Once Upon a Time

by Luna Doerr

  I consider that idea for a minute. If I were Zoe, with all the brazen confidence that comes with being Zoe, that might work. But I’m not Zoe. I’m … Erica.

  And Erica is still being treated like dirt by Charles, her husband, the man she loves without reservation, the man she had waited years for. Spent endless, sleepless nights worrying about during the war. How can he still be going to the madam’s after Erica made it perfectly clear that she wants him at home? After she made clear that as his wife she wants to meet his needs at home?

  “No. I’m over that. But you go. You can tell me about it later.”

  “Well alright. But if you change your mind …”

  I know I won’t change my mind. I won’t even read the book. I have Friday evening all planned out in my mind already. Chinese takeout. A loud action movie on television. An early bedtime, maybe with a hit of cold medicine to keep my sleep blissfully dreamless.

  42

  Alaric

  It’s bittersweet being back at this bookstore, I think as I uncap and cap my fountain pen like a nervous tic. It’s the same bookstore Caterine had come to with the book for her friend. The bookstore where I had given her my phone number, a number she’d had no intention of calling.

  Well, probably no one has ever called Caterine Schwartz dumb. Meeting me didn’t exactly improve her life, did it?

  And of course there had been no muse with me at that signing, and no muse today. Just Sim who, without the distraction of my muses, has finally finished his own book.

  I look out over the line that’s forming in the bookstore. It stretches nearly to the mall’s escalator outside the store, so that’s good. At my earlier signings in other cities, there had been some grumbling about the lack of a muse but not as much as I had feared. Perhaps Annabeth has done me a favor by bailing on so many appearances with the previous book.

  Not that I wouldn’t have wanted Caterine here tonight. I paid her the bonus but according to the bank none of the checks have been cashed. I thought about driving to her mother’s house in Pennsylvania and just dumping a bag of cash on her doorstep. She earned the money; I wish she would just accept it.

  “Hey. It’s six-thirty,” Sim points out. “Show time.”

  I uncap my fountain pen again and plaster as genuine a smile as I can muster on my face. If only every signing didn’t remind me of Caterine, these things would be infinitely easier.

  But I smile and make small talk and sign books. I ask for people’s names and ignore the business cards and slips of paper with phone numbers scrawled on them that every fifth woman or so drops “discreetly” onto the table.

  A tall redhead approaches and holds out a book. I’m aware of Sim’s keen interest in her already. Sim has a thing for redheads. The woman has a second book in her hands but it’s another copy of mine.

  Sorry, dude.

  In my peripheral vision, I see Sim slide a book off his stack and open it to the flyleaf, ready. Lack of interest has never deterred Sim from anything, much less a beautiful woman.

  “To whom should I sign it?” I ask, smiling even though by then my entire face aches from the effort.

  “To Zoe.”

  My pen pauses for a moment. I look up at her. Caterine’s friend was named Zoe. I remember every detail she shared with me. There was so little she had shared, so it wasn’t that difficult. Next to me, Sim is already inscribing a book to her.

  I dip my head again and write her name and my signature, half flourish, half scrawl. Sim is still writing, his phone number probably. Whatever. This isn’t Caterine’s friend. She wouldn’t have come without Caterine, would she?

  I hand the book back to her and she holds out the other copy.

  “If it’s not too much trouble, could you sign one for my friend?”

  My breathing slows. This is exactly how I met Caterine. She came to my signing to get a book signed for Zoe.

  “Of course. And your friend’s name?”

  “Erica.”

  My pen stills on the page, ink leaking out where I’m pressing it hard on the paper. The spot of ink widens, soaking the page more. A spot of darkness forms in my vision. Then Sim claps me on the back, hard.

  “Breathe, you idiot,” he says. He looks up at Zoe. “How is Caterine doing?”

  “Good. She’s doing real good. We’re both working here in Virginia now.”

  Am I still breathing? I can’t tell. The darkness behind my eyes seems to be growing. Caterine is in Virginia? So close. I blink and try to focus on the page.

  “Shit,” I say as I notice the ink stain on the page. I drop the book beneath the table and open a fresh one. But what to write to her? There isn’t room to say everything that needs to be said between us.

  I miss you more than you can know. Charles.

  I hand the book back to Zoe and watch as she reads the inscription. She smiles. “She’ll like that. Though she’s a little pissed at that character.”

  Sim chuckles beside me. “Aren’t we all?”

  43

  Caterine

  I stumble out to the kitchen, a headache raging from all the MSG I consumed the night before. No more Chinese food for awhile, I tell myself. I need water and an aspirin. Or three.

  “Hey there.”

  I shriek at the sound of a male voice in my kitchen. I blink. Sim Toro is leaning against the counter, a glass of water in his hand. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest. I’m still wearing the tee shirt I slept in … and nothing else.

  “Aren’t we a little past modesty?”

  I take a deep breath. Yeah, I suppose we are past any need for modesty. This man has seen and felt every inch of me.

  “What are you doing here?” I say just as Zoe breezes into the kitchen, her hair still damp from the shower. “Never mind.”

  Obviously, he came home from the book signing with Zoe. And what about … I glance back toward Zoe’s room.

  Sim laughs darkly. “No, he’s not here.”

  A breath whooshes out of my lungs before I can stop it. My heart isn’t sure whether it should be relieved or disappointed.

  “What? You thought we did a threesome?” Zoe asks, her voice laced with incredulity.

  I shrug. If Zoe knew Alaric and Sim the way I do, she’d know that a threesome is not exactly out of the question.

  “Hell no.” Sim pushes himself away from the counter and sets the glass he’d used into the sink. “He’s been a monk since you left.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” I retrieve a glass for myself from the cabinet.

  “So do I, but there it is.”

  “We’re going to breakfast,” Zoe says. “You’re welcome to come.”

  Will he be there? The question lingers on the tip of my tongue. But I leave it unasked, because I don’t care if he’s there, nor do I want to see him again.

  “No, but thanks for asking.”

  “Oh hey. Almost forgot.” Sim slips his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a hotel key card. “Here.”

  My expression turns to alarm. “You’re not inviting me to a threesome?”

  Sim turns to look at Zoe. “I don’t know. Are we, sweetheart?” He winks at the surprised, yet interested, look on Zoe’s face. “No. Not yet anyway. That’s Alaric’s room key. At the Ritz.”

  I thrust it back at Sim like it’s scorching hot. “Oh. Well, I don’t need that.”

  Sim gently pushes it back at me. “Take it. Just in case you change your mind. I think monks are great but, damn, it’s really hard to live with one.”

  I wait until Zoe’s and Sim’s footsteps disappear down the hall outside. I pour myself a tall glass of ice water and swallow two aspirin. Don’t people know how this works? You can’t gift a recovering alcoholic with a bottle of whiskey. Especially a bottle as fine as Alaric White.

  Zoe doesn’t come back after breakfast, so I spend the day cleaning the apartment and doing laundry. Doing generally anything that will keep my mind focused right in front of me and not on the metaph
orical bottle of whiskey lying on the kitchen counter.

  At three-thirty, I finally shower and put on clean yoga pants and a fresh tee shirt.

  At six-thirty, I cave and put on a dress and my black leather boots.

  At six-forty-five, I pull my hair up into a bun, slick on some lipstick and drive to the Ritz.

  44

  Caterine

  By the time I pull into a parking space at the hotel, a light snow is falling. So much for spring. The bar inside is mostly empty. Having spent a winter in the DC area, I know that even a rumor of snow sends most people running for the hills. I don’t mind it so much. My mother had made sure I know how to drive in the snow.

  I’m not sure whether I’m going to use the room key or not. He might not even be in the hotel right now. I could call to find out, of course. Though I had contemplated deleting his number from my phone many times since that day in the hospital waiting room, I never did.

  But if I call, I also might discover that he isn’t alone. I know he has picked up women after his signings before, and he has every right to do it now. But I don’t want to know about it.

  I know I’m not really over him. Will maybe never be over him, not entirely.

  I smile at the cute bartender in his black shirt and black pants, and he heads my way.

  “Well, aren’t you the brave one coming out in the snow?” He wipes down the bartop in front of me. “When we get snow this time of year, it’s usually a blizzard.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. So you might want to get a room if you’re planning to be here awhile.” He smiles a little too suggestively. “Meeting someone?”

  I shake my head. “Just stopped in for a drink. But now that you mentioned blizzard, maybe I should just have a hot chocolate or something.”

  “How about a chocolate martini?” the bartender suggests.

  “Do not serve her that.”

  I recognize the voice instantly. I turn to see Alaric seating himself on the stool next to me.

  “A hot chocolate and an Irish coffee,” he says to the bartender, deftly dismissing the guy.

  I look at Alaric. He is still as gorgeous as ever—and still as nicely dressed as ever in a black cashmere sweater that hugs his shoulders and chest, faded jeans that skim over his thighs and end in a pair of L.L. Bean boots. My heart trips into overdrive as his dark eyes study me intently, without giving away any hint of his intent.

  Probably he’s mad at me.

  “I’m not angry with you, Caterine.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Read my mind.”

  The bartender returns with our drinks, without comment. Alaric takes a sip of his coffee.

  “I’m not reading your mind,” he says. “But I spend a lot of time thinking about the human condition and I am someone whose calls and emails you ignored for months, whose checks you refuse to cash, and whose book signing you didn’t come to last night even though you knew about it since your best friend was there. So it would be reasonable for me to be angry. But I’m not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because your actions are justified, even if I don’t like them.”

  I’m silent, unsure what to say to him now that we are finally face to face.

  “Why are you here, Caterine?”

  I dig in my purse with shaking hands and pull out the room key. I slide it across the bar to him. “Sim left this at my apartment.”

  His eyebrow lifts in surprise. “Were you going to use it?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not.”

  “I didn’t know he gave that to you, so thank you for returning it. I guess I should be glad he gave it to you and not someone else. I apologize for Sim and your friend. Well, you know what he’s like.”

  “No worries. Zoe can handle Sim. She’s not like me.”

  “No one is like you, Caterine. That’s the problem.”

  I fiddle nervously with the mug of hot chocolate.

  “Have dinner with me,” he says.

  I glance down at the room key.

  “In the restaurant,” he clarifies. “I stuck my head in there before I came here. They have plenty of seating tonight. The weather has scared off most of their reservations.”

  In the restaurant, the hostess offers us our choice of tables and Alaric leads me to a booth tucked away in the back. His hand is warm and firm on my spine as he helps me up the small step into the booth.

  To my surprise, he slides in next to me. I’m beginning to regret coming to the hotel already. I should have just tossed the room key in the trash; there was no need to return it to him. Curiosity had gotten the better of me, and now the cat is going to pay.

  He unwraps the knitted wool scarf from around my neck and tugs the elastic holding my hair in its tight bun. Instantly, every follicle on my scalp begins to tingle.

  “You look lovely, as usual, Caterine.”

  I stare at my hands. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “‘Thank you’ usually works.” He tucks his finger beneath my chin and turns my face to him. “There is so much I need to say to you, Caterine. I hardly know where to start.” His eyes darken with emotion. “But thank you for coming to the hospital that day. I know it wasn’t a good day for us. Hell, for anyone. But you did the right thing. So thank you.”

  It’s impossible to look away from the earnestness in his gaze. He has beautiful eyes, dark like the ocean and fringed with soft lashes. Did I notice that before? How lovely his eyes were? I must have.

  “You should have just told me,” I say.

  “I know that. But I was selfish. I wanted you to be my Erica. You still are my Erica.”

  His thumb rubs across my lower lip, then he drops his hand to cover mine on the table.

  “I had planned to tell you eventually, but then … things became more between us. You know that, don’t you?”

  Yes. I know that. There had come a point where we weren’t playacting anymore, where our time together had nothing to do with working or writing or research. It hadn’t surprised me that I was attracted to Alaric or that I had begun to fall for him. He’s an attractive man. Any woman would trip over herself to be with him.

  But that he had been attracted to me? That was totally unexpected. And still not entirely believable.

  “I am never attracted to my assistants,” he goes on, lacing his fingers between mine.

  His touch is unlacing everything I’ve spent months carefully tying down.

  “But I was attracted to you. At first, Sim said it was just because I was in love with Erica. I always fall in love with my characters a little bit. I admit that. But it was more than that with you. So much more, Caterine.”

  He pulls my hand toward him and my body follows. His nearness threatens to overwhelm me. This was a mistake coming here. I want to unlace my fingers from his and pick up a menu to distract myself—to distance myself from the heat and intensity flooding my emotions—but he merely tightens his grip.

  “It’s over between us,” I say quietly, even though every nerve ending in my body is contradicting that statement, screaming that nothing is over. “I have a job here in Virginia now. An apartment. A new life.”

  “Yet you came here tonight. Why, Caterine?”

  Why indeed? I wanted to see you one more time.

  “You didn’t need to return my room key. I have another. You could have tossed it in the trash without bankrupting the Ritz.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses each knuckle tenderly. “You wanted to see me.”

  The touch of his lips against my skin has me close to fainting.

  “Have you eaten anything today, Caterine? Besides the hot chocolate at the bar?” His free hand strokes the line of my jaw. “You look thinner.”

  Have I eaten anything today? I struggle to remember. I had that aspirin way back in the morning. Does that count as food?

  Alaric flags down the waitress and orders soup and steaks for both of us.

 
; “Breathe, Caterine,” he says when the waitress leaves. “If you pass out on me, I’ll have to resuscitate you and I get the feeling that you don’t want me kissing you.”

  But I do want him kissing me. That’s the whole damn problem. I’m dying to feel his lips on mine, on my body, on every single inch of my skin.

  “You’re wrong,” I whisper.

  It’s too late. I’m falling off the wagon. No, I’ve just jumped off the wagon and am rolling in the roadside ditch of my desire for Alaric White.

  45

  Alaric

  I lean in and kiss her, pushing her back against the corner of the booth. I wasn’t planning on doing this. In fact, when I saw her sitting at the bar flirting with the bartender, I vowed not to do this. Not to make a move on her.

  She isn’t my employee any more. She isn’t required to kiss me or act out scenes or in any way indulge my desires.

  But then she went and told me to kiss her.

  Fuck.

  What the hell am I supposed to do with that? What kind of kiss does she want? A sweet kiss? Or the kind I’m dying to give her? The kind that will lead to us naked and in bed in my suite upstairs?

  I moan as the taste of her lips seeps onto my tongue. She tastes of chocolate and sugar and … heat. Pure, white heat. My tongue gently pushes open her lips and she opens the rest of the way immediately. Desire roars through my body and I shift on the seat.

  My cock is already straining against the fly of my jeans. I haven’t been with a woman since Caterine walked out on me last summer. It’s the longest period I’ve ever gone without fucking someone. Oh, Sim has encouraged me to go out and pick up someone, even use one of those online hookup apps. But I haven’t.

  I don’t want a woman. I want this woman, right here. And I’ll be damned if I let her leave this hotel tonight without her being absolutely one hundred percent sure of that.

  I push my fingers into her long hair and plunge my tongue even deeper into her mouth. A small moan escapes her mouth and I swallow it whole, the way I want to swallow everything about her.