by Amelia Wilde
Isn’t that always how it goes?
Finally it comes to me. Jessica. Jess is still in town, and she’ll want to go out before they head back to Saintland and she has to resume her queenly duties. At least, I hope she will, because if not, I’ll bury my head into my comforter and never emerge again.
My thumbs are obviously shaken by the breakup too much to send a coherent text, so I call her instead. She picks up on the second ring.
“Care!” she says brightly, and I hear her daughter jabbering in the background.
“What—” My voice comes out as a sad little croak, and I have to clear my throat before I can force the words out. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Honey, not now,” she says, her voice muffled, and then she comes back on the line. “Care, is something wrong? You sound weird.”
“What are you doing tonight?” I repeat, trying to sound brighter, happier, more whole than I feel at this moment.
“I don’t have—do we have any plans, Alec?” she calls out, and a male voice rumbles in the background. “We don’t have any plans,” she says, her voice still concerned. “Are you needing a girls’ night out?”
“As long as I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“Not possible,” says Jessica, her voice firm. “What time? Where do you want to go? The Swan?”
“No.” I say it too quickly, and Jess is silent. “I mean—let’s just go somewhere where nobody will know us. Do you know someplace more out of the way that your security detail won’t have a problem with?”
When Jessica speaks again, I can hear the smile in her voice right over the phone. “Of course I do. I’ll come by at eight and pick you up.”
“Great.” My shoulders sag in relief. At least I won’t be alone tonight, even if I am staring at a lifetime of loneliness.
“And Care?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”
“I hope so.” That’s all I can say.
The silence lingers between us for a few moments.
“I’ll see you at eight,” says Jess gently, and then the call is disconnected.
I’m completely disoriented. What time is it, even? It can’t be later than, what, five-thirty?
I’m stunned to find out that it’s just past six o’clock. My five-minute breakdown must have lasted much longer than five minutes. I’d always considered myself a pretty accurate judge of time, but my brain fell apart when Ace left.
What’s he doing now? Is he up in his penthouse?
If I go up there right now, can I fix what happened? Can I make everything right between us? Let him know that I understand now that none of this—none of it—has been worth it if it means losing him?
You’ve already lost him, I tell myself sternly, and I try to straighten my shoulders, but they feel too heavy.
There are several thing I need to do right now, and none of them include falling into a heap on the floor and sobbing until my chest feels empty. So, as much as the floor beckons to me, I resist.
I’m meeting my friend in less than two hours.
I struggle with turning the shower on for almost thirty seconds before remembering that the knob goes the other way. What the hell is happening to me? Another man walks out of my life and I turn into this?
I’ve been really good at getting over men. I’ve had to be. Because my adulthood has been nothing but a string of men coming into my life and walking straight back out again.
But Ace—Ace is different.
Ace made me want to be near him whenever he walked into a room. Ace was irresistible, and it wasn’t just because of his body.
“Stop,” I say out loud over the rush of the shower. “Stop.”
I’m torturing myself needlessly, because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Ace is never—never—coming back to me.
I stand on the chilly bathroom tiles and strip off my clothes, letting that action sink in, and all it does is deepen the hole in my heart until it’s nothing less than a pit of despair.
I practice a smile.
Then another.
My face feels frozen in grief and I feel hollow and lifeless, but Jess will be coming, and I can’t look like a complete freak if we’re going to go out—even if everything is crumbling down around me. Even if the whole world is on fire.
I step into the shower and let the hot water flow down over every inch of my skin. I stay in there until I can’t stand it anymore, and then I step out, unconsciously towel myself off, and finally muster up enough strength to blast my hair with the hair dryer, brushing and straightening until it’s gleaming perfection. Makeup. A dress that makes me ooze sex appeal. Shoes.
I go through the motions.
When Jess knocks on the door just after eight, I’m ready to face the world.
At least on the outside.
Chapter 38
Ace
In the elevator on the way to the penthouse, I have to brace myself on the wall to keep from tumbling over, from being sick all over the floor.
Carolyn twisted the knife, then she twisted it again. She pretended to love me, and then she yanked it away just when I was reaching out. To top it all off, she let me fall to my knees in front of her and then kicked me when I was down.
Until Elisa, I had no idea that people could be so cruel, so thoughtless, so selfish. And I was cruel and thoughtless and selfish myself. Only I didn’t see it that way.
Love changed me.
And now another bout of misplaced love has made it absolutely fucking clear how worthless it is.
I was sure when Elisa died that I’d never feel anything for anyone again, but even on the flight home, I could feel the barriers around my heart starting to crack, starting to break away from the numbness. Elisa loved life. She was devastated when they gave her the diagnosis, but she never stopped appreciating the people and things she had around her. For fuck’s sake, she spent most of her last days comforting me.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of here,” I’d sobbed into her shoulder, late one night when all the nurses were gone. I fucking hated crying in front of her. I haven’t cried in front of anyone since then, and I don’t think I ever will.
“You tried your best,” she said, leveraging all her strength to lift an arm and put it on my shoulder, her fingers brushing my cheek. “My father’s not the easiest man.”
He was a complete douchebag who tried his best to get me thrown out of the hospital on her last day. I never thought I’d meet someone more conniving, more cutthroat, than that man.
Maybe he has a match in Carolyn.
My heart is pounding so furiously that I can’t get my mind to settle down enough to go over what she said. Something about a rainflower, a website she runs.
My chest seizes up. Not only did she go behind my back and have me investigated, she’s been profiting off the entire thing.
Profiting off Elisa.
I’m not in love with my dead ex-wife. The moment her fire was extinguished, I could feel myself starting to move on, starting to move back into the world. I just thought I’d approach it with a numb, stone-cold heart for the rest of my life.
Carolyn changed that and then she took advantage of it.
That’s probably why she talked to me in the first place. That’s probably the only reason why she wanted to sleep with me. Not because she was actually attracted to me, but because she wanted a good lay that came with a great paycheck.
What a fucking whore.
Even as I think it, my mind recoils from giving her such a nasty label.
She was just doing her job, a soft, pathetic voice in the back of my mind argues. She might not have realized how serious things were until it was too late to back out.
I slam my hands against the elevator wall, my throat closing up, my face turning red. I’m not going to cry over that bitch.
She’s not a bitch.
God, isn’t this just fucked up? I want to rage at Carolyn, I wan
t to march back down and yell at her until she’s absolutely clear on what she’s done to me, and even now I know in my shattered heart that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.
That’s the bitch about love.
It keeps you trapped in its claws until it’s too late to do anything.
The elevator lets me out on my floor and I stab the key into the lock. Three tries and I finally get the door to swing open, slamming it behind me.
I haven’t been inside for fifteen seconds when I know I have to leave.
I text Noah.
He’s the only person I can think of who will be available on such short notice. Thank God I pay good people to be on my staff, or I’d be fucked right now. I’d be drowning myself in alcohol and sorrow, and I’m not going to do that.
That’s a lie. I might drown myself in alcohol tonight, but I’m not going to do it alone.
Bring the car around in twenty minutes. Be ready to go out.
Got it, boss.
I don’t even send him a snarky reply telling him not to fucking call me that. I just toss my phone onto the bathroom counter and turn on the shower, as hot as it will go.
Even the heat, which verges on painful, can’t wash away the throbbing in my shoulders, the twisting knife that arcs through my chest with every breath I inhale.
I stare at the wall while I let the water hit me, jaw clenched, trying not to fucking scream from the frustration and the tension wracking my body.
It’s fifteen minutes before I can bring myself to get out, yanking the towel off the hanger so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t come out of the wall.
I have to get myself under control if I’m not going to get us thrown out of someplace tonight.
I have no idea where the hell we’re going to go, but it’s not going to be here.
The first clothes in my hands are the ones that go on, and I’m startled when I see myself in the mirror. My face is too red to be healthy.
Noah’s waiting downstairs, but I take another five minutes and force myself to breathe until I’m a more natural color.
Nothing is ever going to be natural again without her.
“Fuck that,” I say to my reflection. “Fuck that.” I can move on. I have no other choice. If Carolyn is gone, I’m going to have to fill the void with something.
And I’m going to have to start right now.
Chapter 39
Carolyn
Jess takes me to the Bystander, a dive bar she used to frequent back in her college days. The instant we walk in, I know why she chose the place.
Nobody from our crowd would ever go here.
The booths are covered in ratty upholstery and the clientele seems to run the gamut from collegiate hipsters to a few rougher types in their thirties. I’m way overdressed.
I don’t care at all.
The music is so loud it hurts my ears, but I throw my arms above my head and give a whoop that makes Jessica laugh.
“We don’t have to stay if you don’t like it,” she shouts over the music.
“Bar!” I say, pointing emphatically toward the bar. She follows me as I shove through the crowd and right up to the pitted bar top, leaning my elbows against it, making room to either side. There are two bartenders working tonight. It’s a Tuesday, but the place is jam-packed. I shout an order at the bartender for two Long Island iced teas and then grin back at Carolyn, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
She frowns.
“This place is insane,” I shout over the music.
“What’s wrong?” She has to shout back, but the bartender taps my arm. The drinks are ready. I shove a twenty across the bar at him, take the drinks, and make my way back into the crowd.
We find a tiny table that’s just large enough for two people to stand at and sip the drinks, Jess swaying a little to the music.
She looks across the table at me and narrows her eyes, and I give her a big, cheesy smile that does absolutely nothing to mask the fact that my heart is tattered in pieces, splattered all over my apartment.
“What’s wrong?” she says again.
I can tell her. I know I can tell her. I just don’t want to start now, here in this crowded dive bar. I was the first to find out about Alec and her new life in Saintland. She can be the first to find out that, yet again, I’ve been dumped, only this time it really is all my fault.
“Ace broke up with me.” It seems to go silent in the bar as I shout the words at top volume, and I feel my face go red, but then the sound comes crashing in again and I realize that nobody is looking at me.
Only Jess, who’s biting her lip with a frown that nearly undoes me.
I choke on the lump in my throat and look down at the surface of the table, which is sticky with spilled drinks and littered with peanut husks. Then Jess’s arm is around my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug. She doesn’t give a shit that we’re in public. She doesn’t give a shit that she’s the Queen of Saintland. She’s still a good friend.
I gulp back a sob, but I can’t force out any more words. There’s no way I can explain to her what happened—not here.
I just want to have a good time.
I just want….
“Let’s dance,” Jess says into my ear, rubbing her hand up and down my arm. “Come on.”
She releases me and goes back around the table to gulp down a good half of her drink, then winks at me. I can’t help but smile back and follow suit, and we abandon the half-empty drinks and head for the dance floor.
They had more alcohol than I thought because I already feel tipsy, and suddenly the music seems warm and fun, like everything’s going to be okay.
In the crowd I catch a glimpse of a man with blond hair and a cut jaw, wearing a red shirt. My stomach turns over and plummets straight to the floor. I spin around, running into Jess in my panic to get out.
“Oh, my God!”
“What—” She peers over my shoulder. “What are you doing? Who did you see?”
“Ace!” I cry, whipping my head back around.
“Where?” Jess’s forehead wrinkles while she searches the people on the dance floor for his face. “I don’t see him, Care.”
The guy in the red shirt reappears, and I see in a jarring instant that it’s not him. It doesn’t look like him at all.
I shake my head a little, covering my eyes with my hand.
“Maybe I should just go home.”
“No,” Jess says firmly, hooking her arm through mine. “We’re out. I’m leaving for Saintland in a few days, and I want to have a good time with my best friend.”
She hauls me out onto the dance floor again, and when I stand there, stock-still, she takes my hands in hers and tugs them until I’m swaying with the music.
My heart is a gaping wound in my chest, and every breath is agony, but it’s not long before I lose myself in the beat, following Jess’s lead.
“More drinks!” she cries after a few minutes and disappears to the bar, leaving me in the swirling mass of bodies on the dance floor.
I don’t care.
What’s to care about?
The most important thing in my life is over, so I might as well dance.
I throw myself into it, happily accepting the shot she brings and throwing it back. She’s gone for another moment, putting the shot glasses somewhere, I assume, and then we’re drunk and dancing.
The men start to circle not long after, and I find myself with my hands on their shoulders, my hands sliding down abs that don’t hold a candle to Ace’s. The hours melt away in a blur of music and dancing and drinks presented to me by handsome stranger after handsome stranger. At one point I find myself with my mouth pressed against another man’s and laughing, laughing while I do it.
Because it’s not Ace.
It’s not as good as Ace, and nobody ever will be.
Ever, ever, ever.
Chapter 40
Ace
Wednesday I go through the motions at my father’s office like a robot, una
ble to force a smile onto my face. Nobody notices. Or, if they do, they don’t say anything because I’m the boss’s son.
That’s one perk to being filthy rich and related to the man in charge. Nobody questions it if you’re suddenly a numb, soulless husk of a person, just going through the motions.
I want this to be over.
I want this drowning, suffering feeling to end so I can move on with my life.
Move on to what?
I don’t know.
I don’t know what’s worth it.
I’ll always have enough money to do whatever I please. I made sure of that long ago, and I assure myself of that every day when I check my investments, make small adjustments, put money here, transfer money there.
That’s not going to be an issue.
But when it comes to women….
Is it worth it?
Carolyn’s face floats up in front of my mind a hundred times throughout the day, and each time it takes my breath away.
I haven’t heard from her since yesterday. I don’t want to hear from her.
That’s not true.
I want to hear from her more than anything, but I’ll be damned if I let myself get sucked back in with her.
I won’t.
I leave the office at five o’clock and walk out without saying anything to anyone. People duck into offices to stay out of my way, which I consider a silver lining. It’s not like I’ve necessarily been rude. I haven’t been anything at all. They must sense that the time isn’t right to have an encounter with Ace Kingsley.
As I slide into the backseat of the Bentley, my phone buzzes, and I automatically swipe across the front to see who the message is from.
Too late, I realize that I’m half-hoping it’s from Carolyn.
I roll my eyes at my own fucking stupidity.
The message is from Eli Pierce.
My first instinct is to ignore it.
You free tomorrow?
Depends.
On what?
Where you’re going
I take it the Swan is out?
He’s very perceptive.
Not in the mood.