to my feet. After all this time, standing almost naked with a man I desperately want makes me feel like a bird freed from her cage.
Mick slides his hands around my hips, teasing the skin above my lacy Kate Golden thong as he slides his tongue down my back. Kissing the backs of my thighs, he rides his hand up, slips beneath the fabric, and finds my swollen clit. I grip the bedpost tighter as I throw my head back with a pleasure-filled cry. His finger slides around my wetness, and I clutch my thighs together.
“You like that, huh?” he says. After six months of no sex, what’s not to like.
“Mmhmm,” I moan.
Mick slides my panties down my legs, and now I’m completely free. Free to do whatever I want. Free to do him. I spin around and press my back against the post. I wish I were cool enough to rip open his shirt, sending buttons flying across the room like little pearls loose on a hardwood floor. But I’ve never seemed to do it successfully. Though, I’m very good at pushing little buttons through tiny holes.
His finger touches my wet warmth again, sliding up and down, and around my clit. I push his white shirt off his shoulders and claw at his undershirt. Once I feel his strong, bare chest beneath my fingertips, I go for the belt and slide my hand inside his pants. I wonder what kind of prize is in there. When my skin touches his throbbing cock, I can practically hear the alarm of casino slot machines. Jackpot! Ding, ding, ding-a-ling! His head rolls back and a quiet, sexually frustrated moan escapes his mouth.
His pants fall, meeting my dress on the floor, and he kisses me again. I’ve waited so long. I can’t take it anymore. I slide his dick through my wet folds, swirling the tip around my hot spot. He motions his hips forward, letting himself almost all the way in but then pulls back.
“Don’t move,” he says in a low growl.
My chest heaves and my body desperately aches for him. He’s back with the sound of tearing foil. You gotta love doctors, they’re always safe. Mick lays me down on the bed, kissing me and caressing my face. Wrapping my legs around him, he dives into me, hard and deep. Oh, yes. Oh, my God, YES! Why did I give up sex again? I don’t remember right now, and I don’t fucking care. I push his hips closer, wanting him to go even deeper as if it will make up for the last six months. I slide my hands up his chest. He feels as strong as he looked last night.
He tangles his hands in my hair as he thrusts into me with a rhythm that rocks my world. I’m close. How can I be this close already? Oh, maybe because this is long overdue. Mick rolls me on my side, and I drape my leg around him. The tiniest bit of light in the room reflects in his eyes. He’s watching me. My expression. My pleasure. I’m teetering, wanting to melt and at the same time wanting to explode. And somehow, I do both.
My cry of pleasure fills the room, and I clutch his curly hair in my grip. Breathing heavily, my eyes roll back. This is it. The moment that makes everything else worth it.
***
The sun creeps into my room, and I open my eyes. For the first few seconds, I don’t remember where I am, but a quick glance ahead gives me all the information I need. Kate and Drew got married yesterday. And Mick . . .
I look over expecting to see Mick sleeping but it’s nothing but tossed sheets and a leftover imprint of his head on the pillow. I glance around the room looking for him but find nothing but a note on the nights
tand.
Beau,
Last night was unforgettable. If you’re ever in London, give me a call.
+44 020 5555 0214
Mick
Year-ago me would’ve immediately booked a flight to London and called him the next day. But every time I’ve done something like that it’s always had a very bitter end. After last night, there’s a part of me that’s screaming out, “He’s the guy. Go get him!” But I don’t trust it. And when you can’t trust yourself, your choices are limited.
I fell off the wagon, and so far I don’t regret a second of it. But I need to get back on it. Which means that I have to leave whatever it is that we had right here in this hotel room. So that’s what I’m doing. I fold up the piece of paper and place it in the plastic bin beneath the desk, dusting my hands as if I’ve just done some heavy lifting.
And maybe I have. Believe me, letting his number go feels a little excruciating. At the same time, he is Kate’s new brother-in-law. If I ever really wanted to reach him, then I could. Just in case, of course.
PART TWO
TWO MONTHS LATER
10
I HAVEN’T GOTTEN MY PERIOD in almost two months. Two freaking months! I’m waiting for my home pregnancy test results, but I’m positive it’s exactly what we’re all thinking right now. Not to mention, I haven’t been able to stomach coffee for almost a week, and my boobs are sore as shit.
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead while my stomach churns. Sure, it could be the appropriate physical symptoms for freaking out, or I could just be knocked up. By my age, most women have gone through this kind of thing, but this is new for me. I’m always careful. And on the few occasions I let the moment get the best of me, I got lucky. For a while, I started to think that I couldn’t get pregnant. And I wouldn’t have been able to get pregnant if I’d just stuck to the rules. But no! I just couldn’t help myself. I’d earned it. I let Little Beau Pink run the show all the way to Mick’s amazing . . .
Ding-da-ding.
The timer sounds from my phone and I grab it with my shaking hands, struggling to shut the damn thing off. I peek over at the test on the vanity and it’s as clear as the Hollywood sign on the hills.
I’m pregnant.
My stomach twists and I lurch for the toilet. It’s the other thing I can’t help. What’s left of my kale salad stares back at me from the basin, looking as messed up as this situation.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant with Mick Bonnaire’s baby.
One night is all it took and boom! Kate’s brother-in-law is the father of my child. My child! The one I’m carrying right now in my belly-button-pierced stomach.
I mean uterus.
But who cares! I’m pregnant.
I flush the toilet and lean against the glass shower wall. Now what? Should I call my doctor? Do I even want this baby? Adoption? Abortion? Are either of these really options for me? I always said that if I accidentally got pregnant, then I would definitely take care of the situation so as to not disrupt my life. But I’m almost thirty, and I still haven’t found a man to be with. What if by the time I actually get married and try to have a baby I’m thirty-three, or thirty-five, or even forty! I might not even be able to get pregnant at forty.
Okay, Beau, chill out. It’s not the end of the world.
What if I keep it? Mick and I could share custody. Yeah, right. I’m not sending my child across the globe just so he or she can see his or her father. And I seriously doubt that Mick would just fly to LA for weeks at a time, leaving his patients behind. That could never work.
I don’t know how to process this, and my fucking shrink is vacationing in Hawaii. I need Kate. I have to call Kate. The only problem is, I told her about the kiss, but I kept the sex to myself. Shit. I just hope she’s not pissed when she finds out I’ve been keeping this from her. Or worse, she already knows about it. My stomach churns again, but this time I’m sure it’s guilt. I grab my phone and just as I’m about to dial her number, it buzzes in my hand. It’s my dad’s assistant, and now is not the time.
“Suzanne,” I answer, “is everything okay?”
Something that sounds a lot like a sniffle carries through the line. Is she crying? “No.” Her voice cracks.
Uh-oh.
My heart pounds in my ears. Something’s wrong. Oh, my God. “What happened?”
“Your dad had a heart attack. He’s in surgery now.” She’s trying her best to sound strong, but I know she’s scared. Suzanne is genuinely close to my dad. Even closer than I am.
Good thing I’m already sitting on my bathroom floor. “How bad is it?”
“It’s pretty bad, but the doctor’s confident he’ll make it through the procedure.”
Whew! A confident surgeon is exactly what my father needs right now. “Where are you?”
“We’re in England. We’ve been on set for this . . .” She continues with the details, but as the reality sets in, I can’t focus long enough to hear them. My dad is half way around the world having heart surgery right now. Right after I found out that I’m pregnant. Not to mention, pregnant by a man who lives in effing England. What a joke.
“Send me the address, and I’ll get there as soon as I can,” I say.
“Okay. I know he’ll want to see you when he, when he . . .” Sobs block her words as I’m sure reality is setting in for her more and more.
“It’s okay, Suzanne. Remember what that doctor said. I’ll be there soon.” I’m sure it seems strange that I’m comforting her and not the other way around. But she’s been working with my dad longer than I’ve been alive. Poor Suzanne. I don’t know what would happen to her if something happened to my dad.
My fingers quiver so much that I can hardly hang up the phone, let alone accurately dial anyone else. “Call Melissa, travel agent,” I say, and the phone begins to ring. I take a deep breath, holding back tears as she picks up.
“Hey, stranger! I haven’t heard from you in months! You actually planning to travel?”
“Melissa, my dad’s had a heart attack in England. I need to leave on the next flight out.”
“Oh, my God.” Her tone completely corrects. “Of course, where do you need to go?”
“I’ll text you the information for the hospital. Fly me into the closest airport and get me a hotel nearby too. At least five nights, okay?”
“Of course! I’m on it. Send me the details.”
“Thanks, Melissa.”
“Beau,” she says as I pull the phone away from my ear. “I’m so sorry to hear about your dad.”
“I know. Me too.”
And I am. Tears are begging to burst out, but I won’t let them. There’s nothing to cry over. He’s not dead, and he’s not going to die. He’ll be fine. He has to be fine.
My dad and I have a very . . . unique relationship. He and my mom split when I was twelve, and I didn’t see him much after that. Not that I saw him a ton when they were together. He was always working, traveling on business, and probably for pleasure.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree if you know what I mean.
But when I was with him, he made me feel like the most important person in the entire world. His attention was like sunlight after weeks of rain, and he always left me wanting more. I’d be so excited for the next time we’d meet. Though on many, many occasions, he’d reschedule, leaving me with the gloom of disappointment. That was one of the reasons I was so jealous of Kate. Mr. Golden was very consistent. I’m pretty sure I saw him more than my own father. But he’s my dad, and he’s in trouble. He may not have been there for me all those times I needed him but that’s not the kind of person I am.
The UK is much colder than LA in late November, so I grab all my sweaters, coats, and boots from the back of my closet and throw them into my suitcase. I’m not even sure if any of them go together. My phone dings with a text.
MELISSA: Your flight leaves in three hours. All the details are in your email. My thoughts and prayers are with you!
London.
Of course I’m going to freaking London. But I can’t think about Bonnaire or the baby. Not until I see my dad and know he’ll make a full recovery.
After I check my bags and pass through security, I buy a bottle of Evian and call Kate while I wait for my plane to board.
“Hey, Beau! What’s up?” Kate answers.
“My dad had a heart attack.”
She gasps. “Oh, my God, Beau. Is he okay?”
“He’s in surgery right now. All the way in London.” My eyes begin to puddle but I will them to freeze. I will not fall apart. Not at the airport, or on the plane, or anywhere else in public. “I’m heading there now. Can you come? Please? I know you have work, but I need you, Kate. I can’t . . . I can’t do this by myself.”
As much as I want to, I can’t tell her about the pregnancy fiasco. Not yet anyway.
“Of course,” she says. “I’ll be there by tomorrow. I promise. What hospital?”
The overhead speaker sounds through the terminal. “Flight number 4068, nonstop to London, is now boarding first class passengers.”
“Kate, I have to go. I’ll text you the info and call you once I’ve seen my dad, okay?”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh,” I utter, holding back tears. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
The flight is long by normal standards; but with a heavy heart and mind, it feels like an eternity. I can hardly eat, sleep, and I’m pretty sure I’ve only had that one bottle of water to drink. What I wouldn’t give for a whiskey right about now. But until I know what I’m going to do with this baby, alcohol is definitely out of the question.