by Bella Emy
“Miss?” I hear and snap my head back around, realizing it was now my turn. The redhead who had been in front of me was now being helped by one of the other desk clerks. The blonde-haired beauty in her mid-twenties was staring at me, waiting for me to walk up to the counter.
“Yes, hi. I’m sorry. I was just so taken by that beautiful symphony.”
She smiles politely at me, but I know they are busy, so she waits for me to get on with the reason as to why I’m here.
“I’m sorry. I’m checking in. Davidson.”
She looks down at her screen on the computer to verify the name and then says, “Ah, yes. Here it is. Mrs. Anabelle Davidson.”
I’m speechless for a second. Every time someone refers to me as “Mrs.” I hold my breath just a second too long. Usually, it’s Dr. Davidson, not Mrs. Sure, I will always be Luis’s wife, deep in my heart… but in the real world, when it comes down to it, I’m a widow and no longer a wife. The realization hurts more than I can explain.
“You’ll be staying in room 303. The elevators straight down the hall will take you to the third floor. Welcome to London,” she says and then slips me the envelope with the room key inside it on the desk. On it, the Wifi password is scribbled in her handwriting: COMBenDec18.
I take the key card envelope from the top of the desk and begin the walk toward the elevator. Before I can even take two steps forward, the beautiful sound of the piano captures me once more, and I spin around to finally see the gorgeous man behind the keys. He’s so focused on the instrument before him, tapping away at the keys, bringing forth the melody that had captivated me since I’d heard that very first note.
God, he’s beautiful, I think.
Wait, what? I had never found anyone else beautiful since Luis. Luis had been the only one who ever made me feel this way. What the hell is going on with me? I need to get a fucking grip. The jet lag must be getting to my head.
But he is so mysterious, capturing my attention in an instant. It’s as if he’s drawing me closer with each note he plays. His dark raven hair gently drapes forward as his head slightly moves to the sound of the music.
Wait. Something’s not right. He looks oddly familiar. But how can that be? He obviously lives here and is employee for the hotel to make their guests feel comfortable and entertain them. How could I have possibly seen him before? There’s no way. I really feel like the plane ride has gotten to my head, making me think such things.
And yet, something still feels oddly familiar to me…
“Oops, I’m so sorry,” a young woman about twenty-one or so bumps into me, bringing me out of my daze. I land on all fours, causing a bunch of “Ahh’s” and “Oh my God’s” to erupt from the crowd. The music has abruptly come to an end. This causes Mr. Mysterious to gawk my way, as well. I mean, he’s visibly staring at me; he must think I’m such a fool.
“Are you okay, Ma’am? I was texting my mother,” the woman awkwardly responds, clearly lying. She was probably texting the guy she had just screwed upstairs in one of the suites. Probably an old, rich, bored husband just looking to get off. And why the fuck is she calling me “Ma’am”? I’m no Ma’am. I’m not that much older than her, shit. She reaches over and helps me get to my feet. Everyone finally goes back to what they were doing before this scene unfolded. My knees and hands hurt, but thankfully, no real damage has been done. I’m sure it looked worse than it really was.
I flash another look over at Mr. Mysterious and see his emerald green eyes still on me. What the hell? Have I made that much of a fool of myself already?
One of the hotel staff walks over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright, Miss? That was a bloody terrifying fall.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Thank you both. I’ll be okay.”
The woman lets out a visible sigh of relief and then continues back on her phone. She walks out of the hotel building and onto the sidewalk as an older woman with the same facial features meets her with an embrace.
Okay, so maybe she really was texting her mother. Maybe I’m just a horrible person for thinking she was a little hoochie. Shame on me.
I look over once more as I hear the symphony that was playing before I fell pick right back up.
Once again, he’s completely focused on his song.
Once again, I’m captivated.
I take in a deep breath, grab my suitcase, and head toward the elevator, more than ready to get situated for the night.
3
The five hour time difference is a bitch. It’s after midnight here, and I’m nowhere near sleepy. For me, it’s really only seven in the evening. I walk up to the window and stare out of it, seeing Big Ben right ahead. Even though it’s late, the streets of London are still packed. People are rushing, the roads are filled with cars and trams, and all around, a soft white snow is falling down from the sky. This time of year makes me miss Luis so much more than I normally do, and I think it’s because it’s so close to the day that I had forever lost him.
After unpacking my belongings, I’ve worked up an appetite. I’m literally starving. I need to get something to eat. I decide that I’m going to head downstairs and see about getting some food in my system. Maybe some fish and chips from the motherland would be just what I would need.
I slip out of my jeans and white T-shirt and throw on some black yoga pants and a gray hoodie. Taking a hair tie out of my toiletry bag, I put my dark, wavy hair up in a ponytail. If there’s one thing I’m going to do, it’s be comfortable on this mini vacation.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and see I have a few notifications waiting for me.
The first one is a text message from Mom.
Mom: Ana, call me when you get this message. I want to make sure you found your hotel okay.
That was my mom, forever the worrywart.
I decide that I’d better respond back now or she’ll most likely be trying to reach me any moment now.
Me: Hi, Mom. Yes, I found it OK. Will call you tomorrow. It’s after 12 a.m. here. Night, night.
The second message is from my brother, Dylan. I smile.
Dylan: Hey, baby sis. Please call Mom. She’s driving me up the wall! Your nephews say hello & bring them something nice back ;) Enjoy your time away. We love you, Bells.
Well, isn’t he the sweetest big brother there is.
Me: Hey, Dyls. Yeah, I just responded to Mom. You know, I love knowing she’s on your ass now, not mine LOL. Tell the boys I will & I love you all, too. See you in a few days. <3
I hit the send key and then check the final message. Another smile graces my face. It’s a long Facebook message from Gary.
Gary: Hey, SWEEEEET-CHEEEEEKS! Hope you’re having a freakin jolly ol’time in England! How are the men there? Are they fine? Details, honey!
I laugh. This is typical Gary. I take a seat on my bed and begin typing away.
Me: Gary, my doll! How are you & Kyle? How is the married life now that you’re back home? I’m doing just fine, don’t you worry about me. Being out here has been great so far… except for that fall I took downstairs embarrassing myself in front of Mr. Mysterious.
Without thinking twice, I send the message and I automatically hate myself. Fuck, I shouldn’t have mentioned Mr. Misterioso. I know he’s not going to let me get away with this tiny bit of information any time soon.
I’m about to slide my phone in the middle front pocket of my hoodie when it starts vibrating in my hands. Sure enough, Gary is calling.
“Hello, darling,” I answer, getting ready to hear an earful from my best friend.
“Hello, darling? Don’t you ‘hello, darling’ me… you’d better tell me what’s up and spill the beans on this Mr. Mysterious before I fly out to the UK myself! Now spill!”
I giggle at his brazenness and take a deep breath. “Oh, Gary. There’s really nothing to tell, hun. He’s just the hotel pianist downstairs. Green eyes, black hair… freaking gorgeous. Made me realize just how much I miss my Luis.”
“Mhmmm
mm. All I heard was pianist… penis? Yum. He sounds delectable...” His tone is now serious. “Well, sweet cheeks, you just make sure you enjoy yourself, and try not to think about the past so much. Try to focus on the now. I know it still hurts, but baby girl, it’s been four years… you deserve to be happy again.”
“I know, love. I’m just so sad and lonely without him.”
“I understand. Trust me, darling. I do.” To Kyle, he says, “Yes, I’ll be right there, butterbuns to butter your buns.”
Yeah, I don’t even want to know… “Okay, well, you go on… seems like Kyle’s waiting on you,” I giggle.
“Oh, girl. He can wait a minute. What are you doing for the rest of the night? Hold on, isn’t it like after midnight there now?”
I look at the clock located on the nightstand, and sure enough, it now reads 12:47 a.m. I get up off the bed and walk over to the desk. I pick up the pamphlet advertising the downstairs bar.
“It is, but I think I’m going to head downstairs to the bar. Seems like they have a wide selection of finger foods available at all hours of the night. I’m hungry.”
“Oh, honey, you go feed that skinny belly of yours and put some more meat on that boo-tay. Men like a nice handful to grab onto. I’ll talk to you again soon. Give me a call whenever you want, and don’t forget to have fun.”
I smile. “I will, hun. Enjoy your evening with Kyle,” I respond, shaking my head back and forth.
“Oh, I will. Night, night, dollface!”
We hang up and I take one last glance at myself in the mirror before deciding that this is going to be as good as it gets. Okay, so I’m not ugly, but I sure as hell had not put in any effort into getting ready tonight. I shrug and make my way out the door.
After arriving downstairs at the bar, I order some food and a glass of wine. The bartender puts my order in and then fills a tall glass with the red liquid that soothes my insides. I take a sip and am immediately thrilled that I decided to order it.
“You doing okay? That was quite a nasty fall you took earlier,” a deep, sultry voice in an unmistakably American accent comes from behind me.
I spin around in my seat and am met with emerald green shimmering eyes staring back into my dark ones. My mouth goes agape, and I almost fall out of my seat. Sure, Ana. Make a fool of yourself yet again.
It’s him. Him.
Mr. Mysterious.
He reaches out a hand and says, “Grayson. Grayson Ramsey. I’m the hotel pianist.”
I take his hand. It’s firm. Strong. Big.
I swallow hard. I have a hard time trying to figure out how to respond. When my senses finally come back to me a few seconds later, I say, “Doctor Anabelle Davidson, from New York.”
He smiles, and I die.
Well, not really, no, but Jesus, did I want to.
“May I?” he questions, pointing to the vacant seat next to mine.
“Certainly,” I respond. My nerves are going bonkers within my belly.
“So, Dr. Davidson. Here on an official business trip?” he questions as he lifts a finger up to alert the bartender. He orders a drink and then diverts his attention back to me.
“Just Anabelle, or Ana. I’m only here for the next couple of days to… get away from reality.”
Well, it’s true, but I’m not about to go into detail as to why I’m here.
The bartender comes back with my platter of fish and chips and I automatically pick up a fork to dive in.
He chuckles. “Fish and chips are considered to be a finger food here.”
I flush, feeling all types of embarrassment take over me. I should have done my research, but really, who would have thought? I start to feel anxious, but I need to get a grip before I make a fool of myself yet again in front of him.
Ana, get your shit together. He probably doesn’t give a fuck about you not knowing how to eat fish and chips here…
As if reading my expression, he furrows his brows and smiles again.
Jesus fucking Christ, he is so cute when he smiles like that.
He then takes a sip of his drink, draining his glass. His eyes are breathtaking. They look as if they have a story to tell, and I want to hear all about it.
Damn, what the hell is wrong with me? Why am I acting this way? It’s as if every time he comes around, I turn stupid. I think about Luis and what my poor husband must be thinking watching me from heaven above. I’m a bad wife. Correction: widow. I’m a terrible widow. Probably the worst to ever walk the face of the Earth. Ugh!
I’m so sorry, my love.
I frown for just a second before his voice brings me out of my musings. “You have family here, Ana?”
“No, no. I’m completely here alone.” Shit, should I really have told a stranger all that? A fucking irresistible stranger… I give him and his hands one more good look and decide he’s no serial killer. Although, I don’t doubt that those hands could do some serious damage…
Fuck, Ana! Snap out of it!
Averting my thoughts to safer grounds, I decide to ask him a question instead. “So, I have to ask. Are you originally from the U.S.?”
“What gave it away?” he asks playfully, winking at me.
Oh my God. Is he fucking flirting with me? Okay, this is going to be trouble. I have a feeling I’m in deep shit.
I swallow a small bite of the heavenly food in front of me. Thinking of a quick comeback, I say, “Oh, well. I guess it was your lack of manners. It is awfully rude to ask a woman her age.”
He chuckles. “Ana?”
“Yes, Mr. Ramsey?”
“Grayson.”
I chuckle. “Grayson,” I say correcting myself. Mmm, the way his name leaves my lips has me feeling like I’m floating on air. What the actual fuck!
“I never asked you for your age, although I wouldn’t mind learning it and anything else you’d like to share with me.”
“I know you didn’t. I was trying to see if you were really paying attention.” I wink back at him. “And thirty-five,” I respond.
He smiles that dreamy smile of his. God, it’s gorgeous.
“No way. You don’t look a day over twenty-nine.”
Oooh, he’s good.
I smirk at him. “Yeah, yeah. Butter me up, Mr. Ramsey.”
He shakes his head slightly. “Nah-uh. It’s Grayson.”
“Grayson,” I say again. After a moment, I ask him another question. “So then, when did you move out here?”
“About four years ago now. Almost to the day, actually.”
“Nice,” I respond. Four years… exactly when my whole life had changed.
He looks around momentarily and then brings his gaze back to me. “Hey, Ana. Serious question?”
“Sure. Shoot,” I respond.
“Well, I just got off my shift, and I need to head on home and get some sleep. But if you’re interested, I’d love to take you out for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
Is he asking me out, as in, on a date?
He must read the expression on my face and quickly rephrases his statement.
“Just breakfast. As friends. I’d love to show you around since you’re only here for a few days as you mentioned.”
“Oooh, you do listen.” I’m pleasantly surprised, shocking myself.
“I do. But only when I’m interested.” He winks again.
Fuck, him and his expressions… I squeeze my thighs a little closer. He’s doing unimaginable things to me that I can’t even control. What the hell?
“So, what do you say?”
“Okay. Sure,” I answer before I even have a chance to think about it. Gary will most likely be proud.
He smiles again.
Really, dude. You can’t keep doing that. And those eyes? Why does he make me feel like I’ve seen him elsewhere? Maybe since he’s from the U.S. I’ve run into him or maybe his family before? I don’t know.
“Great! Then I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow morning by ten… figure you may need some sleep, adjusting to the time differen
ce and all.”
He’s right. It’s almost 3 a.m. London time, and I’m still pretty wired. It’s going to be a long night for me, I’m sure.
“Okay, sounds great.” I see him rise from his seat, placing some currency on the counter.
The bartender comes over and Grayson says, “For me and the young lady over here.”
My mouth drops. “Hey, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course, I did. You’re a guest here.”
“Well, thank you.” I don’t know what else to say, honestly. It’s rare that I’m left speechless, but it appears this man causes me to act this way a lot. What. The. Fuck.
“Good night, Dr. Davidson.” He nods his head at me.
“Good night, Grayson.” His name leaving my lips causes shivers to run down my spine, and I watch him as he walks away.
4
I wake up to the sound of the blaring alarm clock at 8 a.m. coming from my phone. I fumble with it a few times until I hit the right location, causing the alarm to finally turn off. After tossing and turning in bed from 4:30 a.m. to 7 a.m., I feel like a damn zombie. I could not for the life of me fall asleep, still obviously used to my New York time.
After a few minutes of fighting to open my eyes, I sit straight up, and my head feels like a thousand pounds. I groan. Why the hell had I set an alarm in the first place? I’m supposed to not be thinking about life and just rotting away. That’s the whole purpose of this trip: to forget my miserable existence. I pick up my cell phone from the nightstand to my left and look at my calendar. Sure as day, there it is: Breakfast w/Grayson Ramsey at 10.
The nerves in my belly start dancing and mixing around. I’m anxious, excited, and nervous all in one. I need to get up, shower, and make myself look presentable. While this is nowhere near being a date, I know I don’t want to show up downstairs without fixing myself up a bit. The way I look right now would most likely scare even Frankenstein himself.