by Kreig, K. L.
My heart’s racing. I don’t why I’m here, why I kept our lunch date, but I guess curiosity got the best of me. I didn’t respond to Cooper’s texts to confirm that I was coming, but I didn’t tell him I wasn’t either. I don’t even know if he’ll show. I think what I need is for him to look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t know anything about this. Because if he and Beck played me, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to trust another human being again. I don’t know how they could have, but who expects her dead ex to rise from the fucking grave either?
I sure as shit didn’t.
After I recovered from the shock, the pain set in, fresh and raw and gut-wrenching. I felt flayed to the bone, my heart sliced to ribbons all over again.
Beck’s not dead. He’s not dead, yet all this time he let me believe he was. He left me to deal with not only my physical injuries on my own, but my emotional ones, too, as well as the loss of our baby. By myself.
He abandoned me in the worst possible way anyone could.
The loom of a shadow lifts my head. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until it whooshes from my lungs at the sight of Cooper. He stands there, sympathy bleeding from his eyes and I know he can’t have known. My relief is so great, an involuntary sob breaks free. He holds out his arms. My need for human comfort can’t be denied. I stand, let him engulf me, and cry against his cold winter jacket, uncaring that we’re making a scene.
“I didn’t know, Alyse. Jesus, I swear. I didn’t know.”
Seconds, minutes, hell hours later, after my sobs subside, he smooths my hair, taking my face between his hands.
“You okay?”
I snort. “I’m nowhere near okay.”
He nods, dropping his hands. We sit and just look at each other for several moments.
“You should talk to him,” he finally says.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know what he did to me?” I spit, incensed that he would even suggest such a thing. But, of course, Beck is family, so what is he going to do? From the way he’s talked about “his cousin,” they’re very close. Hell, they opened a business together.
I’ve gotten what I came for. I believe he didn’t know about the connection between Beck and me. I stand and turn to leave when a strong hand grips my wrist.
“Alyse, please. Just hear me out.”
“Cooper, don’t. I just…I can’t,” I choke. I feel like I’m seconds away from falling into a puddle on the floor, crying myself into a pool of tears until I drown. I kept it together all day Sunday, but today, seeing Cooper, it’s a completely different ball game. He lets my arm go and I start forward, making it about ten paces until his next words stop me mid-step.
“I didn’t realize you were that Alyse.”
I slowly spin on my heels. “What do you mean ‘that Alyse’?”
“Will you sit down while I explain or do you want to invite all our new friends to join?”
I look around to see that a dozen sets of eyes are intently watching our exchange, so I huff, walk back, and sit.
“What do you mean ‘that Alyse’?” I repeat, this time getting angrier.
Sighing heavily, he scrubs his hand over his hair several times, messing it up so it stands on end. I try to remain unaffected, but the gesture reminds me so much of Beck, the waterworks begin again. I angrily swipe them away. An undead man who pulled one over on me does not deserve my tears. Or my forgiveness.
“He talked about you all the time, you know.”
“No. I don’t know, actually. He never talked about you. He never talked about anything really, because Beck was about as secretive as the KGB, so apparently I didn’t know a fucking thing about him. He let me believe he was dead all this time, Cooper. All these years. So, forgive me if I don’t believe you. I almost—” I almost killed myself because I didn’t want to live without him.
“He was in love with you. He was, Alyse. I…I don’t think he’s ever gotten over you.”
“How can you possibly say that, Cooper?” I sneer. “Did he tell you I was pregnant? Did he tell you he fucking lost it when I told him? Did he tell you he drove us into a grove of oak trees, trying to kill us after I gave him the good news that he was going to be a father?”
He looks as heartbroken as I feel. My breath hitches.
“He told me everything, Alyse. Beck was devastated after the accident, but the accident was not intentional. Carelessness? Yes. Intentional? No,” he says quietly.
I’m so overwhelmed in that moment I don’t know what to do, so I put my head in my hands and cry. I hear the scrape of chair legs against the floor. I feel an arm around me as Cooper takes the seat next to mine.
“Why? Why? Why would he do that to me?” I openly weep. “Why would he let me believe he’s dead all this time? I loved him. Even after what happened, I still loved him.”
His arms tighten. “That’s his story to tell. I won’t do that to him.”
We sit like that for ten, maybe fifteen minutes and this intense, overwhelming need to see Asher unexpectedly hits me. To have him hold me, kiss me, make love to me. I have a four-hour drive ahead of me, but I can’t leave town first without seeing him. It’s like someone has pulled a thread, just one loose thread that’s barely holding me together. The only person who can stop me from completely unraveling is him.
“I have to go.” Pulling a tissue from my purse, I wipe my eyes the best I can and stand, looking down at Cooper’s seated form. “Do not bring him to the wedding, Cooper. Don’t do that to me. Please.”
“I wouldn’t, Alyse. I won’t. No matter what’s happened between you and Beck, I like you. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
“How will that work exactly? Our friendship? With Beck?”
“I don’t know, but you are both important to me, so I’ll figure it out.”
I want that, too. I truly like Cooper. Nodding, I lean down, placing a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Alyse, please tell me you’ll think about it. Talking to him, I mean.”
“I—”
“Don’t say no. Just say you’ll think about it. Please. Not for him, but for you. There are things you don’t know. Things you don’t understand, and I think if you knew them, you’d see the situation in an entirely different light. He’s…well, he’s suffered just as much as you have, if not more.”
“Doubtful,” I mumble as I walk out.
Outside, I stand in the blustery winter wind, pulling my coat tighter around me. While I wait for the little white hand at the crosswalk to indicate it’s safe, something makes me turn to my left. When I do, through all the throngs of lunchgoers, I see Beck standing across the street, leaning against a brick building, intently watching me.
My breath is momentarily lost. He’s aged into a simply beautiful man.
“I’ve never loved another person as much as I love you, Alyse. You’re my entire life. My world. My future.” Beck has tears in his eyes. I wonder what’s wrong. He’s been more erratic than usual lately.
“Mine, too,” I whisper before pulling him down to my waiting lips, trying to seal him to me forever. “Don’t leave me, please.”
“Never. Never, baby.”
I realize that since the front of the diner Cooper and I were sitting in is solid glass and we were by the window, Beck’s probably watched our entire exchange. Watched me yell, watched me break. Probably hoped I would want to see him, just waiting for the prearranged signal.
Ever since I saw Asher again months ago, the giddy, teenage feelings I’ve always had for him have blossomed into undeniable love. A love so deep and passionate, it makes me breathless. I’m so filled to the brim with happiness I feel like I might burst some days. Some may think it’s too early, but I don’t care what they believe. I know what I feel. It’s a love that makes you question all other loves before it and I’ve found myself wondering if I ever really loved Beck at all or if that was something I made up in my young mind.
But seeing Beck again, gazing at me wit
h those dark, hooded eyes, the same ones I fell into the first time I saw him across a coffee counter, I know my love for him was real and true and it’s never left. In all these years, it’s never faded.
Even from this distance, I still see the love for me swimming in his own eyes.
Guilt eats my insides raw until they bleed. I love Asher with my whole self and I shouldn’t be feeling this way about another man, especially one who duped me.
We stare, neither of us shifting toward the other. I can’t deal. Not now. Maybe not ever. When the crowd starts moving, that’s my cue. I break away and cross with them, hoping like hell he doesn’t follow.
Then I make it to my car, point it toward Detroit, and drive. As much as I need Asher, the only thing that will happen if I see him is tears (mine), questions (his), and hurt feelings (both) because I can’t talk to him about this yet. I’m not ready. I need time to process something that’s come directly out of a fucking soap opera and figure out what the hell I’m going to do with the pile of crap that’s now thickly coating the bottoms of my shoes.
Chapter 32
Asher
“Hey, baby. How was your day?”
“Long,” she sighs heavily.
“I wish you would have let me come with you. I could be rubbing your feet about now.” Or taking away every trouble and every worry and every doubt with my mouth and fingers and cock.
“That sounds heavenly, actually.”
Dammit, I should have insisted I go with her. I spent an endless day in a barrage of meetings and I can’t tell you a damn thing that was said. My attention was entirely distracted on the leggy, beautiful woman that I’m trying desperately to figure out how to hold onto.
Sandra, my VP of acquisitions and divestitures, was pretty fed up with me by the end of our two-hour planning session. I also agreed to a new marketing campaign that’s to start next week, signing off on slogans I couldn’t repeat if you held a gun to my head. Guess I’ll see what I did when the multimedia ads hit the market.
“What are you doing now?”
“In bed, nursing a glass of wine.”
“Are you naked?”
She laughs. I love her laugh. “No. I’m only naked when I sleep with you. Otherwise I’m usually in pajamas.”
“The sexy, see-through kind or the grandma kind?” That earns me another laugh which sends a zing directly to my dick. It’s now semi-hard at the thought of her wearing something black and see-through. God, I miss her.
“Is your mind always on sex?” she asks, her voice low and sultry.
“Surprisingly, no. Don’t get me wrong, I think about sex with you a lot. A. lot. But I enjoy holding you in my arms when we sleep or the feel of your head in my lap as we watch TV or cooking dinner for you just as much, Alyse.” I’m surprised at how much I mean those words.
“Asher,” she breathes.
“I love you, Alyse. So very much.”
She hesitates to respond and just those two seconds feel like an hour. “Why?”
It guts me that she keeps questioning how I feel, but it utterly shreds me that she believes herself undeserving of it. “Baby, the better question is why not? You’re an incredibly amazing woman. I wish you could see what I do when I look at you.”
“So do I,” she replies quietly.
“I’ve never loved anybody more. Calling what I feel for you love is an injustice, because it goes so much deeper than that. I have never felt this happy or alive or…whole. I finally know who I am when I’m with you, like I’m the best version of myself, if that makes sense.”
“It does,” she whispers.
As much as I detest her insecurity, I hate my own more. Dammit, I’ve been feeling this nagging uncertainty since Saturday night and it’s eating away at my insides more and more every minute to the point I think I may be getting an ulcer. I’ll probably hold the world record for the least amount of time taken to make my own gut bleed.
“Tell me you love me, Alyse.” Jesus, please tell me you love me.
“So much I can hardly breathe.” Her voice is soft and threaded with amazement, but I also don’t miss the underlying tone of sadness.
My entire body sags into the couch in relief. “Baby…you going to tell me what’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s nothing and that you’re fine. Because neither is true.”
“I just…I need some time.”
My heart stutters, hoping to hell that’s not code for “it’s not you, it’s me.” “Define time, baby.”
“Promise me you’ll be patient with me. Please, Asher.”
“I promise, Alyse.”
“I…need to work through a few things.”
“Do these things have to do with us?” I ask hesitantly, not at all sure I can stomach the answer, feeling the bleed gush a little more.
“No. It’s…complicated.”
“Okay,” I concede, when that’s the very last thing I want to do. I’m not 100 percent sure I believe her. Whatever happened a few days ago is threatening to tear us apart. “But you should know patience is not my strong suit.”
She chuckles, teasing, “Really? I didn’t know that. What else are you hiding from me? Hair-trigger temper? Secret family? Ugly wart on the bottom of your foot that I haven’t come across yet?”
“Well, I was going to wait to tell you this until after you agreed to marry me, but I do have royalty in my bloodline. It may be nine times removed, but royalty is royalty, babe. I didn’t want it sway your decision or anything.”
“Royalty, huh? You know, I’ve always been a big fan of crowns and staged social engagements and stuffy dinner parties. If you’re really royalty, as you say, it’s a definite yes.”
The thought of making Alyse my wife has been rattling around in my head since that first night I cooked for her. Nothing has felt as right as being with her. I know it’s only been a month that we’ve actually been together, but I’m almost thirty years old and I’ve known Alyse for years. Dating for whatever cursory time period people think is acceptable, before marrying the person you know you are meant to spend your life with, is absurd. I know this is right with every fiber of my being. Alyse is my forever.
“Wow, if that’s all it took, I would have asked you to marry me already.”
Her breath catches. “Asher…”
Before she can say another word or protest, I change the subject to what her day looks like tomorrow and move into a comfortable, easygoing conversation for the next hour.
When we hang up, I realize I had it all wrong. I thought Alyse was sent to save me, but now I know it’s the other way around.
We are together because I’m supposed save her. I can’t wait to have her back in my arms where she belongs. Where she’ll always belong and I can remind her daily of my love and utter devotion to her.
I feel her slipping through my fingers. My original fear of her hurting me rears its ugly head, spewing doubt and suspicion. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.
I don’t want anyone else besides her. When I picture my future, there’s not one scenario that doesn’t include her. I don’t know how, but I know I’m not letting her go this time. I will fight to the death for her, because she’s quickly become my entire world. The only thing that truly matters.
Before I go to bed, I send her a text that I hope conveys I’ve meant every word I’ve ever spoken to her.
Me: give a listen to everything by lifehouse
Several minutes later she responds. Her sassy words warm my insides.
Alyse: dominant, romantic, and sappy? i’ve hit the triple crown
Me: u forgot royalty
Alyse: and egoistical
Me: confidence is not ego, baby. it’s just confidence
Alyse: i love u asher colloway
Me: i love u back alyse kingsley
I go to sleep that night alone, but with a smile on my face and love and hope in my heart.
Chapter 33
Alyse
I sit alone in my d
arkened apartment, watching the flames dance across the floor and walls. Swirling the glass of bourbon in my hand, I let the tears flow. Once again I celebrated a holiday with the Colloways, and, once again, I had a ringside seat to their happiness, their closeness, their love, their traditions. While Thanksgiving is all about fun, Christmas is all about giving back.
We spent several hours serving meals to the homeless and less fortunate at the Cathedral Shelter of Chicago, to which GRASCO Holdings is also a generous benefactor. They also don’t buy each other gifts, buying toys and clothes that they take to a local women’s shelter instead. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes, because places like that and the generosity of people like the Colloways were sometimes the only way Livia and I were clothed.
The entire Colloway clan is still upstairs in Gray and Livia’s penthouse, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I haven’t had a second to myself since I returned on Tuesday night. I’ve been trying my best to pretend I’m holding it together, yet all the while I’m breaking inside. I needed a few minutes alone so I could break on the outside. If I did it in front of anyone, the barrage of questions would return. Questions I have no answers to.
So I told Asher I had a migraine and needed to lie down. Alone. He reluctantly let me, but I expect he’ll be back to check on me, and if he catches me crying, I can at least blame it on the fake pain that’s supposed to be crippling me. The pain is all too real and it is crippling: it’s just in my heart, not my head.
Beck is alive. Alive.
The betrayal I feel is indescribable and incomparable to anything else I’ve ever felt, even when I thought he was dead. But the thing that disturbs me even more is the fact that, after seeing him, those old feelings of love have risen to the surface. And that makes me angry…at myself. Now I feel like I’m the one doing the betraying.