I want to hurl that video game controller at his head. “Get out of my house.”
“Nothing to be ashamed about, Asher. I actually rather like Nora, she’s different.”
And that word right there grates on my nerves even more. Because she is different, and I fancy her because of it.
“Listen, why don’t you two kiss and make up, and then we can all go somewhere this weekend. How about Ibiza? The Canary Islands? Oh, we could go to Santorini …”
I don’t feel like listening to his little spoiled brat antics right now. Ed knew nothing about sacrifice or struggle, he’d grown up with not a care in the world and a silver spoon up his arse. Walking out, I took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t bother to follow, for all I knew he was showing himself out or trying to nab some food from the kitchen staff.
There is a room at the end of the hall on the third floor of our brownstone that I never venture into. Sometimes locked, always with the door closed, it was my mother’s room. The one that still houses her baby grand piano, dusted and maintained but never played. It hasn’t played a note in ten years.
I’m not sure why, but today I keep going, I don’t turn off into another room even when my stomach drops out, even when I feel like I might punch a hole through the door.
Slowly, I open it. I’ve only come in here twice since her death, but I strain to smell her scent. Lilies and vanilla, she was always so elegant and put together. But, just like her image, the scent has vanished from my mind. Nothing looks familiar, and I can’t conjure up a memory of her sitting at the bench, practicing her playing in rhythm with the metronome.
As the years have progressed, I’ve been able to picture her face less and less. Sure, there are still the odd assortments of photographs I find myself mesmerized by, but if I sit in the dark and just think about my mother, it is exceedingly hard to recall her features. Her green eyes, the same as mine, her dark brown hair always perfectly done in one of those buns on the back of her neck. That tiny gold necklace she always used to wear, the one with the locket and her parent’s pictures inside.
What I can remember, always toward the end of her life, was that deep, depressive sadness that sat in her eyes like a mourning veil.
The room is a light blue, with pictures of different blue flowers all over the wall. It’s the only place in the house that still has some sort of feminine touch, and all of her keepsakes are still in here … as if one day she’ll be returning for them.
Sitting on the bench of the piano, I have to bite my fist to keep from screaming. I feel like someone coming unleashed, like the fabric of my soul is being torn apart and I can’t decide which way to follow it.
Glancing up, my mother’s picture stares back at me. She’s young, probably caught in a moment in time before I was even born. In the photo, she’s laughing on the beach, looking at something behind the camera.
I can’t ever remember her that happy.
According to my father, shortly after I’d turned two she started her affair with Bennett McAlister. They’d been childhood sweethearts, and then she’d met my dad and fate had turned out differently. But once she’d seen Bennett again, it was all over.
I may not remember much about her life, but I was fully knowledgeable on her death. The way the papers reported her blood alcohol level, twice the legal limit to drive an automobile. They questioned why she’d been on the bridge that night, so late when no one even saw her make a splash into the frigid Thames. It wasn’t until two hours later, when the men who cleaned up the streets of London, came out for their five a.m. route and saw the mangled metal where she’d driven over.
Resolve settles in my gut, and I know that I have to continue.
“Ed!” I yell, hoping he’s still in the house.
“Yeah, mate?” he calls up the stairs.
“We’re going skiing.”
“Righto!”
Pulling out my phone, I finally open the messages I’ve been avoiding for two days.
Asher: Hey, sorry my phone died. Want to go to the Alps next weekend?
Chapter Twenty
Nora
My travel education and passport have definitely gotten an upgrade over the last six months, but I had seen nothing in this world that compared to the Swiss Alps.
Rolling hills capped with snow, crystal valleys with lakes that held a mirror of the picture-perfect clouds. The freshest air I’d ever breathed, and gigantic pine trees that had probably graced the hills for far longer than anyone who was residing in them had been alive.
Even from the plane windows coming in, my breath had stood still in my lungs. It was as if God or the creator of this beautiful planet, depending on which theory you subscribed to, had put this monumental place here just for people to stop and awe at. And on the ground … it was so much more.
The natural landscape was astonishing, and the upscale resort that Asher had booked only added to its charm. Dozens of log cabin buildings dotted the mountainside, the tall peaks rising up behind the beautiful little village. Korbier was apparently the most upscale, private ski resort in the Alps, and you could only make a reservation after a background and credit check, and three members vouching for your credentials. Naturally, the group of people I was with had no problem.
“We may need to start you out on the bunny hill, Nora.” Ed winks at me as he passes through the sunporch with his plate of breakfast.
He, Asher, Eloise, Speri, and the twins, Lillian and Alexander, that I don’t know as well are all staying in the villa. We got in late last night, my sense of direction and time kind of thrown off coming from rainy London to snowy Switzerland. I hadn’t seen snow since last Christmas in Pennsylvania, and it brought the sense of homesickness rushing back.
The villa had eight bedrooms, all with private bathrooms that had sauna tubs and rainfall showers. It had six fireplaces, a game room, a hot tub, and a sun porch where I had spent almost every hour so far. The room was comprised solely of windows, and the natural light glistening off the snow made the mountain in full view look like some kind of gleaming Mount Olympus.
“You forget that I’m from one of the East Coast’s prime skiing locations, and that I was on a snowboard before you were probably even sucking your thumb.” I sip my coffee, not even turning to address him with my barb.
He snorts from the large arm chair by the fireplace in the corner. “Snowboard? How impoverished of you. And those are measly States mountains. You’ve never seen the Alps before.”
I rolled my eyes, less than intimidated by him. “Just see if you can keep up.”
While my time had mostly been spent in books and computers, I really did enjoy the winter season back home. I wasn’t normally the athletic type of girl, but there was something holy about sliding down the side of a mountain, nothing but the wind in your hair and the cold biting at your face.
“Morning.” Asher sits down across from me, his plate piled high with an English breakfast assortment.
He’s been … different, to say the least. I hadn’t even hesitated to say yes to coming on this weekend trip, which could have not worked well in my favor. We haven’t discussed those two days, or what happened at the opera. I didn’t want to bring it up on the plane ride, where he was friendly but didn’t sit in the seat next to me. And when we’d arrived, he claimed he was tired and took a room on the opposite side of the house from me.
I was trying to trap my questions and feelings inside as to not blurt them out, but I didn’t know how long that would last.
“Good morning. Sleep well?” What I really want to ask is why he didn’t at least try to come to my room.
Not that I’d ever done anything like that, let alone sleep with another person in a bed besides my mom, but we were teenagers on a trip alone. Since we’d started … doing whatever it is that we’re doing, we’d never once been on an overnight trip that gave us this opportunity. And now, when I thought he’d be jumping at the chance, he’d gone to bed like I was the least attractive girl on the face
of the earth.
“I did, yeah. Can’t wait to get on the slopes.” He smiled, and I tried to search for some other meaning behind that.
“Nora, do you ski?” Alexander, who was actually quite nice and unassuming compared to this crew, looked to me.
“I snowboard actually, which I’m sure is a sin on these mountains, but I don’t really change who I am.”
That’s a semi-lie, I’ve changed a lot since moving to Europe, and even more since beginning to hang out with Asher and his friends. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Accepting the invitation to come on this trip, and boarding the plane, that feeling only sank in further. But I made myself a promise as I laid awake last night, wondering about a stupid boy. I was too smart a woman to allow this world, the money and power and lust, change me. I promised myself that I would try to be my most authentic self from here on in.
Glancing across the table, I catch Asher’s eye. There is something unreadable in those green pools, and I’m trying not to ask him what he thinks.
“All right, children … let’s get a move on. I’m going to kick all of your arses out there on that snow.” Ed runs upstairs to his room with all the grace of a toddler.
An hour later, after a stop in at the chalet for some pre-skiing hot apple cider and a tense lift ride, we all stand at the top of the mountain.
“I’m going to take the black diamond run, sissies. See you at the bottom!” Ed takes off, practically diving into the mountainside.
“We’re going to stick to the green circle, thanks. Nora, you coming?” Speri and Eloise head for the easier run.
Lillian and Alexander are still on the lift, something about buying new boots. It’s only us four, standing at the top with the question floating in the air.
“Actually, I’m going to board on the black diamond. But thanks!” I wave them off, and they shrug and start down the easier trail.
“So how about you, pretty boy?” I turn to him, finally alone for the first time in nearly a week.
He smiles, the first truly genuine one I’ve seen since Vienna. “This pretty boy is actually pretty good, if you didn’t know. But then again, I’m doing the real winter sport. I’m not sure what that wonky board you’re wearing is.”
“Bet I can beat you to the bottom.” I can’t help but flirt, because the banter between us feels too good.
Asher moves closer. “I think that’s a bet I just might need to take.”
And without warning, he springs into action, sliding down the slope with the ease and grace of a skilled jungle cat. My muscles move, using their practiced pull and push to get my body into motion.
Once, I’m going, speeding down the mountain full force as I swing my hips and use my arms to balance. Snow flies up behind me, the cool unadulterated air filling my lungs.
At first, Asher is far away, using his skiing poles to propel him faster. But soon, I’m right on his tail, maneuvering around trees and snow drifts down the difficult course.
“Bloody hell!” Asher yells as I pass him, the gleeful smile painting my lips is one of pure happiness.
I’m in my natural element, and all of the worries and doubts about my life right now melt away. I don’t think about the move or the wedding, the paparazzi or college or even Asher. I just let my feet glide along the white powder, the sun beating down upon my face.
As we near the bottom, he and I are neck and neck. I can practically taste the win, and even though I’m not usually a competitive person, I feel the burn of becoming a champion heat my blood.
Ed stands at the bottom, a couple of other resort-stayers watching as we speed down the slope.
But instead of Asher moving ahead of me, or me pulling out the last-minute win … we crest to a stop at the exact same time.
“A tie … so what happens now?” I wipe my brow, the adrenaline from the race coursing through me.
“I guess it means I buy you a drink.” Asher shrugs, and I can’t help but fall under his spell again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nora
“It took a couple of hours, but I got you that drink.”
Asher sets down the glass of wine in front of me, and I don’t take my eyes from the large stone fireplace in the middle of the living room of the villa.
“You really didn’t have to do that. I’m fine with my tea, kind of trying to lay off alcohol.” I test the conversation between us, wanting to talk about the elephant in the room.
Dinner at the chalet was nice, the whole group got dressed up and had good conversation and even better food. Asher and I had made small talk, but it was still going on two days here and we hadn’t addressed anything. And I felt it, the tension or whatever it was. Maybe I was building it up in my head, but I had always valued being up front and honest. I needed to get it all off of my chest.
He sits down on the couch with a foot of space between us. “I didn’t think you drank that much anyway.”
“Well, I made some mistakes in Vienna.”
“I don’t think you did.” His tone of voice makes me think he’s trying to avoid.
I needed to cut the bullshit. “Listen, Asher … I’m still not super sure what happened in Vienna. I got drunk, I said some things, and I got sick. I’m not sure where in there we went wrong … but I kind of thought we had something going. If not, you can correct me. And if you don’t want to continue, then I’ll accept that as well. But I don’t want this awkwardness between us. You don’t have to avoid me, and I apologize for whatever it is that I did. I just want to be an adult about it, because I do genuinely like you. Even if you were a huge arsehole when we met.”
A smile spreads wide across his face. “Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out, you surprise me again, princess.”
He hasn’t called me that since Vienna, and it secretly makes bubbles of giddiness float up from my stomach.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, by the way.” Asher turns to me, his long, muscled arm on the back of the couch. I’m in a trance listening to his clipped British accent, the sound tickling my heart and between my thighs. “If anything, I’m wrong.”
I try not to smile or feel any sense of hope, because maybe this conversation is only leading to the place where we don’t continue what we are doing.
He looks at me in a deep sort of way, like he’s trying to see my soul. “I wanted to be alone with you, you don’t know how badly I wanted that. And when you got sick, I wanted to take care of you. That is what … made me go a little bonkers to be honest. I’m not a one-girl kind of guy, Nora … and I think you know that. I don’t do caring or sensitive or nice. But with you, that’s all I seem to want to do. It makes me a little wonky, makes that arsehole part of me want to rear its ugly head.”
“I’m not asking for anything you don’t want to give, I want to make that clear.” I say it, but I want so badly for him to prove me wrong. To want to want the same things that I do.
“I know that, you never put any expectations on me. But you see, you make me want to be better, Nora. You make me want to have you put expectations on me. And that … scares me. Jeez, I sound like a child.”
“You kind of do.” I promised I’d be authentic. “Asher, I like to be around you. I enjoy our banter and when we hang out. I even like when you kiss me.” I blush, because I can’t talk about being physical with him without getting embarrassed. “I’m new to all of this too, but I do know that I like you and only you. That I’m not afraid to say it or keep … being together.”
There, I’d been honest. My heart was pounding out of my chest as he sat on the other side of the couch, staring at me with those twinkling eyes.
“I want to be together with you too. Only you.” Asher bridged the gap between us, his strong arms coming around me. “And I’ll try not to be a bloody wanker.”
I absolutely melt. “I guess that’s all a girl could ask for.”
His response is warm lips meeting mine, the fireplace crackling in the background as he sto
kes the embers inside of me. It’s the first kiss we’ve shared in what feels like a lifetime, when in reality it was less than seven days.
Asher’s mouth feels new, unexplored, and I am greedy as our tongues meet. He nips at my lip and I moan in surprise, the action catching me off guard but shooting straight to my core. Strong, callused hands wrap in my hair, pulling gently at the strands and moving to caress my neck. My skin is burning up, my fingers reaching to stroke his strong jaw and feel the muscles lurking beneath his black sweater.
“Come to my room. Please.” Asher pulls away, leaving the invitation hanging between us.
The two sides of my brain wage war, debating whether it’s smart to go or stay. But last night, this was all I had wanted … and now it was staring me in the face. I felt it in my gut, this was it. All my life, I’d gotten feelings deep in my stomach about what was right to do and what was wrong.
And right now, going up to Asher’s room with him was the right thing to do. “Okay.”
Everyone was either out at the bar in the chalet, or in the hot tub outside. Quietly, Asher took my hand and led me up the stairs and down the hall to his room. We didn’t talk or kiss on the way, but my skin prickled with anticipation. Where our fingers were locked, I could feel the underlying heat and need.
He pulled me gently inside and locked the door behind me. It was dark, but the white snow covering everything outside the window made everything glow with a light that only the moon could provide.
In that moment, I felt truly vulnerable for the first time in my life. “I’m not … I’ve never …”
Asher cuts me off, putting a finger to my lips. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
I gulp, nodding against his hand. He leans in, kissing me again, and then we’re moving. I grab hold of him, let him make the decisions because I’m not sure I can think with all of the arousal and anxiety buzzing around my head. The backs of my knees hit something solid, and I know that we’re teetering at the edge of the bed.
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