Desperately Ever After: Book One: Desperately Ever After Trilogy

by Laura Kenyon

  Rapunzel’s head spun with questions as he turned to set the tray on her desk. That accent of his was simply unfair. How could she successfully cast someone aside who said things like “rager” and “mates?”

  She sat back down and surveyed the bed. “So what did we …”

  “Ahh, you don’t remember.” The bed sank as Ethan sat down beside her and pushed a wisp of golden hair from her eyes—her mascara-smudged, splotchy, hung-over eyes. She couldn’t bear to think about how she looked. If he didn’t want to take her home four days ago, he never would now. Oh God. Had she thrown up?

  “You called out of the blue and more or less ordered me to come here and … well, I’m a gentleman so I won’t repeat what you said,” he laughed. “But you sounded in need of assistance. So I came.”

  The ambiguity of his words hung in the air. “You came …”

  He took a second to translate, then looked mortified. “I came here. I traveled here.” Rapunzel felt her insides twist and release. She shook her head. “I wanted to take care of you.”

  “Why?” She used her lack of energy as an excuse to lean into him, to feel his warm skin through her blouse.

  “Are you going to make me say it?”

  “Say what?” That longing from the other night was still there, swelling up inside her.

  “I like you,” he said. “A lot.” His lips were millimeters from her ear now. She craned her neck to fit them better.

  “But you sent me home other night. I thought—”

  “I know what you thought. You told me last night. A dozen times or so.” His lips curled into a smile. A smile right against her ear. “And I said I was trying to be a gentleman.”

  “And last night … you were still a gentleman?” Her entire body quivered inside. She couldn’t take this much longer.

  “Yes.” His finger brushed her cheek. He smelled like heaven. “Although I’ll admit you weren’t very happy about it.”

  Too much talk. No one had ever made her wait this long, or cared for her without an ulterior motive, or burrowed so far into her heart in such a short period of time. Quickly—or as quickly as she could move under the circumstances—she turned her head and clamped onto his lips like she was suffocating and needed his air. There was that swirl again, agonizing and beautiful and—

  He pulled away, cradling her chin in both his hands. Her lungs fluttered with frustration as he searched her eyes for—something. Did he really still need permission?

  “Enough of this. Kiss me,” she demanded. “I want you now.”

  And he did. He shook something away and he dove into her. He kissed her lips, her neck, her eyelids. He nibbled on her earlobes and moved across her shoulders. She moaned as his steady hand worked its way up her stomach and over her breasts, massaging every inch as he lowered her back towards the pillows, cradling her head until it was safely nestled in silk. He released her bra and slid his skin against hers.

  Rapunzel didn’t know whether the world was spinning because of the booze left in her bloodstream, or because of Ethan’s touch. But she couldn’t imagine any better place to be than pressed up against him, running her nails over the thick rungs of his chest and breathing in the smell of sweat and skin. She got a hot burst of energy as he laced his fingers through her hair and pulled—locking her in with those deep, brooding eyes. She ran her tongue along his lips and then snared them between her teeth. They stared into each other as something primal shot across his face. His mouth opened to say something, but he shook it away and dove back into her neck.

  “You can be honorable everywhere else,” she moaned, grabbing his wrists and slamming them against the headboard. “But not here.”

  The pulse was electric. She watched him break free before her eyes—the difference between a controlled fire and an inferno, raging though him, raging into her, until she was howling in pitches she couldn’t muffle no matter how hard she bit down.

  Two hours later, Rapunzel trembled in a bundle of sheets on the floor. Her head rested in the nook between Ethan’s chin and his shoulder. She was exhausted in every way imaginable and had an unusual feeling that, while no words were being spoken, a million messages were flying between them at lightning speed.

  After tracing a network of raised scratches along his chest for a while, she finally found her voice again.

  “What are these from?” she asked, breaking another rule: Don’t ask about his past.

  He let out a loaded sigh. “Oh, that’s old,” he said. “I picked a fight with someone I shouldn’t have back in Stularia.”

  “And he gave you these?”

  He nodded.

  She cupped his chin, ran her thumb along his scruff, and eyed the scratch that ran along his left cheek. “This too?”

  Ethan glanced at the ceiling but continued stroking her hair. His touch was soft and methodical, all the way from her forehead down to the floor. “That too.”

  “Well, I hope it was something worth fighting for.”

  The side of his lips curved up, making Rapunzel feel like she was intruding on a private memory. It must be nice, she thought, to have memories that create that sort of reaction. “It would have been worth it,” Ethan finally answered, “if it went the other way.”

  Rapunzel knocked her head back in disbelief. “You mean you lost? No. You?” She squeezed his arms. “With that big brain of yours and these muscles? What was the other guy made of, bricks?”

  “Boulders, actually,” he joked. “Let’s just say I didn’t always think things out all the way. Used to think I was quite invincible.”

  Rapunzel let out a dismissive laugh. “Everyone thinks they’re invincible when they’re young. I don’t think humility kicks in till you lose everything.” His sympathetic gaze sent up giant warning flags. Too personal. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard,” she added. “I’m actually still invincible.”

  Ethan bowed his head and then propped himself up on his elbows. “Rapunzel,” he said, tilting her chin so they were face to face again. “You don’t need to pretend with me.”

  “What?” The warning flags multiplied and flares began shooting up inside her head.

  “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

  “I dunno,” she sang, pasting on a giant smile. “I give myself credit for quite a lot. Publicist extraordinaire, model, writer, sworn enemy of uptight women everywhere.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” The sheet slipped off his torso as Ethan sat all the way up. “That’s the image you want the world to see, but really you sell yourself short. How many other women survived what you—”

  “Are you hungry?” Rapunzel was on her feet before he could finish. This is what she got for asking questions about his past, but hers was fully off limits. She dove into her bathrobe and cinched the waist. “Personally I’m famished. Where’d those waffles you brought up disappear to? You know what would be perfect right now? Some strawberries and—”

  “Rapunzel.”

  “Maybe Belle can whip something up for us. Is she here? I don’t think you met her last night but—”

  “Rapunzel. Stop.” She did, but shot a million silent protests in his direction. "Do you really not see how amazing you are?”

  She stomped her bare foot on the floor. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Feed me lines.” Her voice was harsh. Evidently she could get angry at a Stularian accent. “You already got me into bed.”

  Ethan took another second to figure out what he’d done wrong, but then he was up. “I’m serious,” he insisted, following her to the window. “Rapunzel,” he repeated, managing to spin her around and hold her still at the shoulders. “I get that you don’t like talking about your past but—”

  “There’s that big brain again,” she said, perhaps overshooting the appropriate level of harshness. “What was your first clue?”

  His arms dropped. “Fine. I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She fidget
ed but said nothing. “Just know that I didn’t walk up to you because you posed for a magazine, or because you’re famous, or even because you’re gorgeous.”

  “No?”

  He flashed that sexy, crooked smile. “It didn’t hurt, but no. I’ve read your books, and I know you’re more than a fast-talking party girl who can sell a million dollar burger to a vegan. You’re extremely deep, and compassionate, and loyal. And you shouldn’t hold any of that back.”

  Focused on her lavender toes, Rapunzel suddenly found herself without a game plan. With the exception of an occasional joke with her friends, she never spoke about her time before Carpale. The montage of her life ran through her head: Parents who didn’t want her. Guardian who exiled her. Suitor who deserted her. Landlords who used her. Playboys who spoiled her. Yup, nothing to be ashamed of there.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “That witch may have taken your childhood, but—”

  “Grethel,” Rapunzel murmured.

  He stopped. “What?”

  Rapunzel took a deep breath. “’Witch’ is an outdated term. She was a fairy, just a misguided one who had a hard life. And her name was Grethel.”

  Ethan thanked her for proving his point. Then he moved close again and put his hands on her arms. “If you ask me, you’re more of an inspiration than all the queens of Marestam put together. You’ve done more with the ten years you’ve been free than most people do in fifty. So many people get one crappy card in life and think it’s an excuse to drown in self-pity.” Rapunzel shrugged. “You’ve actually got real reasons to be bitter, yet you live each day like it’s the only one you have.”

  Rapunzel couldn’t hide the shiver that shot up her spine, since his torso absorbed most of it.

  “Do you have reasons to be bitter?” she heard herself ask.

  “I have excuses,” he said gathering her into a protective hug. Her mind screamed for her to resist, to push him away and not fall for this. But she couldn’t. Then he began to kiss her all over—and all over—again.

  When the lovers finally managed to shower and put on decent clothes, the sky was magenta and gold. Trading their mimosas for merlot, they spent the remainder of the day on the balcony outside her bedroom, sharing a recliner and watching the stars. They talked about politics, philosophy, sports, cars, travel, dreams, and little things they couldn’t stand (like having a roommate, who at least had the good sense to keep herself scarce the entire afternoon). They steered clear of discussing who they were in the past because, well, how could it be any more relevant than who they are now?

  When it was finally time to part, Rapunzel leaned against the driver’s side of Ethan’s Coaché X90. She ran her thumb over his tidy mustache, down the center of his lips, and along the salt and pepper scruff that fanned out along his chin.

  “Is there a name for this look?” she asked. “It’s very sexy.”

  “The facial hair?” His eyes sparkled at they rolled toward hers. “I think it’s called a balbo.”

  “Balbo?” Rapunzel scrunched her nose. “Well, it definitely deserves a steamier name. At least on you. I’ll make some phone calls.”

  Ethan took her hand and kissed it. Then he cupped it with his other hand and placed them over the open window. “Listen,” he said, “I know you didn’t expect me to meet your friends yet.” The word “yet” only elicited a mild flinch on her behalf. “But I’m really glad you invited me to your drunken sleepover.”

  She gave his shoulder a playful shove as he laughed. “But seriously, they’re great. Definitely not like any royals I’ve ever met.”

  Rapunzel laughed. How many royals had he met? “Well, you only met the fun ones. I believe Belle had already locked herself in her bedroom by then. And Snow … well, who knows if you’ll ever meet her.”

  Ethan smiled and took a note from his pocket. What was this? Another phone number? A love letter? Geez, this guy was just a whole other ball game. “Now, don’t ask me how I know. Small world. But this might be the woman Cindy’s looking for.”

  Rapunzel dropped her eyes and unraveled the paper. Kimberly Epson, 55 Baywater Avenue, Riverfell. “What woman?”

  “One big and two small stars, right? Back of the neck?”

  Her face shot up like a rocket. The woman with the tattoos! “She told you about that?”

  Ethan rubbed his chin and glanced away. “Actually, you did.”

  “I did?” Her eyes flew wide. “Shit, that was a huge freaking secret. Huge! Not even Belle or Dawn or—”

  His finger pressed against her lips as he revved the engine. “Rapunzel. Don’t worry,” he said. “You can trust me. All your secrets are safe here.”

  THE MARESTAM MIRROR

  The Opinion Pages

  “True Love Endemic to Realm”

  To the Editor:

  My great-great grandmother, the wise and beloved Belinda Welles, used to say that the foundation of every successful society is love. It’s a belief my family has honored and defended for generations—both as civilians and as keepers of our realm’s official histories.

  Nowhere has this truth been more evident than in the great United Kingdoms of Marestam, a land of opportunity in which servants may become queens, outsiders may be crowned princess, and anyone (as your paper makes FAR too evident) may voice opinions that in other realms would be punished as treason. I have always been proud to call such a place home, and to spread its message throughout the less hopeful parts of the world. (If You Must Bleed, Bleed Rubies, published by Pumpkin Press, is in stores now.)

  But I fear the recent rift in our northernmost kingdom has threatened this. Shaken us to the very core. Belle and Donner of Braddax are by no means the first royals to run into relationship troubles. Nor are they the first to see their faults touted in the headlines. But always, for the greater good and for our way of life, forgiveness and reconciliation have triumphed.

  On that glorious day when Belle banished Donner’s curse with her love, and again when Donner pledged his life to Belle, history declared that they went on to live happily ever after. For the sake of everything we hold dear, this MUST remain true. “Ever after” never said it would be without potholes; but it did—make no mistake—say “ever.”

  If I may be so bold as to amend my great-great grandmother’s words, let me say this: The foundation of a successful society starts out with love. But then it adds a pinch of sacrifice, a dash of humility, and three heaping cups of forgiveness.

  — Ruby Welles, PBF

  Chapter Ten

  BELLE

  “Who knew Marestam General was such a happening spot?” Penny gushed as Belle tried to feign a fraction of her friend’s excitement. Going to the gynecologist was torturous enough without running into both Penny and Snow White on the way. Clearly, the universe hated her.

  Penny, dressed in pink feathery sandals and a green tutu skirt, gave Belle a don’t-wanna-squish-the-fetus hug before going off about her mission to track down a handful of doctors “too busy” to RSVP to Letitia’s party. “It’s less than a week away, for goodness sake,” she grunted. “Not that I blame them. Would you honestly be coming if I wasn’t your friend?”

  “Of course I would,” Belle half-lied. As a fellow queen, she’d have to go regardless of allegiances.

  “Stop worrying,” cooed Snow, knocking her glossy black hair over her shoulder and pulling a braid of lilies forward. “Everyone loves a party. All that joy coming together in one place—it’s unparalleled. You really need to start pushing that negative energy away, Pen, or it’ll blacken your whole aura.”

  Penny stared back dramatically, processing Snow’s words as she swayed in place, wrists first. “Ah,” she finally said, wasting her sarcasm. “Yes. Push the negative energy away. You know, I keep forgetting to do that. Especially now that you’ve stopped coming out in public to remind me.”

  “We’ve all missed you,” Belle piped up to translate.

  Snow gave an airy smile and fanned
out the sleeves of what looked like a sack with arm holes. “That’s fair. I suppose I have been a little elusive lately, haven’t I?”

  Neither woman bothered to deny the obvious, but both leaned in for the explanation as to why she’d been so elusive. After a minute with no such thing, Penny rolled her eyes and settled for asking what Snow was doing at the hospital.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re starting a family too,” she said as Belle shoved her hands into her skirt pockets. “Starting a family” didn’t seem to describe what she was doing. “By the time Logan matures enough for fatherhood, your kids are all going to be a generation older than mine.”

  Snow smiled, assured them that she wasn’t having any babies, and started to float backwards down the hall. “Say hi to Diggory for me,” she sang, smiling wide at the thought of her former roommate. “Boy, do I miss his jokes sometimes. Guy’s got the yellowest aura I’ve ever seen!”

  Belle waved as Snow vanished through the river of clipboard-toting orderlies, meandering patients, and speed-walking lawyers with “visitor” badges stuck to their suits.

  “So,” Penny said, still staring down the hall with her jaw unhinged, “are we sure she was like this before the poisoned apple?”

  Belle shrugged. Today wasn’t the day for chitchat. “I should get going too. My appointment’s in five minutes and—”

  “I think he’ll wait for a queen,” Penny interrupted, and then immediately bit her tongue. With her and Donner’s feud, there was no telling how much longer Belle would be able to use that title. “Why don’t I come with you? Letitia’s a low priority and Dr. Frolick is a riot like Snow said. Plus … you know …”

  Penny trailed off and looked around, waiting for Belle to fill in the blanks. It took a second for the wheels to start spinning and—finally—click into place. Had Penny run into her on purpose so she could hold Belle’s hand through the appointment? Rapunzel could easily have given her the time, and …

  Come to think of it, had Snow really “accidentally” signed up for infertility yoga two years ago when Belle was having troubles? Had Dawn’s new sofa “just happened” to arrive at the furniture shop next to Oak Valley the day Belle was checking her father in? Did Cindy really keep “forgetting” her purses at Braddax Castle so she’d have to swing by? Belle didn’t want to believe it, but it seemed her friends had been quietly filling her husband’s roles for years. It was so obvious now. The realization made her nauseas.