two lost souls. There’s no shame in that.”
In his eyes there is an ocean of sadness; no amount of soul searching will wash away that pain.
“Now is the time to start forgiving yourself Ayden; you’ve committed no crime. You’re without
sin. Try to forget it and let’s move on, together.”
My directive is met with a crooked smile.
“And … the same thing goes for me. You couldn’t have prevented what happened to me all those
years ago. I behaved foolishly and paid the price. Me. Not you. You didn’t even know me then. Now is
the time for giving; for giving yourself a reprieve.”
I tidy his hair and straighten my back as if preparing to make a speech of sorts. “Ayden Stone, you
are hereby exonerated of any crime. You are free to go and live your life as you please.”
He draws his thumb across my mouth. “Elizabeth Parker, from your lips come the wisest and the
sweetest words.”
I fall onto him, pushing him backwards onto the carpet until my knees are locked in place either
side of his ribs. “These lips are wise and sweet, and good for kissing too Ayden. See.” I softly caress
his lips with mine and extend my target to include his chin and then his neck, feeling the overnight
growth and bristles that remind me of just how unguarded he has been this night. He’s tipping back his
head and falling under my spell.
“Now,” I whisper. “This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to lock away your box of
memories and I’m going to go take a quick shower. Then we’ll curl up in bed and you will sleep
peacefully. There will be no more talk of sisters and skeletons tonight.”
With a look of complete veneration he takes my face in his hands. “Yes, Miss Parker.”
“Good.” I scramble off him and scamper off down the corridor, making my way back to our
bedroom and on towards the bathroom. Quickly, I close the door and flick on the shower. Once the
spray begins to build and flow, I lean against the tiled wall and begin sobbing so mournfully, I think I
will not be able to stop.
When I’m all cried out I hang up my bathrobe and climb into the shower, face first, allowing the
steam and spray to rinse away any residual traces of sadness.
Ayden and I are kindred spirits in every sense; we have both lived a worlds filled with sadness and
inhabited by monsters. Now we have our new beginning, we must make sure we never have to return
to that inhospitable place.
Waking up in Ayden’s enormous bed is something I could get used to but doing it alone is a less
attractive proposition. It’s getting so I’m feeling like an alcoholic in recovery; the draw Ayden has on
me, especially when he’s not around, is unnatural. One kiss is never enough.
Like a falling star I’ve tumbled to earth, no safety net, no parachute; only the expectation of being
caught and claimed as his. This must be what my dad meant when he said he had no desire to love
another woman when my mum passed away. He’d invested so much in her, in them; his capacity for
love left with her. She was his life and that’s all there was to it.
He knew true love, treasured it and kept the thought of it alive with photographs and recollections
which triggered tears and mutually supportive hugs. I miss him so much. My father cherished his
memories, wore them like a badge of honour to be displayed with pride. Ayden has no such emblem to
decorate his world; only three small marbles, a box full of broken knick-knacks, and emotional scars
so deep they may never heal.
I hadn’t realised until now just how much of a pull our past had on us. There I was thinking of
myself and my demon when, in fact, the world is populated with them. Thankfully I have my prince to
protect me.
Where the hell is Ayden?
I slip on my cream camisole top and boy shorts and pad out onto the corridor. The marble floor is
warm beneath my feet and the ambient temperature is that of a balmy, summer night, not tropical but
very comfortable.
“Ayden,” I call out, poking my head around corners and getting no reply. His study is empty and
papers are scattered across his desk. A large black folder is open and a map of the Middle East strewn
out over the floor: it’s unusually messy for a man with so much order in his life.
I decide to go down to the gym, maybe he’s working out? Maybe I could have a swim?
I push back the door to the lift and quickly descend to the basement. The corridor illuminates and I
put my weight against the large door leading into the gym. I can hear voices. What I see takes me by
surprise. Two grown men are fighting each other. They’re wearing protective head guards, gloves and
shorts with vest tops and looking very primal for 7.30 am on a Thursday morning. So this is how they
keep in shape: beating each other up?
I plaster myself against the wall and listen in.
“… You’re losing your edge Ayd. You’re getting soft in your old age. This fiancée of yours is
turning you into a fucking pussy cat.” Jake is prodding Ayden with his gloved right hand, provoking
him.
Should I be privy to this conversation?
“I’ll make you eat your words if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Ayden lands a punch against Jake’s
head guard and Jake rocks back a little onto his heels.
“Yeah, right, I’m shitting myself at the prospect. If I were you I’d keep her on a shorter leash. You
should have seen her at the party last night …”
What … what did I do?
“I did, remember?”
Now Jake’s turning to the left and then the right in a kind of dancing movement. It’s fun to watch.
“But you only got the edited version. You asked me to keep an eye on her and I did.”
Liar! You did more than that – you pretended to be Ayden …
“Well, that’s what I pay you the big bucks for.” Ayden catches him with a right hook. “So now you
can focus your eyes on something else, the party’s over.” Suddenly, Ayden takes a step back and
lowers his arms. “So, you want to tell me what you were doing in the bedroom?”
This I’ve got to hear.
“What do you think I was doing?” He lowers his hands and faces Ayden squarely.
“I don’t know but you’re about to tell me, even if I have to beat the shit out of you to find out.”
Now Jake is laughing. “You’re welcome to try but I came here for a workout. If I thought we’d be
stop-starting and dancing around like this I’d have worn my dress pants.”
“Just tell me what happened or you won’t be doing any dancing, you’ll be leaving here on a
stretcher.” Ayden rubs his nose impatiently with a padded glove.
With folded arms Jake prepares to disclaim exactly what he was up to in there with me and with
Charlie. Please God, don’t let him embellish anything …
“Okay, seeing as you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you. I went in there to fuck Wonder Woman.”
Ayden pauses to consider his answer and, sensing an opportunity, Jake hits him hard on the side of
his head.
I gasp. Hold my hand to my mouth to contain a deep intake of breath. I’m caught.
“Is that how it happened, Beth?” Ayden breaks the silence and they both turn in my direction.
I step out of the shadows. “Yes, I was in the bathroom and Jake came in with Charlie and I tried to
creep out …” The words dry up in my mouth suddenly. These two virile, stunningl
y attractive men
with sweat dripping from their chins and vest tops clinging to their pectoral muscles, are looking at
me. I feel as if I’ve stepped out of the shower naked. I’m blushing brighter than a stop sign, not out of
embarrassment, exactly, but because I’m finding the sight of them in this primordial state very
arousing. The skin above my breasts is flushing and my nipples are protruding through my flimsy
camisole like two raspberries. Shit!
Jake stares at me open mouthed and aghast. “Wow!” He turns back to Ayden. “Now I get it …”
What does he get?
Nervously, I pull my thumb nail to my mouth, unsure of exactly what to say or do next.
“Jeez Ayd, she looks like …”
Out of nowhere comes a body punch of such ferocity it knocks Jake backward across the mat,
preventing him from finishing his sentence. There he sits like a stranded salmon out of breath, winded
and unable to move.
“That’s enough dancing for today.” Ayden pulls off his gloves and the head protector lands on the
floor besides them. “Beth …”
I jump. It’s been a while since I heard him call my name and at a time like this, I don’t expect to
hear it.
“Beth! Come over here, don’t be shy.” He reaches out to Jake and pulls him up into a standing
position, mumbling something that sounds like, “Don’t say a fucking word.”
I move towards him having received my cue, unsure where exactly to put myself or what to say.
“Beth, you’ve already met Jake?” I nod and look across to him bashfully. “Come over here.” He
takes my arm. “You can’t walk around looking like that baby.”
What does he mean? I’ve come down here for a swim. I didn’t know Jake would be here.
“But I …”
“Here.” In a single movement he lifts off his vest top. “Let’s put this on you.” He pulls the
oversized top over my head and drags it down over my breasts and shorts, dressing me hurriedly as
you would a small child. He leans into my left ear. “So responsive but so little self-control,
remember?” I take some solace from his smile.
From across the other side of the room, Ayden’s phone rings. “I’ve got to get this.” He heads off
towards the bench presses and leaves me alone with Jake standing a couple of yards in front of me.
He’s regaining his composure; his eyes are searing through my layers of clothing and coming to rest
on the edge of my shorts.
I turn to leave.
He picks up Ayden’s gloves. “Why don’t you have a go?” He winks, remembering how annoyed I
was with his party antics.
“I don’t box.” I roll my eyes, disinterested.
“But you wouldn’t mind going a couple of rounds with me though? I’ll be gentle with you.” He has
no right smiling at me like that. “Here, put them on.”
I take him up on his offer. Who knows, I might even get a couple of punches in. He pushes on my
right and then my left glove. They are heavier than I imagined and I feel clumsy and awkward wearing
them. I notice Ayden watching out of the corner of his eye; there he stands bare-chested and covered
in sweat. He’s distracting.
“Jay – the head guard.” He points to it on the floor.
Jake nods and picks it up and plonks it unceremoniously over my bed-head. I stand frozen to the
spot; my heavy hands are pulling my shoulders down and the helmet has forced hair over my eyes. I
look foolish. I feel foolish.
Jake is looking at me as if I’m straight out of kindergarten, belittling me with his eyes. “So? Go
ahead, hit me.”
I try but he swerves left and right like a pendulum. I can’t hit him.
From across the gym Ayden is watching, carrying on a conversation but not taking his eyes off me.
He seems in a hurry to conclude his call. I’m grateful when he brings his business to a close and
returns to me. I need to be coached or rescued, or both.
In a sympathetic gesture, he leans in and kisses my flushed cheek, feeling the heat from it on his
lips no doubt. “End of round one,” he states, taking hold of my wrists and tapping the gloves together.
“If you want to hit him, then you’re going to have to put your weight behind your punches.” He lifts
up my right arm and I look into his eyes. There is affection there but it’s masked by seriousness; he
wants me to fight back. All at once, I realise, this is not about a play fight with Jake, it’s about
something more: a fight for survival. He’s giving me a boxing lesson.
“Now see this arm?” I nod and the head protector slips over my eyes.
This is beyond ridiculous …
Ayden pushes it back and repositions it as best he can. “You’re not pushing it into a sweater Beth,
you’re flooring someone with it. Plant your feet on the ground and take a swing at him. Go ahead.”
He turns me in Jake’s direction and takes a step back.
Ever playful, Jake beckons me Matrix style. He’s revelling in my helplessness. I hate it.
I land a punch on his chin, without making any impression at all. He’s broader, taller and stronger
than me. He taps my head softly, as you might a kitten trying to grasp a piece of string. I remember
my coaching: ‘feet on the ground, weight behind punches …’ I launch a blow at his chest and it hits
home.
“That’s it,” Ayden calls out. “Like that. Hit him again.”
I would if I could …
“Now that’s not very ladylike, is it? More like the Bat Girl I remember from last night: now she
likes to fight … “
“Shut up Jake.” I continue to follow him around the mat, trying in vain to hit him, hard.
“Now, dancing? There’s something you can do …” He’s skating around, only just out of my reach:
it’s maddening.
“I won’t be doing any dancing with you,” I snarl. “That’s for sure.” I miss again with a wild swing.
He laughs. “No, but your friend will. She loves to dance.”
Now he’s gone too far. I plant my feet into the mat and throw my best punch. It’s below the belt and
it lands with a thud.
“Fuck!” He falls onto his knees, his gloves resting together against his groin like two over-sized
cherries.
Ayden is applauding and laughing behind me. “Bravo. That’s my girl.” He comes over and pulls off
my gloves. “Don’t make a song and dance about it Jay. She’s a girl for God’s sake.”
He lifts off my head protector and ruffles my hair. “It was a dirty punch Beth but it did the trick.”
He plants a soft kiss on my mouth. “Let’s go get ready for Vegas.”
Vegas?
Poor Jake is staggering to his feet, dragging off his gloves and throwing them in my direction.
“That was uncalled for,” he yells
Ayden puts his left arm around my shoulders and we move towards the door. Without even turning
he calls out, “Once you get your shit together, you can find your own way out.”
Before leaving I turn to see Jake shake his head out of the protector and call out, “Bye Jake. Thanks
for the dance.”
He grins and winks. “No harm done.”
We make our way to the exit door laughing and head for the lift, leaving Jake to recover. Our eyes
are still brimming with residual laughter when Ayden turns side on, preparing to speak. “How long
will it take you to pack?” he enquires, knowing perfectly well he’ll pique my interest with his
question.
“Pack? Why would I need to pack?”
“I have to go to Vegas on business. I thought you might like to come along.” He raises a hopeful
brow.
“When are you planning on leaving?”
He glances at his watch. “In two hours.”
“Two hours!” I exclaim. “I can’t be ready and packed in two hours. Just look at me!” I’m tugging at
his vest top. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Right now.” He‘s failing to supress a smile.
“Ayden!”
He’s folding his arms and leaning back onto the reflective panelling in the lift. “Why not? I’ve had
all your clothes brought here. How long will it take to throw a couple of outfits into a case? We’ll only
be there for four days.”
“Four days!”
“Yeah. I’ll make breakfast while you pack and then I’ll help you shower.” He’s cocking his head.
“No, you won’t! We’ll miss our flight for sure if you do that.” Now I’m smiling. “What’s the
weather like in Las Vegas this time of year?”
“I’ll check but … does it matter?”
I’m shaking my head, pushing back a tumbling curl from his forehead. “No. Mr. Stone, you’re
impossible.”
He sniggers. “Bat Girl, you’re adorable.” The lift comes to a smooth standstill. “Go pack and don’t
forget the toys. We may have a chance to play with more than a pack of cards while we‘re there.” He
slaps my backside and closes the lift behind me, ascending one floor to the kitchen.
Two hours …
Dan received a text from Elise at 1500hrs, just as he was on his way home from work. He didn’t
bother to read it straight away; thought he’d make her wait, at least until he’d had a mug of sweet tea
and a biscuit.
Base camp is its usual dismal self. In spite of having cleared out all the old newspapers and
magazines it still has that empty, unloved feel about it. The patchwork carpet is still in need of
vacuuming and the kitchen would benefit from a clean but, what the hell, there’s no rush.
He flops down into his easy chair, checks his solitary text and feels the beginnings of a smile taking
shape on his lips.
Plan B underway. Meet tomorrow night at 7pm at top of Grosvenor Crescent. E.
TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 30