by Jenni Wilder
Lincoln clasped my hand. “Ken will be here soon. Can you tell her we’ll be in the library?” he said to Margie.
“Yes, of course. I’ll bring you a snack,” Margie said despite my objections.
I looked around as Lincoln led me through his parents’ house. It was decorated with expensive antiques and fashionable furniture. Nothing like my house. Although it looked nothing like Lincoln’s either. He opened a big wooden door and ushered me inside. There was a giant fireplace at the far end of the room with a large flat-screen TV hanging above it. A dark leather sofa, coffee table, and two dark leather Barcaloungers that matched the sofa sat in the middle of the room. A wet bar sat adjacent to a wall covered in books. I immediately went to the books and began scanning titles. This library housed all the greats. Plato, Chaucer, Dante, Shakespeare, Dickens, Emerson, Thoreau. I ran my fingertips over their spines and stopped when I saw Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, my absolute favorite book.
I was brought back to reality when I heard Lincoln’s cell phone ring behind me. Lincoln excused himself, leaving me alone in this room. I sat down on the sofa and waited for Lincoln to return.
He had started a fire in the fireplace while I was looking at the books, and it was making the room warm and toasty and incredibly comfortable. I snuggled into the couch and attempted to keep my eyes open. Surely Lincoln would return soon and explain things. But the longer I sat there, the harder it was to keep my eyes open, and before I knew it, I was practically lying down with my head on the arm of the sofa. I blinked one final time and was unable to open them again. My last thought before falling asleep was hoping I wouldn’t drool on this very nice, very comfortable, and probably very expensive sofa.
When I woke up, Kennedy was sitting on the coffee table next to a plate of meats, cheeses, and crackers. She was watching me with a small smile. I sat up and the blanket that had been placed over me fell to the floor. “Oh, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”
Kennedy shrugged, “It’s early yet.”
I looked around the room. “Where’s Lincoln?”
“On the phone, still. He’s pretty pissed.”
I felt shame and embarrassment rise up to my face, and I looked down at my hands resting in my lap. “I should apologize to him,” I said softly.
“Apologize?” Kennedy asked with confusion.
“Kenny,” Lincoln said, standing in the doorway. Kennedy and I both looked up with surprise. “Can you give us a minute?”
Lincoln’s sister left the room, giving me a sympathetic smile as my anxiety grew. I stood up as Lincoln approached me.
“Lincoln, I’m sorry. I know you’re mad at me, but I didn’t realize that man was there. It was so stupid of me. I should have shown a little more self-restraint, but I just didn’t think and now that man has pictures of you, and I’m so sorry.” I rambled, ashamed of my behavior.
Lincoln stared at me. His eyes were mixed with anxiety and a touch of anger. “Jillian, you think I’m mad at you?” He stepped close to me and cupped my face. “I’m not mad at you and believe me, the last thing I want from you is self-restraint.” He smiled.
“But Kenny said you were pissed…” I trailed off. If he wasn’t mad at me, then why was he upset? Lincoln grabbed my hand and sat down on the couch where I had just been sleeping. He pulled me down to sit in his lap. He held me closed to him and rested his forehead in the crook of my neck, breathing deep. It felt as if Lincoln was trying to calm himself. “Lincoln, it’s okay. I don’t care if those pictures are printed. I’m not upset.”
“Not yet,” Lincoln said, sighing into my neck.
I wound my arms around his big shoulders and hugged him tight. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
He pulled back and looked up at me with sadness. I moved a hand to his face and caressed his cheek, running my fingers through the scruff on his jaw. “Kiss me,” he said in a whispered beg.
I smiled and leaned into him. I moved my lips lightly over his and kissed him sweetly.
“Kiss me better,” Lincoln demanded and tightened his hold on me when I pulled away from the first kiss.
I bit my lip in an attempt to contain my smile. I kissed him harder this time, and he kissed me back with intense passion. I moved my hands and threaded my fingers into his hair.
He surprised me by pushing his tongue into my mouth and moaning as I began to suck on it. His hands were rubbing all over my body, and he was getting dangerously close to my scars, but if he needed me right now I wanted to provide comfort to him.
So I didn’t stop him as he ran his hand up my thigh and settled on my hip. He squeezed me there and broke our kiss by pulling back from my mouth and attempting to catch his breath. I looked down at him and found him gazing up at me. “You’re so beautiful, Princess.”
“Tell me what’s wrong, Lincoln.” He seemed so upset. I wanted him to confide in me. He had emotionally pulled away from me in the car and then left me alone in this room.
“I don’t want you to worry. I promise to take care of everything,” he told me as he brought his hand up to cup my cheek.
I felt alarm and confusion rise up within me. “Please tell me, Lincoln. You’re freaking me out.”
“I talked to my father’s public relations person. I had to give him the heads-up that there may be pictures published about me. When he called me back, he had some information,” Lincoln trailed off.
“Information about what?”
Lincoln sighed. “The man that was taking pictures of us works for a tabloid.”
“And?” I asked, confused. I already suspected that much.
He sighed again. “And the pictures he took today were not the only pictures he had.” Lincoln paused.
I was still confused. I didn’t see what the big deal was. We hadn’t done anything together publicly except the concert and the Winter Festival.
Lincoln rubbed his eyes with frustration. “These weren’t the only pictures he had…of you.”
I felt uneasy. “So this man has been stalking me?”
“No. The other picture this man had of you was not taken by him.”
“I don’t understand,” I finally admitted. None of this made sense.
Lincoln took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “They were taken when you were a freshman.”
Ice-cold fear sliced through me. I felt nausea overtake me, and I scrambled off Lincoln’s lap.
“Jillian…” He attempted to hold me, but I was too quick. My despair drove me away from any comfort he tried to provide.
I pushed away from him and retreated to a far corner of the room. I closed my eyes and tried to stop the growing panic within me. If this tabloid man published Mackenzie’s pictures of me, everyone would see my ugliness. Everyone would see my worst. The most embarrassing moment of my life, documented on film. I covered my mouth with one hand in an attempt to silence my anguish.
“Jillian, Carter is getting an injunction to prevent this man from publishing the picture. He’s meeting with a judge within the hour.” Lincoln stood up from the couch, but he didn’t attempted to come any closer to me. I looked at him, wanting reassurance, but found only fear in his eyes.
I sank to my knees. This was freshman year all over again. Everyone was going to see. Everyone was going to laugh. I was going to lose everything. Again.
Lincoln was immediately next to me on the floor. He rubbed my arms as my tears fell and repeated to me over and over, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
My first instinct was to run. I needed to leave. Not just this house, but also this city. I had to get away from this. I didn’t think this would be national news. Lincoln wasn’t that big of celebrity, but it would definitely make local news. Maybe I could take an incomplete grade on my internship and find a different university to finish my degree. A different university far away. But then I thought of Tabitha. I couldn’t leave Tabitha. Or Lincoln, I realized. This man had become my everything, and now he was so worried about me. He hadn’t done anything w
rong; he didn’t deserve this treatment either.
A thought occurred to me, and I grabbed Lincoln’s arms and looked at him with panic. “Lincoln, have you—have you seen the picture?”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. “No, baby,” he answered, and I sagged against him with relief. “I promise you no one will see that picture. Carter will get the injunction, and we’ll get restraining orders against this guy and Mackenzie, okay?”
“Will that help?” I asked, pulling back from him. If it were that easy to get a restraining order, Elliott would have suggested it before.
He put his hands on either side of my head and stroked my hair. “I don’t want her anywhere near you. She’s clearly unstable if she was willing to give this vulture your picture.”
“It might not have been her, Lincoln. A lot of people had a copy of that picture.” Mackenzie made sure everyone on campus saw it. I sat back on my legs.
Lincoln let his hands drop. “Carter also suggested you file assault charges against her.”
“Assault?” I was confused. “But she never hit me.”
He shrugged. “Carter said she didn’t have to. He thinks this is a good idea.”
“But then… would I have to testify against her?” I asked reluctantly.
“Possibly. But she deserves it. I can’t stand thinking she’s gotten away with this for so long.”
I shook my head. “It would be her word against mine, Lincoln. And her friends will back up her story. No one will believe me.”
“I believe you, Princess. That’s all that matters. Let me and Carter handle it. Don’t worry about anything, okay?”
I sniffled. This was such a mess, and it was all my fault. Lincoln was being so supportive when he easily could have washed his hands of me and this mess and spared himself any hassle.
I looked up at him through the tears in my eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry, Lincoln. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey… hey… what are you sorry for?” Lincoln asked as he wiped my tears away with his thumbs.
“This mess is all my fault. And you—and you shouldn’t have to deal with this because of me.”
Lincoln stood up, bringing me with him. He reached down, lifted me up, and carried me to the couch. He laid me down on it and crawled on next to me as close as possible and rested his forehead against mine. He inhaled deeply several times with his eyes closed before speaking.
“Jillian, none of this is your fault. None of it. Never think that, Princess. You have it backward. You’re the one that shouldn’t have to deal with this because of me. It’s my fault Mackenzie gave the photographer your picture. She’s jealous we’re together, but that is NOT.YOUR.FAULT. Okay?”
I opened my eyes and pulled back enough to look at him. I brought my hand up and rested it on his cheek. He had given me comfort when all I wanted to do was run away from my problems. I exhaled and ran my thumb over his lips. “Lincoln…you’re not going to be able to stop this. She’s going to win. She always wins.”
“She’s not going to win. Not this time. Please, don’t worry about this. I don’t want you to even think about her. She doesn’t deserve your thoughts. She doesn’t deserve your time,” Lincoln said as he ran his hand over my hair. “She’s not going to mess with you. I won’t let her. You’re so strong, baby. I’m going to be strong for you on this. She won’t get through me. Carter will throw the fucking book at her. Don’t worry.”
I stared into his eyes. I loved this man. I didn’t care if we had only known each other this short time. He was so wonderful and generous and caring. He knew exactly what to say to ease my worries. “The only thing I’m worried about is you seeing those pictures, Lincoln. Please promise me you won’t ever look at them. I don’t want you to see that,” I pleaded with him.
Lincoln squeezed my scarred hip through my jeans. “Princess, I want to know everything about you. The good and the not so good. I feel like I can’t ever get close enough to you. I want to know all your secrets, and I want to make all your wishes come true.”
I swallowed hard several times. “I want that too, Lincoln.” He smiled at me. “But, my scars aren’t just ‘not so good.’ They’re bad, Lincoln. Like really bad. I know how ugly they are; I don’t want you to see that.”
Lincoln shook his head. “I know what ugly is, Jillian. And someday you’ll believe me when I tell you there is absolutely nothing ugly about you.”
“How can you say that, Lincoln? You haven’t seen—”
He interrupted me. “I don’t have to see them to know there is nothing ugly about you, baby. I’ve seen your goodness. I’ve seen how you care for everyone regardless of how they treat you. I know how generous you are, and I know how much you love your niece. I’ve seen your selflessness, your strength, and your humility. Your smile, your laugh. All of that is beautiful. It radiates from your soul, and I’m in awe of it. Every day I’m in awe of you.”
If I didn’t love this man before, I certainly did now. He had rendered me speechless. He was in awe of me? In awe of my beauty? Never in my life had anyone made me feel this cherished and… loved? Oh God, I hoped he was falling in love with me.
“Lincoln… Can you see how hard it is for me to believe that? I’m terrified of the day you realize how annoying and needy and ugly I am, and you leave me just like everyone else has.” I pushed my face into his chest to hide my shame.
He rubbed my back. “That’s not going to happen, Princess. You’re mine. I’ll never leave you.”
I was his? I liked the way that sounded. “I’m yours? Does that mean you are mine?” I asked with a shy smile, and he nodded.
“I’ve been yours since I spilled hot chocolate all over you on New Year's,” Lincoln teased, and we both chuckled slightly before Lincoln turned serious again. “Princess, I am yours. I am so wrapped up in you, I feel like I can’t breathe when you are gone, or when you pull away from me. I don’t ever want to be away from you. So, yes. I’m yours, baby. I’m so yours.”
I smiled and bit my lip. Lincoln was mine, and I was his. I caressed his face with my fingertips. “My man…” I said softly. “My sexy, smart, funny, caring, generous, wonderful man. Mine.”
He brought his mouth down to mine. “Yours,” he said against my lips before kissing me deeply. I kissed him back, feeling totally contented and happy. My man was going to make Mackenzie pay. My man.
We kissed and cuddled on the couch for a while before Lincoln insisted we get up and find Kennedy. He led me into the kitchen area where Kennedy sat on a high stool next to the island in the middle of the room. Margie sat on another one, and they were both drinking coffee and talking.
“Hey, kids,” Margie said as Lincoln and I approached the island.
“Everything okay?” Kennedy asked as her eyes darted between the two of us. I nodded and smiled up at Lincoln as I put my arm around his waist. He draped his arm across my shoulders and pulled me closer to him before kissing my forehead.
“Did Carter call back?” Lincoln asked Kennedy. I noticed his phone sitting on the island. I realized Kennedy and Carter, and probably Margie if she had been filled in, must all be wondering why an old picture of me was causing such turmoil.
Kennedy shook her head. “No. He could still be with the judge.”
“What if… what if he doesn’t get the injunction?” I asked quietly, looking down.
Lincoln brought his face down to my level. “He will, baby. Don’t worry.”
I nodded in reply, and Lincoln kissed me quick on the lips. “I’m going to call him. He should have been out by now.” Lincoln grabbed his phone and swiped his finger across the screen to unlock it. “I’ll be right back, baby,” he told me. “Are you done with the judge?” Lincoln said into the phone as he walked away. “Then why the fuck haven’t you called me?” he said as he left the room through the swinging door at the end.
I deflated and bit my lip. Despite what Lincoln said, I was worried about everything.
“Hey. Quit worrying,” Ke
nnedy said, trying to sound stern. Margie leaned over and patted my hand.
“Did Lincoln tell you what was going on?” I asked them.
“He said some tabloid guy got pictures of the two of you when he went to pick you up from work and Carter said there was another picture.”
I nodded, relieved no one knew anything else.
“You can talk to me, you know. About this. If you need to. Trust me. We have plenty of experience with this shit.”
“You do?” I asked with surprise. Lincoln didn't talk about it much.
“Oh yeah. Our father’s been a senator for a long time, and before that he was the governor. He’s always been in politics, so we’ve always had reporters waiting around for us to make headlines. Wasn’t so bad when we were kids. At least, I don’t remember it being that bad. Much worse now with the Internet and all. And of course, Lincoln has it worse out of any of us ’cause of his hockey career.” Kennedy paused and took a sip of her coffee.
“Can I get you anything, dear? Snack? Coffee?” Margie offered.
“Oh. I left the tray you brought in the library. I’ll go get it.” I started toward the hall door but Margie stopped me.
“Nonsense. I’ll get it. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Oh, no. I’m fine. I would love a cup of coffee though, if you show me where the coffeemaker is.” I looked around the room at the shiny appliances. None of them looked like a coffeemaker.
“Aren’t you sweet? It’s my job, dear. Let me,” Margie said as she stood up and prepared a cup for me from a fancy one-cup-at-a-time maker. She set it in front of me and pushed a small tray closer to me. “Creamer, sugar, milk,” she said pointing to the containers on the tray. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She patted my arm and left the room.
I sat down on one of the high stools in silence and fixed my coffee with some creamer. I took a sip and tried not to dwell on the problems Lincoln was facing right now.
“She’s just giving us some privacy. She’s very good at her job,” Kennedy said.
I raised my eyebrows and cocked my head to the side. I didn’t understand.