by L. B. Dunbar
We’d already spent days discussing Morte and the possibility of him coming to live with me, with us. I’d decided that once the apartment was finished, we needed a fresh start. Redoing the condo or selling it were both options. Guinie didn’t seem to care one way or the other, but she agreed there needed to be a space for Morte. I was arguing that it might be time to make Morte’s living space permanent. Guinie seemed to agree, hesitantly. She was still young. Twenty-three. I’d missed her birthday in my absence. Taking on Morte would be partially her responsibility. It was a lot for me to ask of her, when I was the one who needed to be more accountable to him.
“Are you coming?” She stood staring down at me. I held out my hand across the bed for her and she reached out to grab it. With that connection, I pulled her down.
“Arturo,” she groaned in agitation. I used my wrist to push up her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“I didn’t think we were trying, but if it happens, I won’t be upset,” I said before leaning down to kiss her softly. She smiled slowly in return. My eyes glowed with concern, but encouragement. I meant what I said. If we had a baby, I’d be happy.
We weren’t too late to the hospital. What started in the middle of the night, though, didn’t end until the middle of the following morning. To everyone’s surprise, one baby turned out to be two. Despite a visual ultrasound and listening for the baby’s heartbeat, there had been no detection of two. Hollister was large, but she was also a taller woman, and Perkins was a big man. It turned out that one baby was wrapped around the other, protecting the smaller one. Like a good brother, Lincoln Jon Vale had apparently been cradling his little sister, Lyric Marie. He came first, dragging his sister behind him.
Seeing Perkins and Hollister so happy, and watching Guinie hold each baby in turn, I was more determined than ever to do the right thing by Morte. History had not been kind to him, as I had not. He needed a father and hadn’t had one. I needed to change that. I steeled myself for the argument with Ana. Not only would this be the last thing she expected, I fully expected her resistance, as it was my suggestion.
“Is Guinevere putting you up to this?” she hissed, her green eyes narrowing on me as she sat across the corporate table two days later. She agreed to meet me in the offices of Camelot Records.
“Guinevere has nothing to do with this,” I rebutted.
“She has everything to do with it, if she’s going to be your wife,” she snarked in response.
“Who said she was going to be my wife?” It was the wrong response. I did intend to make Guinie my wife, still, but no one knew that fact.
“So you don’t plan to marry her?” The hopeful tone mixed with Ana’s agitation sent a shiver down my spine. I did not wish to discuss Guinie, and my future, with Ana.
“Look, Guinevere is not the topic. I’d like Morte to come live with me. You’re right. It’s time I become a better father.”
Ana sat back in the leather chair and glared at me as she slithered her arms together across her chest. Her bright green eyes narrowed and her tongue coiled out to rub over bright red lips. I questioned momentarily how I ever found her attractive, then remembered I was seventeen and drunk at a frat party.
“Are you saying I’m a bad parent?”
I couldn’t respond honestly to that question.
“I’m saying you did what you could, and it’s time for me to take over. It’s time to correct history. I need to be responsible for my child.”
Ana continued to glare, and I braced myself.
“You could marry me, and we could raise him together.” The thought had never crossed my mind. It was the inevitable suggestion I tried to avoid from her. Ana didn’t love me, actually. She loved what I represented. Rock star, money, society; it was a kingdom of glamor and Ana wanted to rule it with me. However, she was my stepsister, and it was all kinds of wrong to marry one another. I had no desire to marry her. I had no desire to share my crown with her. I had no desire to share my kingdom with her.
Guinie had been right. She once said that Ana was jealous of me, jealous of my success. She coveted what I had because she didn’t have it, and she somehow felt she deserved it. As I was Ingrid Tintagel’s son, she felt she was owed something as Ingrid Tintagel’s stepdaughter. She’d lost her father young, her youth young, and her heart young. I could not replace any of those things for her.
“You gave up ten years, let me have the next ten,” I argued. It was the best I could offer her. Ana didn’t want marriage. She wanted an out. She wanted freedom from Morte.
“It’s wrong for a mother to walk away from her child,” she said softly. The tender side of Ana that I’d witnessed in my recovery peeked out. There was a hint of it behind the dark hair that fell forward, shielding her face as she let her hands fold and unfold on her lap. Then, the delicate Ana disappeared. She smiled up at me with that devilish grin, the snake who swallowed a mouse whole.
“I’ll be back, Arturo. You’ll need me one day, and I’ll be back to care for you, again,” her voice was thick with menacing promise as the words slithered out of her.
I don’t doubt it, I thought, and the strangest vision came to me of floating in a boat on Lake Avalon, with Ana standing over me.
I felt relieved after my meeting with Ana. There was going to be some legal work, but Morte was coming to live with me. I just had to convince one other person to permanently move in with me, as well.
I’d planned the night a hundred times in my head, but I didn’t feel as confident as I had the first time this happened. Guinie walked next to me, her arm wrapped through mine as we strolled through Central Park. Fall was definitely in the air. The darkness was approaching. We were a little over a year from where it happened. She stopped as soon as she saw it: Naumburg Bandshell.
She questioned me with her eyes then slowly smiled. That had been a happy moment for us both. I prompted her to walk forward. Leaves scattered at our feet as we neared the cement structure. Built to house concerts in the era of big bands, it still staged orchestra concerts throughout the summer. Their season complete, the area stood eerily empty.
I hopped up on the stage and turned to help Guinie. People were still milling around in the early dimming light of evening, and a few pointed or turned to look in our direction. Most continued walking as if nothing extraordinary was going to happen. I pulled Guinie to me and we stood silent, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. She was watching the whole of Central Park; I was watching her.
“My kingdom for a woman, Kaye accused me,” I started. Her head spun to mine. “I’d give it all up, if it meant I could have you back.”
Her blue eyes opened wide and her mouth opened in an O, then her expression softened.
“Arturo, you don’t have to give anything up. You know this. You already have me back,” her voice lightened and she leaned forward to kiss me briefly. Her hands tightened on my hips.
“No, I don’t. Not yet.” I brushed some hair off her face as it skittered over her cheek. It struck me for the millionth time that she was the most gorgeous woman I knew. Pulling a delicate box out of my jacket pocket, I handed it to her.
“Arturo,” she questioned with a tease to her voice. Her excitement was present and I hoped I wouldn’t disappoint her.
“I missed your birthday.”
As she opened the lid slowly, I kept my eyes trained on her face. I bit my lip, as did she. She looked up at me, confused then removed the ring from the enclosure. The ring was a simple band of white gold with an intricate design edging it.
“I had purchased it before.” I paused. “It’s your wedding band.”
She still looked at me, puzzled. Her eyes watered, and I could see she was unclear, as I hadn’t asked her anything yet. I took the ring from her and laid it in her hand.
“This ring is a circle; round.” I traced it with my callused fingertip. “It has no sides. That means there is no judgement. We are equal. We will go around as we will love and disagree, and I will chase and you will le
ad,” I explained. Her eyes watched my finger trace the jewelry in her flat palm.
“And a circle means, you’ll never catch me,” she giggled, as a tear spilled into her open palm.
“A circle means you can never get away. For where you run, I will follow,” I replied, picking up the band and turning her hand. I slipped the ring on herfinger
“And wearing it means, I’ve caught you,” I said. I finalized its place at the base of her ring finger. Holding onto it over her, I continued.
“A circle has a hole in the middle. A hole that only you can fill.”
I’d hardly gotten the words out when her hand came to the back of my neck and she tugged me toward her to kiss me. I kissed her back. We’d come to a steady truce in our kissing. It wasn’t a battle, a capture and release, but more of a concession, a surrender of desire.
“I’m honored to wear your ring,” she said against my lips, breaking the kiss and leaving us both a bit breathless.
“I have something else for you.”
“Arturo,” she admonished, but again with a tease. I presented her with another box similar in shape and size to the previous one. Opening this one, she gasped. There was no question about the intention with this ring.
“But I already have one. I still have the one you gave me before.” She didn’t remove the three-carat, solitaire diamond ring, banded in white gold and made to blend with the band she wore.
“This one is to start fresh. No sorrow graces it. It’s a symbol that we start anew.”
Her lips crashed mine. This was the kiss I knew. She struggled to vanquish my lips as mine fought to conquer hers. We tangled and twisted with nips and sucks. Tongues clashed in an array of writhing pleasure as we swirled around one another. Her grip on my hip tightened and I recalled that I hadn’t asked my question. Pulling back from her with measured force, I dropped to my knees.
Holding the hand with the band of white gold, I slipped the other ring into place then bent my head over our joined hands.
“This I pledge to you: to love you and honor you, and not to take advantage of you. To worship you as I intended. To make you my queen. I would like to have you honor me by saying yes, again, to being my wife. Guinie, will you marry me?”
I noticed tears were streaming down her face, after she took too long to answer. She’d been shaking her head to agree, but I needed to hear her voice. That voice that I’d questioned, and longed for in my dark days, I needed to hear speak to me. I panicked.
“Guinie, I’ll wait down here as long as it takes. Centuries, if need be. I’m sorry again I made you wait for me.” I squeezed her hands with my plea and apology.
She giggled. “Yes, yes, yes. A century of yesses.”
I stood instantly and returned to kissing her.
As I entered the darkness of Emerald Isle, it was within seconds that Lace Cardaugh exclaimed, “I knew it.” She squealed with delight as she raced from behind the bar to my hand. Pulling it upward, she dragged me toward the front window of the tavern, as if to examine the rock that dangled on my finger in a better light.
“Holy wow,” she sighed. “It’s gorgeous.” Her brown eyes lingered before her brows pinched.
“Wait, are you married?” The word literally jumped from her lips.
“Who’s married?” asked Trinity, rounding out of the kitchen entrance.
“Guinevere,” Lace replied over her shoulder. I held my breath for what I expected to come next.
“You’re what?” she shrieked, rushing for me as well. Her blue eyes leapt to my hand still suspended in the air by Lace. “Please, tell me you didn’t?” she sighed, closing her eyes. Trinity had China doll skin that blanched whiter, if possible. Her fists clenched and the vein in her neck might have popped out.
“You didn’t?” she repeated, slowly, letting out a deep breath.
“I’m not married,” I said, a little too cheerfully. Trinity’s eyes flipped open and the relief washed over her. Her shoulders relaxed, fisted hands opened, and she reached for my shoulders. She wasn’t one for physical touches, but she gripped me hard.
“Say you won’t? After what he’s done, say you won’t?”
“Won’t what?” came the voice of Enid Kelly. Her bright orange hair wildly spread around her face as she approached from our practice area. She looked different. Allora and I had been sharing the position of cello player in the 4Gs. With her desire to return to the group and my recent dramas with the return of Arturo, the shared schedule worked for us. What it meant, though, was I hadn’t seen the girls in weeks. Enid looked rather refreshed. I noticed a light touch of make-up, and a slight blush came to her cheeks as I stared at her.
“What?” she said, growing redder.
“You look different,” I said. I smiled to let her know I wasn’t insulting her. She was quiet, shy, and easily offended. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty before, but the glow about her at the moment made her radiant. She smiled slowly in return then bit her lip to conceal it. Enid had a secret. We all knew she did, but I didn’t know the details of it.
“You won’t what?” she repeated, looking at Trinity who still had me in her clasp.
“She won’t marry Arturo.”
“You won’t?” Enid asked me innocently.
“I will. I mean, I am. Going to, that is, but we’re keeping it a secret, for now.” I struggled as the grip of Trinity’s hands turned into nails digging into my skin. She gave me a little shake and then a gentle shove to release me.
“God dammit,” she muttered under her breath.
I wasn’t certain if she was upset at the fact that I intended to marry Arturo or the detail that we were keeping it quiet. Arturo argued that he didn’t want additional press at this time. The media was already having a field day with the upcoming tour. He didn’t want the attention flipped to me, or us as a couple.
“You really hate him, don’t you?” I asked, bending down a bit to match my eyes to hers. She straightened her smaller height.
“Yes.” The answer was that simple and that strange. I had no idea why and wasn’t going to get the chance to ask, when a tall man with long hair walked into the bar. Three girls turned to look at him; I was already facing his direction.
Sweeping his hair to the side, we stood stunned. The motion was so casual, but he was sexy. There was no other word to describe him. I wasn’t even attracted to hair that long on a man, or a man as large as his stature, but sensuality rolled off him.
“Hey, girls,” he said, and several blinks broke the spell. Trinity softened in a way I’d never seen, as she turned on the charm.
“Hey yourself, big man.” She winked at him. “Allora’s upstairs still.”
He nodded and crossed his arms. I noticed how big they were as he compared in size to Perkins Vale. Their builds were similar. Tall, edgy, solid, but there was something in his eyes. His dark eyes looked like he might be sweet, and the resemblance to Perkins grew.
“Allora?” I said, clearly not understanding what was going on.
“This tall, dark, and handsome specimen is Canyon Blaze,” Trinity practically purred. “He’s here for Allora.” Trinity’s voice had a playful tease to it. If I had to think about, it seemed like she was flirting with him. He, however, seemed completely unaffected.
“Stop throwing yourself at him,” Lace scolded as she walked back to the bar. Enid remained at my side.
“Canyon Blaze?” I repeated slowly. “Why does your name sound familiar?”
“Because he’s so large, you can’t miss him.”
“Not his presence, his name,” Enid chided. She turned to me with a questioning expression.
“Canyon Blaze,” I said again. “I’ve heard your name somewhere.”
He continued to stare at me, not unkindly, but uncertain of me. In an instant, the expression passed as Allora entered the bar. His face lit up and she walked into him. His arms engulfed her and she buried her face in his chest. He kissed the top of her head.
“I see we have an a
udience,” she muttered, twisting to glare at us. “Hey, Guinie.”
“Guinie?” the big man said. “As in Guinevere?”
“Yes,” I hesitated. It was my turn to be uncertain.
“As in Arturo King’s Guinevere?” he said slowly.
“Oh dear God, kill me,” Trinity muttered, throwing her hands into the air and letting them slap down on her thighs.
“Did you know she’s going to marry him?” Trinity declared, clearly addressing Allora, but it was Canyon who answered with, “Yes.”
“What?” Several voices said in unison.
“I’m Canyon Blaze,” he said, stating the obvious. “I’m the lead guitar replacement for Arturo King. You’re all he talks about after music.”
“Arturo quit?” Trinity interjected, equally astonished as when I announced I was marrying him.
“No. They hired someone to play the lead licks since Arturo can’t,” I said as I walked forward, extending my hand in greeting. That someone was standing before me. He didn’t release Allora, only shifted her to his side in order to extend his hand to me.
“Pleasure to finally meet the famous Guinevere DeGrance,” he said, a slow smile gracing his slightly pouty lips. Heavy scruff covered his face, and I took in the sharp contrast of him compared to past love interests of Allora.
“Pleasure to meet you, as well,” I said, responding to the firm grip that held mine.
“So are we practicing today?” Lace asked, interrupting us all.
“Yes, but there’s something I need to discuss with all of you.” My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.
Arturo and I weren’t actually arguing about my continuing with the 4Gs, but I was getting the impression he wasn’t taking my career as serious as his.