by Miles, Amy
The closet is empty and the shoe rack barren. Ashlyn’s hard-shell suitcase sits at the end of her bed, packed and ready to go. She tucks her toiletry case on top and leans over the case to try to zip it.
Her world has plummeted into chaos. She can’t think, at least not about anything other than the look on Slade’s face as the elevator doors closed.
Why did he have to look so sad? He was the one who betrayed her, not the other way around.
Sinking down onto the bed, she sighs, wishing she could stop crying. She doesn’t like to feel so weak. When her mother abandoned her as a child for a beer bottle, Ashlyn swore she would never let anyone make her cry again.
Slade was smart. He didn’t try to dynamite through her defenses. He chipped away at them slowly, with skilled precision.
He knew what he was doing and that’s what makes this hurt so much more.
Ashlyn closes her eyes and tries to snap herself out of it. “He’s just a guy. He’s hardly worth all of this childish blubbering.”
No amount of scolding has helped her so far, but she keeps trying. It’s all she knows to do.
Ashlyn kept herself separated from people in school, no close friends and zero leniencies when it came to boys. Sure, there had been plenty of interest on their part, but she just looked the other way. It was easier that way. She could stay focused on school and then college.
While the world passed her by, Ashlyn worked hard. There were countless late-night soda runs and more containers of ramen noodles than she would care to count, but she did it. She had a dream and she went for it, no holds barred.
Her roommate in college thought Ashlyn was a bit eccentric. Maybe she was, but she’s okay with that. She has managed to make it through twenty-two years of life with only one great betrayal. Not many people can say that.
But they can say they’ve lived, a voice whispers in the back of her mind.
“What’s the use of living if it makes you feel like this?” She scowls at the empty room.
She was an expert at keeping people well beyond arm’s length, so what made Slade Collins so different? It wasn’t his looks. She’s certainly not shallow enough to be attracted to a guy only for that. It wasn’t his personality, because to be honest, he wasn’t exactly in top form when they first met.
No. It was his eyes. She saw something in him, something unique. Something he apparently didn’t even know existed.
He had told her that he’d been wearing a mask for so long that he didn’t really know who he was anymore. She’d hoped he was starting to discover himself again, but apparently she was wrong. Oh, so wrong.
She was a fool to let him destroy her perfect world. Now, instead of just being alone, she’s heartbroken too.
Her cell phone buzzes in her pocket and Ashlyn hesitates before answering. “Hey, Sophie.”
She wipes her nose with a tissue that she’d tucked into her pocket, knowing she probably sounds just as terrible as she looks.
“What the heck is going on up there in New York? I just got a call from Tamsin saying Slade has flipped out on her. She wants me to send his butt back to London and you haven’t been answering your phone.”
“Tamsin flipped out?” She can tell her voice sounds faraway and filled with confusion. And rightfully so. Why the heck would Slade flip out on Tamsin? Is he taking out his anger on her now?
“I’m almost done here in Miami with the press releases and then I’ll be heading up your way in an hour. When I get there, we can get this drama sorted out.”
“Don’t bother,” Ashlyn says, pulling up the handle of her suitcase. She rises and slings her purse over her shoulder. “I’m heading home.”
“What do you mean you’re going home?” The pitch of Sophie’s voice jumps an octave, but if Ashlyn were to guess, her blood pressure is on the rise much faster than her tone. “You can’t head home. We have New York today and then you’re heading back to London tomorrow.”
Ashlyn takes a deep breath, preparing herself. This isn’t going to go over well. It might even impact their working relationship, but it’s something she has to do. “Tamsin can handle it. And with you there to help her, I know everything will go smoothly.”
“Oh no.” The sound of Sophie’s heels tap-dancing against concrete increases in pace. “Don’t you dare do anything rash, Ashlyn. I’m heading your way now.”
“I’m serious, Sophie.” She can feel the tears starting to sting her eyes and she swallows roughly. “I want out.”
Sophie stops walking. “What did he do to you? I swear if Slade laid a single finger on you, I will tear him a new one.”
A tiny hint of a smile crosses Ashlyn’s lips as she pulls the door closed behind her. “I knew you’d be my knight in shining armor.”
“You’re darn right, but make sure it’s pink armor. Silver will make me look all washed out.”
Ashlyn laughs. It’s a small laugh, but it still counts. “I really am sorry to bail on you—”
“No.” Sophie breaks in. “Don’t even worry about it. I will get this mess sorted out. You just take care of you, okay?”
Ashlyn hits the down button and feels a small weight lift from her shoulders. “Why don’t you come see me when you’re done in London? Maybe we could go to a movie or something.”
Sophie’s breath catches. “Did you just…? You’re inviting me to your home?”
“Yeah.” Ashlyn smiles softly as she pushes the button to take her to the lobby. “I guess I am. Maybe Slade wasn’t completely bad for me after all.”
Twenty-Seven
The New York book signing was a complete disaster. Slade and Tamsin were at each other’s throats any time the fans weren’t around. Evil glares and haughty looks from Tamsin left Slade with the headache of the century, but there’s no doubt in his mind that she is a pro. When the cameras were on, she was all smiles. He wasn’t able to shut off his anger quite so easily.
The instant the book signing was over, they parted ways and didn’t see each other again until they boarded the flight to London. He watched her struggle with lifting her heavy luggage into the overhead bin but made no move to help her. Batting her eyelashes got her instant help from a balding, slightly paunchy businessman across the aisle from her.
Slade just shook his head and plugged in his earbuds to endure the long flight back home.
It didn’t feel right to not have Ashlyn across the aisle from him. As the hours stretched on and the movie struggled to keep his attention, Slade found himself missing her even more.
He tried calling her cell phone a few times before he left New York, but it went straight to voicemail. Sophie was standoffish when he spoke with her at the event so he knew Ashlyn had spoken with her.
Sophie is a hardass, no doubt that it. She ripped into him and Tamsin after the book signing with razor-sharp perfection that left him mortally wounded.
He didn’t need to be told that he screwed up, but she didn’t care. He was going to listen to every word she had to say and there was nothing he could do about it.
Thankfully, the scolding didn’t last as long as he’d feared. By the time Sophie was done, even Tamsin seemed mollified. She had offered an emotionless apology to him and left the room.
Now, Sophie sits in the row behind him and he can feel her gaze on the back of his head. Or at least he imagines he can.
Ashlyn was right in picking Sophie as a friend and boss. It’s easy to see why Ashlyn fell in love with Sophie’s no-nonsense attitude when it came to business, but it extended into a fierce protective relationship outside the office.
As the wheels touch down on the runway at Heathrow Airport, Slade releases a heavy sigh. Home sweet home, he mumbles silently.
But there is nothing sweet about being home. He doesn’t want to do this final event without Ashlyn. It’s his last one, and beyond that… who knows?
After zipping straight through customs and gathering his bags, he doesn’t wait for Sophie and Tamsin to weave their way through the long line
for international travelers. He snags his bags and hails a cab to take him straight to the train station.
As much as he would hate to admit it, he really wants to speak with his mother about Ashlyn. Even though they’ve never really had that sort of a relationship, Slade knows she will listen. She will also probably remind him that he’s an idiot, but she’ll also give him advice, and that’s exactly what he needs right now.
His mates would pat him on the back and cheer him on for his conquest with Tamsin, but he can’t stand the thought of them ever knowing anything happened between them. He feels no pride for his actions, only guilt.
As the train pulls into his stop, his cell phone vibrates and he sees a text message from Sophie, detailing the time and place for the book signing that will take place later tonight. Or is it tomorrow? It’s so hard for his body to figure out what time zone he’s really on at the moment.
He sighs and shoves the phone back into his pocket. After tonight, he will not have any reason to ever speak with Ashlyn again. He will go back to his job at the pub and she will move on with her life in America.
This thought weighs heavily on him as he trudges home in the misty rain. He pulls his shirt collar up and huddles against the chill. He misses the heat of New York.
Slipping his key into the door, he calls out as he steps into the entry. “Mum? I’m home.”
No answer. He flips on a light and looks around the barren kitchen. No morning dishes sit in the sink. The ironing is done and put away. The floors hold a newly mopped shine.
He walks into the dining room and sinks down onto a chair, noticing his mother’s note for the first time.
Gone to Yorkshire for a few days with Henry. Be back on Monday. Best wishes for your last event.
~ Mum
Slade tosses the note back onto the table and buries his head in his hands. Typical. The one and only time his mum has gone on a long weekend is when he needs her the most.
He considers giving her a ring but decides against it. Leaving his luggage at the front door, Slade trudges up the stairs and passes out in bed. It doesn’t matter that it’s nearly eight in the morning and that he should be starting his day. Jet lag and guilt has finally caught up to him.
When he wakes later that afternoon, he groans as he looks at the clock. 3:00p.m. He has just over two hours to get ready and head back into London for the book signing.
Dragging himself out of bed, Slade runs his hands through his hair and winces. He smells like an airplane.
It takes longer than normal to prep for this signing. His heart just isn’t in it. He knows he really should take the time to unpack his suitcase and switch to an overnight bag, but he can’t.
The trek back to the train station is cold and damp as a low fog continues to cling to his village. The stone paving stones underfoot are slick with moisture. His clothes begin to feel uncomfortably damp as he lugs his suitcase behind him.
Once the train pulls into Euston Station, he wades through the sea of bodies in search of his underground rail. People jostle against him, some rushing as they hear the hiss of an approaching train, others linger to listen to a man sitting on the ground beside an open guitar case, playing for money.
The noise is overwhelming in this tiny tunnel. The chatter of people fills his senses to the point of overload.
Slade steps to the side, finding a small space to slip into, and he closes his eyes, listening. Is this what Ashlyn feels like in a crowd? His heart thumps in his chest and his skin feels a bit clammy.
London at rush hour is the epitome of stupidity, especially when you’re in possession of a rather bulky suitcase. He should have gotten ready faster to miss this mess, but now that he’s trapped within it, he smiles. I understand now.
Ashlyn isn’t trying to run away from people because she’s afraid of them, but because she finds them to be overwhelming. She doesn’t thrive off of interaction with people in the same way that he does. She has to pull within herself to find an inner peace, to feel revived.
Being in a crowd has always been a thrill to Slade. He loves the attention, the energy he draws from it, but Ashlyn isn’t like that.
The scent of body odor hangs heavily in the moist underground air as he leaps back into the crowd and follows its lead right to his railway. It feels increasingly uncomfortable as the doors of his tube open as Slade files on and grabs onto a handle. He doesn’t bother trying to find a seat. At this time of the day, there won’t be a single spot left open.
He rocks back and forth, swaying with the movement of the train through several stops. People come and go, but he remains, heading deeper into London.
“Doors closing,” a robotic voice announces overhead.
Slade checks the map to see that his stop is next. As he lowers his gaze, his eyes widen with surprise when he sees the cover of Ender’s Betrayal held tightly in a young girl’s hands. She looks to be about the right age to be heading off to university in the fall. Her cheeks are flushed prettily as she stares raptly at the pages.
“Good book?” he asks, trying not to think about how perfectly the book title describes his own relationship with Ashlyn.
She blinks, surprised by the interruption. “Uh, yeah, I’m a huge fan.”
He smirks at the slight tint of red that seeps into her cheeks, giving her a full-on blush as she lowers her gaze. Her eyes are a pretty hazel beneath black-rimmed glasses. A small smattering of freckles makes her look younger than he originally thought. “That’s a nice cover,” he says. “Very eye catching.”
She closes the book on her lap and laughs. “Yes, I guess it is. Tamsin Archer’s books always have the best covers.”
Slade leans in close. “Did you know Tamsin is signing tonight at the Waldorf Hotel?”
“Really?” Her squeal of excitement almost brings the exhilaration back for Slade. Almost.
“Sure is. You interested?”
Her expression shifts as she sits back, studying him closely. Slade laughs and shakes his head. “Why do girls always think a guy is trying to hit on them when they’re simply being nice?”
“Because guys normally have ulterior motives,” she responds.
He tilts his head and nods. “True, but I’m full up on dickhead moments for the month so you’re in luck. Tickets sold out weeks ago, but I can get you in, if you’re interested.”
Her eyes narrow as she stares at him with obvious disbelief. “How?”
“May I?” Reaching out, he accepts her book and flips to the back. He finds the correct page and holds it up beside his face. “See any resemblance.”
“No. Freakin’. Way.” She surges up from her seat and yanks the book from her hand. She studies Slade’s model photo against his face. She nibbles on her lower lip. “I’m still not buying it. I think you’re going to have to prove it to me.”
Slade chuckles and shifts his satchel. Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he lifts it high enough for her to see his abs. She sucks in a breath and blushes profusely. “Oh my gosh! It is you!”
He places a finger over his lips and motions for her to calm down. He winks at her. “I’m in disguise.”
“Oh, this is so wicked. My friends back at uni will never believe me when I tell them I met you. Can I have your autograph?”
“Um…” Her request catches him off guard. “Sure. No one’s ever asked me for that.”
“Seriously?” She twists to the side to dig out a pen from her bag. “That’s insane. You are totally hot… uh… I mean, famous.”
Chuckling to himself, Slade signs the girl’s book and tells her to follow him when he gets off at the next stop. Once they reach the hotel, he sneaks her in and hunts down Sophie.
Her stern look makes his smile falter entirely. Maybe he should have thought this through a bit more. “I thought it would be okay. She’s such a huge Tamsin fan that I thought maybe you could squeeze her in.”
He tries for a puppy dog face, but it hardly cracks through her stony exterior. Sophie purses her lips and stares
down at the young girl. She forces a smile. “Of course. Go with the gentleman just outside the door and he will see to it that you get a pass.”
With a wave of excitement, the girl rushes off. Slade smiles, feeling good about his decision to bring her here, despite the fit he knows Sophie is about to throw.
The instant the door closes, Sophie rounds on him. “What do you think you’re trying to pull bringing her here? You don’t have the right to just invite people off the street. We have only a set amount of invites for press and reviewers that can come through before the fans and you just added another girl to our numbers.”
Slade’s shoulders tense. “So you’re telling me that the press and reviewers are more important than a loyal fan? That girl owns every single one of Tamsin’s books. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Sophie blinks, shocked. “No… I mean, yes,” she stammers, rubbing her temples. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, that’s certainly what you said.” Slade turns and slams the door to the signing room behind him.
Never in a million years would he have thought Sophie would be just as bad as Tamsin. He knew she was an agent and as such, has the same pressures to produce as Tamsin, but he never would have thought it was all about publicity.
It’s all just a game to these people and he’s sick of it.
He speaks with Mr. Timmons just outside and receives a key to his room. Sophie checked him in when she first arrived so he wouldn’t be seen before the big event.
He takes a couple of minutes to unpack, letting his hand linger on the polo he wore the night he should have met up with Ashlyn. The scent of Tamsin’s perfume still lingers on the material. He closes the case and walks away, tormented by guilt.
As Slade unbuttons his shirt in his room and tousles his hair, prepping to head down for his final event, he can’t help but look back over the past few weeks. Ashlyn was right when she told him his life would never be the same. The only problem is… he’s not sure if he’s any better off.