“Ace…”
“No. I love you, Dawn. So fucking much it hurts.”
I feel something inside me give and melt away, some wall that I didn’t know was still standing giving way for good as he looks into my eyes.
“I love you too. So much,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes for a moment as though savouring those words, and then, like the old-fashioned gentleman he is, he drops to his knee, and holds up the ring box. He pops it open and holds it out to me; the ring is stunning, a classic diamond set in platinum.
“Marry me?” he asks.
I’m surprised he even has to phrase it as a question because he knows damn well what my answer is going to be. I grin broadly, unable to keep the smile from my face any longer.
“Of course, I will.”
He takes the ring from the box and carefully slides it onto my ring finger. It fits perfectly. I stare at it for a moment, trying to make the sight of the ring glittering softly in the evening light feel like reality, but I still can’t quite believe this is happening to me.
Then, he stands and, pulling me close and kisses me. All of this is real, all of this is happening, and all of this is mine. Balancing the wine on the edge of the handrail and wrapping my arms tightly around him, I return the kiss. I swear that my feet lift a few inches from the ground as he kisses me, and my head is in the clouds by the time he pulls back.
“You want me to grab that ice cream?” he asks, a filthy smile on his face.
“Out here?” I ask surprised.
“Why not?” He replies. “Start this engagement the way we mean to go on… full of dirty surprises.”
“What are you going to do?”
“It’s a surprise, baby.”
“Okay.” I giggle, more than a little giddy.
He kisses me on the mouth once more and heads inside to get the ice cream. My heart loops with excitement as I take another sip of my wine. We’ve never done anything this public before, but it’s always been a fantasy of mine and I can hardly wait.
I watch as he makes his way inside, and I feel this swell of love for him. “I love you!” I call after him.
He turns and smiles at me. “I love you too,” he repeats the words back to me.
I lean back against the handrail, content. A glass of wine in my hand, a ring on my finger, and my gorgeous new fiancé just about to return to fuck my brains out in no doubt endlessly creative new ways.
Does it get any better than this?
No. It. Doesn’t.
The End…
Coming soon…
The Promise
Unedited
Georgia Le Carre
&
River Laurent
Cole
Her smell is in my nostrils, which is plum stupid because while it’s true she is back in town, but she’s miles away. Letty, who runs the Lake hotel called to tell that she arrived last night. From that moment on, I stopped being able to function. Damnit to hell all I want to do is hold her again.
My body feels like it is a tiny iron filling and there is a giant magnet pulling at it. The draw is so strong I have to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from grabbing my car keys and going to her. She fuckin’ hates you. Let it alone. You’ve survived all these years. Just damn well leave it alone, Cole Finley.
I glance at my watch for the hundredth time and pace the floor of my library restlessly. The funeral must surely be over by now.
A car comes up the driveway, and I stride over to the window. Impatiently, I watch my mother take her time getting out of her car and walk up to the door. She is still dressed in the black outfit she wore to the funeral. I turn away from the window, relax my hands, and wait while she travels through my house, and stands at the doorway.
“What does she look like?” My voice is hoarse and throbbing with need.
My mother’s eyes widen with surprise. Then, with a defeated sigh, she heads to the drinks cabinet. Barely able to control myself, I wait while she pours out a large measure of vodka. No chaser. She drinks it down as if she needs it and slams the glass down on the counter. “She looks like a star,” she says flatly.
I run my hands through my hair. “But does she look happy?”
My mother raises her eyebrows. “She was attending her stepmother’s funeral after all so one shouldn’t really expect cartwheels.”
I stare at her with frustration, my shoulders tense. “You know what I mean. Does she look like she is happy with her life? Like she made the right decision to leave here?”
My mother shrugs delicately and walks over to a sofa. She settles herself and leans back on the leather. “It’s hard to say, but she looks like she no longer belongs in Black Rock.”
My chest tightens with pain. Even breathing hurts. “Was she there…alone?”
My mother’s eyes fill with pity. “Yes.”
That one word feels like fireworks exploding inside my body. “Ma.”
“Yes?”
“I need to see her again.”
My mother’s face tightens. “Don’t do that, Cole. She’ll be gone by tomorrow and your life will go back to what it was. Don’t spoil it. Don’t make it harder for yourself...and her.”
“I just want to see her for a moment.”
My mother leans forward. Dr. Westwood’s injections have made it impossible for her to frown, but I know that expression. She is trying to. “It’s a terrible idea Cole.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
“Oh, darling. She’ll destroy you.”
I start backing away from her. “I just want to see how she is. After all this time, no one can’t begrudge me that one thing. If she’s truly happy, I’ll walk away. I swear it.”
“Cole,” my mother calls, but I am already gone.
I get into my car and hit the accelerator hard. The wheels spin on the asphalt. All those years ago she broke me, and maybe she will again, but I don’t care. I have to see her one more time. There’s been no one since she left. Every woman leaves me cold. No matter what they do or say it is no good. My cock is numb.
It is waiting for only one woman. Her.
Taylor
A light spring breeze lifts the side-swept bangs off my forehead. The air smells clean with a hint of freshly dug earth. It makes a heavenly change from the smog of LA. I breathe it deeply into my lungs. Through the lenses of my dark glasses, I watch the priest say the last rites. His voice is gravelly and solemn.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
There should be sadness in my heart. Instead there is nothing. I think of her as she was. Beautiful and cold. No, cold is the wrong word. I guess she was bitter. She always viewed me as the competition, but when Dad died and left the house to me with the provision that she could live her life out in it, I became the enemy. How she hated me, silently, coldly, viciously.
While I lived with her I hated her back with an equal intensity, but after I left with a broken heart, I understood her bitterness. My father shouldn’t have left the house to me. It was a betrayal. He should have left it to her. She was his wife. I sent her money every month even though she neither acknowledged it, or thanked me.
I look down at my black Louboutins. I should have known better than to wear them. The heels are too high, and if don’t hold them with the spikes hovering slightly above the ground, they sink into the soft earth.
The priest stops speaking and turns his head to look at me.
I drop the red rose in my hand on the white casket and I turn around to leave. People I have not seen or heard for ten years mill around me. They wear concerned expressions, well-meaning faces filled with genuine kindness and regret. They are good people. I grew up with them. Almost family. But I can’t let them unravel me.
Smiling vaguely at no one in particular I quickly start walking towards my car. Marco, my driver rushes to open the door of the hired car. I slip in smoothly. He closes the door and I exhale. I’ve done my duty. I’ve given her a good burial.
M
arco gets in and winds the partition down. “Hotel?”
“Yes,” I confirm quietly.
“Right,” He nods and actives the remote partition upwards.
“Wait,” I blurt out. “No. Not the hotel. Take me to my mother’s house first.”
“Got it,” he says smartly.
The car goes through the streets. It is like being in a time warp.
Nothing has changed, Dairy Queen, Tucker’s Diner, the plastic dog outside the hardware shop. There’s old Jenkins sitting outside his tattoo shop sunning himself with a beer can in his hand. His face is pure leather, but he is still alive and well. We used to pop firecrackers into his mailbox and he would run out of his house his face purple with rage, screaming blue murder.
Marco drives up to the house.
The shutters are drawn. There is a sad air of stillness and neglect around it.
“You can go back to the hotel, Marco. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod and get out of the car. It is strange not be mobbed by paparazzi and fans. Actually, it’s rather wonderful not to have to run like a criminal from the car to the door all the time. For years, I believed I wanted fame. I wanted to be recognized everywhere I went. I wanted to be a big star, but now I know I don’t.
Marco drives away and I go up the wooden steps to the wide porch. I glance at the rocking chair at one corner and feel an odd twinge. A feeling. How strange. I haven’t felt anything for years. My cell rings, the sound muted, but oddly jarring. As if my other busy life has already come to intrude. I take it out of my purse and look at the screen. It’s Nick, my manager. I walk to the rocking chair. Sitting in it I click accept.
“Where are you now?” he asks.
“At the house.”
“You mean the funeral is already over?”
“Yeah,” I reply distantly. I don’t want to talk to him. The sound of the chair creaking against the wood is soothing. My mother used to sit here a lot with me in her lap after she fell ill. I close my eyes. Memories swarm back. Memories of Mom, memories of Dad, memories of Cole. My stomach clenches into a painful knot. I push the images away and open my eyes.
“Are you all right?” Nick sounds concerned, whether for me or my career is hard to tell, but he is definitely genuinely concerned.
“Yes.” My voice is clipped and hard.
“You sure you don’t want me to come?”
“Absolutely. I’m not hanging around long, anyway. I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s good. There’s nothing left for you in that godforsaken town.”
“No,” I agree, but an ache deep inside me starts to throb. I left something here, Nick. I left my heart.
“All right, then. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to talk, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Love you,” he says.
“Call you later.”
I end the call, close my eyes and try to think of Nick’s warm brown eyes. He cares about me. I have a good life in LA.
My eyes are drawn to the magnolia tree. The swing is gone, but the treehouse is still there. I bite my lip. Maybe later I will go and explore it. I slip my shoes off, take the key from under the flower pot, and open the front door. Inside it is dim and full of still shadows.
I close the door and lean against it. I breathe in the stale and musty. Underneath it there is a strong chemical odor of medicine. My step-mother lived here alone for the last six years.
For a moment, I have an overwhelming desire to walk out of the house, and call Marco to come back and take me to the hotel, then I decide that I don’t want to see anyone at the hotel. I’m tired and I just want to sleep.
The doorbell rings and the sound startles me. I look through the peephole and see Mrs. Tucker from next door standing outside. She is in her Sunday best. Suppressing a sigh, I open the door.
“Hello Taylor. I’ve brought you some casserole. I thought maybe we could have lunch together.”
I hang on to the doorknob and plaster a smile on my face. “Thank you, Mrs. Tucker. That is so kind of you, but honestly, I’m just not in the mood to eat anything right now.”
Her face fall which kinda makes me feel guilty, but I just can’t face having to make small talk with anyone right now. She holds the container out to me. “Well then, honey, you eat it when you feel like it. I’ll be at home if you need me.”
Reluctantly, I take the casserole that I know I will never eat. “Thank you.”
She turns to go then spins back. “I’ve followed your career, you know. You’ve done our little town proud, my girl. Both Mr. Tucker and I are very proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tucker.”
“Well, I just though you should know.”
“It’s very kind of you to say that. Thank you.” I smile again.
“Well, all right. I’ll be going, then.”
“Good bye, Mrs. Tucker.”
I put the casserole on the kitchen table and the doorbell goes again. With a frown, I go to answer it. It’ll probably be another neighbor bearing more food I can’t eat. I don’t even bother to look through the peephole this time. I open the door and smile at Betty Crankshaw. She is wearing a blue hat and carrying a cake tin.
“I’ve brought some muffins for you, love. I know you love blueberry muffins.”
Cole
I rush through a red traffic light and turn into Mullholland drive. God, I’ve not been here ever since she left. I park the car outside her mother’s house. I walk up to the door and ring the bell. It goes unanswered for a long time and I’m about to ring it again when she opens the door.
The moment I see her face I regret ever letting her go. My heart aches with need. God, how stupid I was. What a fucking kid I must have been to have let her go.
And for what?
Look at her.
She’s not happy.
She used to glow with happiness. I should have chained her to me instead of letting her go to carve her name in lights. It was a mistake. I have to make her fall back in love with me again.
Her full lips part. “Cole,” she breathes and for a second it is as if no time has passed. The other kids are singing Cole and Casey K-i-s-s-i-n-g in the Tree to us. She’s my girl and I’ve come around to take her to the movies. I stare at her mouth. I’m dying for a taste. She used to taste like honey.
Then the past disappears like smoke, and her eyes become hard. “What do you want, Finlay?”
“You,” I say.
Something flashes in her eyes. “You’re a bastard, you know.”
“I shouldn’t have let you go, Taylor.”
“Get out of my house,” she growls.
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“What? she sneers. “Did you fall somewhere and hit your little head? Because we were finished ten years ago.”
“We’re not finished until I say so.”
She moves suddenly to slam the door and I put my palm on it completely arresting its movement.
“Do I need to call the police?” she huffs, her eyes stormy.
“All I want to do is talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Her voice is bitter.
“Then it’ll be a very short conversation, won’t it?”
She sighs and moves away from the door. “Say what you need to say and get out.”
I go into the house and close the door. She leads the way into her mother’s sitting room.
‘Talk,” she says, folding her arms in front of her body.
I walk up to her. “Did you achieve everything you wanted to? Was it worth it?”
“Yes,” she snarls, her voice trembling defiantly. “I grabbed the opportunity when it presented itself and I left this god-forsaken town.”
I stare down at her glittering eyes. “No regrets?”
“None.” The word is clipped like a bullet.
I look at her face and feel as if I cannot go another minute without mak
ing her mine. “Well, I have. I should have done it differently. I want you, Taylor. I’ve been wanting you for the last ten years. I’ve waited all this time, but no more. I won’t be denied for another second. I’m going to have you right now.”
Her eyes widen. “No,” she gasps, but I notice she doesn’t move away. I wrap my hands around her too thin body, and my mouth descends down on hers, crushing, hungry, fierce.
She whimpers with the force of my kiss.
I lean in and lift her up into my arms. Her hands go around my neck. Her round eyes stare up at me, helpless, vulnerable…mine. I lift her into my arms. Fuck, it’s like picking up a child. Doesn’t she ever eat anything in LA?
I carry her up the stairs. She burrows her face in my chest, but I can feel her trembling in my arms. I kick the door open to her old room. Her stepmother has kept it almost exactly how it was when she was living there.
I lay her on the single bed and look down at her.
She is about to find out that she belongs to me and only me.
To be continued…
Untitled
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