by Scott, S. L.
“I think the makeup that was left when we arrived here is smudged under your eyes and there’s no lipstick left—”
“It’s on you.” She rubs lightly over the corner of my mouth.
“Your hair is messier than we are.”
“Why does sex hair only look good on men?”
I gently bite the tip of her thumb and then kiss it while catching her wrist. “You have signs of being ravaged by an animal in the sack with hickeys on your neck.
“I was.” She laughs. “I look that good, huh?”
I don’t laugh. “You’re breathtaking. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen you.” I kiss her palm and lower to her wrist. “Tell me what to say to keep you here. I’ll say anything you want if I can wake up to you looking this gorgeous every morning.”
Silence fills in her answer. Just when I look up, ready to plead my case, she says, “Every morning? You’ll be sick of me.”
“Never.”
“Don’t you know never to say never?” She sighs as though she doesn’t have the energy for this kind of banter. “There’s nothing you can say, Hutton. It doesn’t matter what I want. I have obligations—”
“It changed from complications to obligations?”
She sits up, so I lean against the headboard. Holding her knees to her chest, she rests her cheek on her knee while keeping her eyes on me. “You’re very good-looking. You know that. Maybe even more so in the morning.”
“What do you see when you look at me?”
“I’ve paid good money to have that perfect shade of dark brown before. Tall. Dark. And handsome.”
I laugh. “What else?”
“Your eyes are intense; the brown is inviting, warm instead of dangerous. Welcoming, though I know you like to think you’re more cocky than comforting. I like how tall you are, and when we were watching the band, your body curved around me. I feel safe and protected when you feel possessive or just horny.”
This time I chuckle. “I do feel possessive of you. I feel protective, and I want you to always feel safe with me. But how can I protect you when I don’t know what I’m protecting you from?”
“You’re the fairy-tale ending I wish I could have.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t.”
Resting back on her elbows, she says, “I want to tell you everything, but once I do, we’ll never be the same. So I have a favor to ask, though I know I have no right to ask it.”
I tuck a section of her hair behind her ear. “You have more rights with me than you know, but once you’re gone, will I ever hear from you again?”
“Can we not talk about the world outside this hotel room?”
Her head hits the pillow, and she turns on her side to face me, the palm of her hand covering my heart. Just as she’s about to answer, I press two fingers to her lips. I don’t know why I even asked when I know the answer already. “Don’t answer that. Surprise me.”
I don’t get the smile I wanted, which says more than her lips ever could. When I pull my hand back, she closes her eyes and moves closer. “Hold me, Hutton.”
This woman is fascinating. We’ve always had the best conversations, and boredom has never entered our time together. That’s why the mere idea of letting her go is unfathomable.
I do. I hold her cheeks in my palms and do my best to kiss the sadness away, hoping to keep the world at bay for the night. Moving to her neck, I kiss over her pulse and then move to claim her mouth again. I trace her body with my tongue and then enter her on a moan. I move inside her while all is quiet except for our panting breaths. And then I hold her . . . until we fall asleep again.
* * *
The bright light of the day rouses me awake. Again. I don’t want to open my eyes this time because I know she’s gone. While I slept, the air has become stale—her scent fading too fast—the warmth she brought gone, leaving the room cold.
I pull the covers down and finally face reality.
Ally Edwards is gone, and I stupidly never even knew what Ally was short for. Staring at the ceiling, I rattle off a few potential names—Alison, Alexandra, Alyssa, but maybe it’s just Ally.
Thinking back on the many good times we’ve had, I wish last night could have changed our fate.
I want a redo so I can ask her the questions we avoided the first time around. I want a redo to prove I can be something good in her life, something that helps her untangle the mess we made.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach over and grab it. Maybe she’s coming back . . .
Ethan: Get your ass out of bed and down to La Casa del Fuego.
I shouldn’t feel disappointed to see my brother’s text, but Ally’s absence is beginning to sink in. I’m not ready to accept her leaving, so I text her. Unfortunately, I get no reply. I text my brother: Be there in thirty.
My brother might be short on time, but I need a shower, so I cram in a quick one before hurrying to meet him at the food stand. This place is a tradition. He’s already ordered my food when I arrive, knowing I order the same thing every time. We lean on a railing and eat our tacos. I’m in no mood to talk, but in pure Ethan style, he won’t let me be. “What happened?”
Tossing the remains of my taco into the basket, I watch a car drive by, squinting from the bright sun. “She left.”
“For good?”
I drag a chip through the salsa, my appetite waning. “Seems that way.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I knew it was coming.” I did too. I just didn’t want to deal with the facts. Two months ago, she made it clear where we no longer stood. Last night, she wanted one last go of things, but she didn’t lie.
Ethan nods. “We talk about girls, but we’ve never really talked about the women in our lives, the ones we spend more time with. I like Ally. She was more your match than your past girlfriends.”
“True.”
“So there’s no changing the outcome?”
I chuckle. “She’s a woman, not a business deal.”
“Bennett might argue otherwise.”
“And you?” I ask.
“I’m still trying to get used to you being grown-up enough to talk about love. That’s what we’re talking about, right?”
I answer a little quieter, the topic feeling as foreign as the emotions defining it. “I think so.”
“If you love her, Hut, you should tell her. If you told her and she still left, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”
Sirens wail, making it impossible to hear the rest of what he’s saying. I look back over my shoulder as a cavalcade of black SUVs with a police escort stops at the corner. “What the hell?”
Ethan stands, alarmed.
One of the Suburbans brakes so fast it rocks on its tires. Both doors open and a man in a suit with one hand on his earpiece is stating calmly. “On the move. She’s on the move.”
But my attention quickly goes to Ally when she hops out from the back seat. “Hutton?”
My mind is still trying to connect the dots that Ally just ran from a parade of vehicles that looks like the president is in town. But the flags flying on the front aren’t American. I don’t recognize the flag or what country it represents. I only know the woman running toward me with secret service-looking dudes on her tail looks very different from the one I’ve spent many nights with.
Her hair is straight except for a wave in the front and around the bottom edges. It’s pulled back on one side by something sparkly, and even though she’s moving quickly, not a hair is out of place.
I can’t stop myself from staring at her. She’s a woman I know on the most intimate of levels, yet I hardly recognize who’s in front of me.
Ally’s lips are a softer shade in the morning light, the palest of pinks, and those incredible blue eyes are made up subtler than I’m used to seeing. I’ve never seen her look so prim or proper. My mind goes wild with thoughts of the dirty role play we can reenact . . . until I remember last night was our end.
When she reaches me, sh
e grabs my arms in a panic. “Hutton, I’m so sorry. Just please remember that I love you.”
“You love me?”
She nods enthusiastically. “I do. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I take her by the face, ready to kiss her, but she stops me, and my mind has time to catch up with her words. “Wait. Why do I have to remember that? We love each other. That means something. That means we should be together.”
Backing away, she slips out of my reach. “I have to go, but I had to tell you. You are the best person I’ve ever known. Thank you for treating me like you did. I’ll always remember you and the times we’ve shared.”
She’s already starting to back away. I reach for her, the railing dividing us. “Stay, Ally.”
“Goodbye, Hutton.”
When she turns to leave, I notice two men in suits standing nearby. They move apart to let her walk between them as they head back to the waiting SUV. “Stop.”
She turns back and looks at me with questioning eyes.
I pause, but my brother shoves me from behind. “Last chance, Hut.”
He’s right. I jump the railing because there’s no way I’m letting her go without a fight. I just didn’t count on these two guys stopping me. Their hands land hard against my chest, each taking one of my arms and tugging it back. “What the fuck?”
Ally gasps, her hands covering her mouth.
The one on my right tells me to stand down as he twists my arm back.
I’m not in pain, but one wrong move and I’m starting to think they wouldn’t mind snapping my arms back until I am. Ethan pushes the guy on the left off me, and says, “Get the fuck off him.”
Under a thick accent, the guy warns, “He needs to stand down, and you need to step back, sir.”
Ally comes back, and demands, “Release him.”
His hands are gone in an instant. My gaze darts to those little flags again, memorizing the lion and hawk on the orange and red diagonal-striped background, before I look at her for answers. I rush forward again, this time grabbing her arms so she can’t run away. “What’s going on, Ally? Why are you leaving? I need to know.”
“I need—”
“It’s time to go.” The asshole leers at us and then has the balls to reach for her. “Princess All—”
Knocking his hand away, I say, “Don’t fucking touch her.” He crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed as he stares at us. Turning back to her, I repeat the one word taking front and center from everything else. “Princess?”
“Look at me. Please.” She holds my face in her hands. “Only me, Hutton.”
Though I’m bothered by the asshole, she doesn’t seem to feel threatened, so I look at her.
Blue skies.
Long walks.
Soft kisses.
I see all those things when I see her, and the tension in my shoulders dissipates. She lifts up and kisses me. “I don’t have the right words to say goodbye to you, Hut. I’m struggling with the reality that I have to, but know I love you.”
When I start to speak, she places her fingers over my lips. “I want you to be happy. Please, Hutton. Please be happy.” She doesn’t wait for a response or even allow me another kiss to remember her by. This time, she turns and dashes into the SUV. The door shuts behind her, and the assholes get in the other SUV before it pulls away, the procession of vehicles continuing on their way.
What the fuck just happened? My brother comes up behind me, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Did they call her princess?”
* * *
Princess Arabelle Allyson Edwards Sutcliffe, also known as Ally Edwards. It didn’t take long to discover Ally wasn’t hiding her real identity from just me but from everybody. She managed to get her master’s degree right under the noses of everyone in the world.
She was right about leaving. The last time I saw her was the last time she stood on American soil. The next time was some wedding in France she was attending.
I only knew because of the media frenzy that surrounded it and because my sister-in-law was watching it the following Saturday before college football came on. “Her mother, Queen Aemilia, has to abdicate,” Singer says. “Then Arabelle will wear the crown.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you how it works.”
“What about her father?”
“The crowned prince, Werner, is technically beneath the Queen.”
Suddenly a lot more interested in this nutty monarch stuff, I ask, “The crowned prince versus what? The uncrowned prince?”
She nods. “I looked it up because they have a different tradition than other European countries. The crowned prince is the one who sits on the throne.”
“Interesting.”
“Royals are fascinating. I can’t believe you dated her.”
What happened between us? I can’t seem to wrap my head around the beautiful but down-to-earth woman who could wear cutoffs or tight jeans, a T-shirt, or something sexy for me to rip off is the same woman I was seeing on TV—hair too stiff, pleasant smile but not genuinely happy. Conservative clothes.
“Me either.”
Ally now resembles every other woman in the lineup of royals standing atop that red carpet leading to the palace doors.
Singer says, “She’s beautiful.”
Okay, maybe not every other woman. “She is.”
Palace.
Red carpet.
Crown.
Pomp and circumstance.
None of it makes sense. I can’t riddle my way into figuring out how Ally Edwards is Princess Arabelle Allyson Edwards Sutcliffe. To me, they are two different people.
* * *
Shutting my laptop, I sit back and stare out the window of my downtown office. A fog hangs low at this floor of the high-rise, keeping me in the clouds while my thoughts focus on the developing situation.
I’ve never stalked a woman before—online or in person. But Ally’s different. We shared those three words that I’ve never told any another woman. Has she said them before?
How can she tell me she loves me and then leave so easily? Do her words matter at all? Did she say it to placate me? “I love you, but stay.” Is that what she meant?
No. I know her. We may not have spent every day together, but the time we did spend together mattered. It was real and not just an act.
I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t say them if she didn’t mean them. She didn’t have to stop at all, much less say those three words. She meant them, just as I did.
None of it matters now, though.
She’s gone.
For good.
I push off my desk and grab my jacket. I want to loosen my tie, but that can’t happen until I do what needs to be done. Packing my heart and these messy feelings away, I try to forget the time I spent with a woman named Ally. I need to embrace the future I’ve been given instead of thinking about the one I’ll never have.
The day she kissed me goodbye, my brother told me to look at my relationship with Ally for what it was—just a moment in time, a blip on my dating radar.
He’s right. I miss her. I miss what we had, but I’m also glad she came and said goodbye. I can’t be angry with her for that.
I also can’t waste my life pining over a woman I can never have. There are plenty of pretties looking to hook up with me, so if that is all I’m capable of for now, it’s time to . . . well, move on. It might take me a while. Pesky fucking emotions. But there’s no doubt that I’m a red-blooded man who loves sex too much to give it up, so there is that . . . Picking up the phone, I call Ethan. When he answers, I ask, “You still have that job for me?”
“When can you be in New York?”
Nothing’s keeping me in Texas. No one’s holding me here anymore. “Next week. I’m heading into a meeting with Dad now.”
“This is good, Hut. He may hate it, but it’s better for you to get out of there. Come to New York for a fresh start.”
“I think
a fresh start is just what I need.”
6
Hutton
Four Weeks Later . . .
The view has changed, but I’m still kicking it high in the sky among the clouds. Manhattan seems a world away from Houston. Although I’ve been here many times before I moved, I don’t think it will ever feel like home.
I’m more anxious here, the pace faster. My patience thin.
Unsettled.
Although I’ve settled in the same building as my brother, my office is down the hall from Ethan. My paycheck went from a healthy to wealthy, from working for my dad to working alongside my brothers. Considering the crazy real estate market should eat so much of it up, it doesn’t because Ethan kept his promise. I became an owner of Everest Enterprises.
My two brothers have always been my best friends. We’re friends. Allies. So seeing them most days is not such a bad thing.
Since I’ve started my newly created position as chief contracts and negotiations officer over the media division, my hours are better than I expected. But with nothing at home but a fifty-five-inch TV and slim pickings in the fridge, I don’t rush home at five o’clock.
The money is good—nothing like what Ethan earns—but enough to keep me happy. My share may only be a quarter of the pie, but it’s enough to retire on too young . . . if I want to.
I’ve been focused on my career and aspirations since I graduated. I’m doing more than I dreamed, but now it seems my dreams have changed. My routine has become mundane: wake up, workout, work, workout, watch TV, sleep. I never needed fame or pats on the back. I know I’m good at what I do. I’ve always done well when I put my mind, or heart, into something.
I should feel like a king, but things have shifted. One part of my life is fulfilling and the other is empty. Has that been affected by Ethan’s relationship with Singer? Possibly. But I’m ready to strive for more of what money can’t buy.