Can't Buy Me Love

by Abigail Drake

  ****

  When they had left Norrone, the weather was still warm for late summer but here it was turning to fall. She hadn’t wanted to spend their honeymoon on a hot beach somewhere and getting sunburnt despite sunscreen. Seb had agreed to spend a week in colder climate where they could snuggle in front of an open fireplace and enjoy the smells of a nascent fall.

  Still in her pajamas and wrapped in a blanket, Alix sat on the bench in front of their rented cottage. The countryside was silent in the morning mist. Hearing or seeing no one still amazed her, because she was so used to the hustle and bustle of the palace and the media attention everywhere she went. But they’d made sure no one knew where they chose to spend their honeymoon, except the Queen and their security detail. And the guards were inconspicuous and stationed at a neighboring cottage rather than in the same building as them. The complete isolation was bliss. She didn’t need anyone as long as Seb was with her.

  “Here,” Seb said, handing her a mug of steaming coffee.

  She smiled up at him and he leaned down to kiss her head. He sat down next to her and she snuggled into his side, enjoying the feel of his masculine body. She sighed. “I can’t believe we only got married two days ago. Feels like it’s been weeks since the last camera flash blinded me and the crowd’s cheers roared around us.”

  “The silence is amazing, isn’t it?” Seb agreed.

  “Not to mention that it’s just you and me.” Alix nuzzled the side of his neck and Seb moaned with delight.

  “I could get used to this,” he said.

  “Don’t. We only have six days left.”

  This time Seb’s moan was a lot less contented. But then he looked at Alix cautiously and said, “You know I’ll be there with you every step of the way, right? I’ll probably hate all the attention and the Queen’s rebukes but I won’t leave you again. I swear.”

  Every time she looked at him she wished she could stay wrapped in his arms for the rest of her life. “I know, Seb.”

  “I’m sorry I vanished like that. I didn’t think. If I had … I’d never have caused you so much pain and worry.” His face darkened and his eyes looked remorseful. After the wedding ceremony, he’d told her how he’d been driving around the island to clear his head. He ended up at the secluded beach where they’d spent a night together before but when he wanted to return to the palace, the car wouldn’t start and his cell phone battery was dead.

  Seb explained, while they were posing for the official wedding photographs. Despite their chatter continuously interrupting the proceedings throughout their wedding day, there was no more throat clearing and tsking from the Queen. She just eyed them with a new expression in her eyes, one that even Alix had never seen before.

  “I spent the night in the car,” Seb said, quietly, as the photographer ordered them in yet another pose. “I spent the entire night dreaming about you and worrying whether you’d cancel the wedding. So I was pretty frantic this morning when someone finally drove by. I arrived at the palace just minutes after you left with the Queen in the carriage.”

  Alix thought how much pain she would’ve been spared if she’d seen him before leaving for the cathedral, if she could’ve spoken to him and known he’d be there. “God, I nearly fell apart when there was no sign of you this morning. I thought …” Her voice broke.

  Sebastian kissed her even though the photographer told him to only hold her hand. “I’m so sorry, love. So sorry.”

  His face was blurry through her tears. “But how did you manage to get to the cathedral in the half hour?”

  “Jerome and Lambert smuggled me through the streets in the Cook’s car.” Alix could just imagine Jerome’s horror at how many times he’d had to breach the royal protocol. He’d probably demand an early retirement because of it.

  “But it was worth it. You were so beautiful when I saw you enter the cathedral. You’re my every dream come true,” Sebastian admitted.

  “It was my fault too. I figured we were never going to divorce so it didn’t matter but I should’ve told you anyway. And Grandma has started the procedure to change the laws so joint custody would be allowed and the royal couple would be more equal.”

  Seb frowned confused. “She has?”

  Alix nodded, amused at how disbelieving Seb seemed. “She respects you, you know.”

  “Right.” Seb rolled his eyes.

  “Did you know that when I thought you’d left for good it was Grandma who reassured me you’d come back.”

  Seb stared at her, his mouth open. It took him a few seconds before he said, “She did?”

  “Yup.”

  “Huh.”

  Alix chuckled. She was looking forward to watching how the relationship between the two people she loved most would develop. They both made it look as if they disliked each other but in truth they thought very highly of each other despite their cool demeanor. The next few years certainly weren’t going to be dull.

  ****

  The wind rose and chased the mist away. The landscape was slowly turning golden and orange and Alix enjoyed the sight.

  “Should we go inside? It’s getting chilly,” Seb said.

  She knew the chill didn’t bother him but it was a nice excuse to coop themselves up in the privacy of their bedroom.

  “I’d love that.” She kissed his lips and he pulled her closer until she was flush against him. His body radiated heat and she dropped the blanket from her shoulders. For a second, she shivered, thinking she’d almost lost this because of a silly misunderstanding. But it was all good now that she had Seb with her. She loved his laugh and his jokes and loved the way he told her often how he adored her. She cherished how he smiled lovingly at her first thing in the morning when her hair was a mess, she had morning breath and creases from the pillow on her face. With the support of a man like him, leading a country would be a piece of cake.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Bridie Hall writes young adult and new adult contemporary stories. She sold her first story at fourteen. Since then, she has written dozens more, translated books, studied writing, and started writing novels. Her days revolve around stories and words, her sleepless nights involve plotting and inventing fascinating new characters.

  www.bridiehallauthor.com

  @BridieHall13

  https://www.facebook.com/bridie.hall.12

  All My Memories

  Grea Warner

  OTHER BOOKS BY GREA WARNER

  Country Roads (coming soon!)

  All My Memories

  Copyright © 2017 Grea Warner

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  This prequel to the Country Roads series is dedicated to my parents who from the start have provided me with memories of unyielding love, patience, and support.

  ALL MY MEMORIES

  Another one. Another text or tweet or some other electronic message coming in. Another time someone wanted something. I’d like to just ignore the chirping contraption, because, in some ways, my phone was the bane of my existence. But, it was also a savior … a connector … a ‘you have one minute to decide on this or someone else is going to get the opportunity’ machine. It was, essentially, my lifeline to this crazy, super pumped-up world that I had always wanted but never truly envisioned would happen. So, I dealt with it—the beeps, the chirps, the vibrations, and the ring tones. Because, for the most part, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Just…just sometimes…I wished I could get a break.

  I looked at the screen expecting some kind of congratulatory note from a fellow musician or another request for an appearance from my publicist. But, it was neither. No. It was that Iva girl. She forwarded cute, little tidbits about the music industry, as if I didn’t already know. And, if I didn’t respond, she’d send out a generic ‘hope all is well’ message. I knew she was doing it to keep in touch and probably had the purest of intentions, but I didn’t have the time. Plus, even though she’s nice enough and all that, there’s just not a spark. At this point, I’m not sure
there ever will be—with her or anyone else.

  Regardless, I read the message: I heard you are in town. We should get together.

  Damn my sister and her matchmaker in-laws. They were the ones who started this whole Iva business. In a moment of lonely vulnerability, I’d let them set me up with her the last time I was in the New York area. But now they needed to leave it alone. If I wanted her to know, I would have told her. I didn’t need them broadcasting to Iva where I was.

  Now . . . what to do? How to respond? Should I lie and say that I wasn’t in town? Should I say that I was extra busy during my short visit? It wasn’t too far from the truth, after all. Or, should I just tell her that it really wasn’t going to work out? No, I decided, I’m not good with leaving. I knew that about myself.

  I contemplated my options as I stepped through the skyscraper’s revolving glass door into the bustling lower Manhattan business district. I had just finished meeting with some of the head honchos at the label where we’d been discussing future projects. So, between thinking of upcoming collaborations and trying to figure out how to deal with Iva, I didn’t see it coming. I should have. There was always one or two that figured out where to position themselves to see a celebrity. And in front of a record label’s building was a sure bet.

  “Finn! It’s Finn Murphy,” the redhead screeched.

  I tried not to physically cover my ears. After all, a fan was a fan, and I did appreciate all they had given me. I just wished they didn’t have to do it with a sneak attack and holler at the top of their lungs all the time. I’m a human being. Just talk to me.

  “Hi,” said her friend, a blonde. She was bubbly but, thankfully, a little more subdued. “Congrats on the CMA nominations.”

  “Thanks,” I replied while moving my aviator sunglasses over my eyes. I didn’t have my trademark, green contact lenses in which the label preferred I wear, and I didn’t want to disappoint any fans with my plain gray hues. “You follow country music, I guess?”

  “We both do.” The redhead rejoined the conversation. “We go to every concert we can, even the ones on campus.”

  Yep. I figured. Sorority girls. They had the screech down pat.

  “That’s great. That’s actually how I started.” I closed my eyes for the slightest of moments remembering the exhilaration of the first time on a stage. The local bars . . . the bad sound equipment . . . the lonely mic … having just friends in the audience . . . playing solely for tips or beer. Things were a lot different now, but my excitement and passion for the craft wasn’t. “Sorry, girls, my ride is here.”

  The valet pulling up in my steely blue coupe was perfectly timed, as my ability to continue small talk was running thin. I took refuge in my car which had been my guilty pleasure gift to myself after winning the CMA for new artist. Throwing on my seat belt, I planned on heading straight uptown to my NYC penthouse. Located near Central Park, it was a little piece of heaven amongst the chaos and buzz of the city which truly never seemed to sleep.

  In some ways, the penthouse was the same as my main residence—a sprawling ranch in Nashville, Tennessee. They both were secure and contained all of the newest amenities on the market. The difference was, the ranch had the serenity of space around it. During my wildest college band dreams, I never could have imagined living in one of my homes, let alone, owning both.

  No sooner had I started driving north, then my phone rang through the coupe’s hands-free system. A quick glance at the dash told me my sister was on the line. I always picked up for family, but this time, I made sure to. I had a bone to pick with my one and only sibling.

  “Nol,” I started right away. “Why did you tell Iva I was going to be in town visiting y’all?”

  “Your twang sure comes out when you get testy,” she bounced right back.

  “Nola!”

  “Munch…”

  Ah, there she went with the damn nickname. Geez, that was in grade school. I would never live it down. So what if I ate all the snacks in the house growing up? I’d been a strapping young lad and had burned off the calories with all my excessive energy. She should’ve been glad not to have ruined her girly figure.

  “Seriously, Nola.”

  “Finn,” Her breathy pout seemed exaggerated via the car’s excellent speaker system. “I didn’t tell her anything. She’s Will’s mom’s friend. I don’t even really know her.”

  “Well, she knows I’m here.”

  “Um, you’re not hard to track, especially with the media surrounding the award announcements this week.”

  I knew what she said was true. While I liked getting a chance to see my sister and her kids, the real reason I was in the vicinity was to announce the CMA nominees. They had been broadcasted live on a national New York morning show. So, yeah, okay, Nola might not have been the nark. But, of course, I didn’t admit that out loud.

  “And, besides, is Iva that bad?” she asked.

  “No,” I admitted. “No, I guess it’s not. I just don’t know where it’s ever going to lead.”

  “Don’t worry about where it’s going to lead. Just enjoy the company.” Before I could interject, she added, “She’s a nice lady.”

  Lady. God, using that term made me feel so old. But, I guess maybe I was. Sheez, birthday number thirty was just around the corner. How did that happen?

  “Just because you have earned every award known to the country music world…”

  “Hardly.” I physically shook my head. I’d only received some beginning ones. I had many more to tackle.

  “Well, more than most. Anyway, my point is, it doesn’t mean you should live the rockstar lifestyle forever. Don’t let what happened with Audrey mess you up from the good ones out there.”

  Audrey had messed me up. And, my sister knew it. She was one of the core few who actually knew to what extent. But Audrey had been years ago. And even though she was part of my hesitancy, the job had a hand in it, too. I didn’t know who was with me for me and not the fame, the notoriety, or the money. If I wanted to get laid, hell, sure—that was a no-brainer. I could ‘get some’ practically whenever I wanted. But, to trust someone with your heart and know they would always be there … I wasn’t so sure.

  “I’ll call her,” I found myself agreeing, and then changed the subject. “So, what’s up? I’m pretty sure you didn’t call to talk about my love life.”

  “Uh, yeah. I’d prefer not to.” The inflection in her voice reminded me of our teenage years, and I stifled a laugh. “You know that thing at Wyatt’s school?”

  “Yeah?”

  Nola had texted me the night before. Her son’s school, located about an hour away in their suburban New York neighborhood, wanted to raise money for one of the students who was suffering from some kind of heart disease. It seemed very serious and very sad—literally, heartbreaking. She let me know that my six-year-old chatterbox of a nephew had volunteered me to sing. Truth was, I would do anything for that little guy. He was the coolest dude ever created. Although, his little sister had my heart, too.

  I’d agreed, of course, for Wyatt and for the student who was so sick. But, it made me a little sad because, I knew with Wyatt blurting out my family connection, it would change things. My sister, her husband, and the kids would no longer have total privacy in their new community. They would be connected to me and my celebrity. While, admittedly, it had its perks, it also came with cautions and scrutiny, too.

  “What’s going on with the fundraiser?” I continued. “Did you tell them I could help?”

  “Well, yeah. I went into the school today and talked with the people in charge. So… Finn…”

  “Yeah?”

  Oh-oh. Why was she hesitating? What did she get me into? I wanted to sing—just me and my guitar. I didn’t want press or any meet and greets where people were trying to touch me in places they shouldn’t. I just wanted to sing and help the family.

  “I met with two of the women in charge of setting up the fundraiser.”

  “Uh-huh,” Although I lo
ved driving, doing it during rush hour in the Big Apple demanded my full attention, and my sister was distracting me with her bizarre version of twenty questions. I gripped the leather steering wheel a little tighter and pleaded, “Nol, I’m in Manhattan traffic. What’s up?”

  “One of them is the technology coordinator for the school.”

  An instant vision of a nerdy tech girl with horned rimmed glasses and no personality came to mind. She would probably have a billion ideas on how to broadcast cheesy videos behind me. I hated to stereotype but, nine times out of ten, it was true.

  “No hoopla videos,” I admonished. “Just simple, right?”

  “No. That’s not why I’m telling you. Her name is Lara.”

  Nola had paused. But, had she not, I don’t think I would have heard her, anyway. The announcement of that name made my brain momentarily turn to haze and my stomach do an immediate somersault of weird hope and shock.

  “Lara Faulkner.” She clinched the deal with the last name.

  There had been a legitimate reason for the belly aerobics. It was Lara. Of all…Wow.

  Oops, sorry Mr. Taxi Cab Driver, I silently apologized for the near collision. I hadn’t been paying attention. I wasn’t focused on the road…at all.

  “Lara Faulkner, as in…” I finally managed.

  “Yeah, the same one.”

  It had been what . . .? God, seven years since we had last spoken or seen one another. All my memories of her and that more innocent time came rushing back—not that they were ever too far. . .

  ***

  The colorful, old mountains of West Virginia were the scenic setting for my home away from home during my collegiate days. It was during the latter part of my junior year that I first met and became friends with Lara. But, admittedly, at first, I wasn’t too impressed.