Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight

by Ann Mauren

Chapter 30

 

  I didn’t think the beauty of Lake Louise could be outdone. Yet, once I saw it for myself, I had to admit that Lake O’Hara was something more…or maybe the key was that it was less—less crowded and commercialized, but more private and tranquil. It was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. Because of that, the flow of visitors was tightly controlled to minimize the impact of curious humans and their footprints in this majestic yet delicate place.

  Only a short busload of people drove in each day, by reservation, usually made months in advance. The quiet exclusivity of the place added to the natural beauty and appeal.

  The bus ride meant time standing around together in the parking lot before and after, which meant that Ash would probably not be accompanying us today. I was curious what the security solution would be, but I didn’t have to wait long for my answer, in fact I heard it before I saw it: a familiar Austrian accent, two of them, conversing in low tones from somewhere behind me, during our shuttle ride on a private road through the woods and over to the lake.

  Our group was made up of about two dozen visitors, here to enjoy a day of hiking and views singular in all of nature. Petra and Max maneuvered themselves to be as far away from me as possible, a reminder that only Ash knew I was aware of my security team. So I behaved obliviously and tried to make it easy for them. Gray was not making it easy for me, though.

  It was misty and kind of cold for June and I must have been too open with my temperature issues because without a word he came from behind and wrapped his arms around me, cocooning me inside his jacket. At the same moment, from my peripheral vision I could have sworn that Max took a picture of us.

  Great.

  But I had to concede that the increasingly physical relationship I seemed to have with my host would be an important development, from their perspective.

  I reached into my day pack and pulled out one of Hoyt’s most treasured possessions, second only to my mother herself: a Nikon D700 Digital SLR (Single Lens Reflex) camera. I hadn’t even considered asking him for it, since I knew for a fact that it actually cost more than the huge fifty-two inch flat screen TV he’d bought when they finished the basement, a four digit figure that appalled and upset my mother much more than her gadget loving husband would ever know. But just before I had walked out the door with Gray, he handed it to me, with meaningful purpose, as though it was the reason for my trip in the first place.

  Mentally, I was hesitant to accept it, but it was obviously a very significant gesture on his part and I didn’t dare step on his feelings by refusing it. It would definitely make documenting the journey more enjoyable, and the memories, aided through visual reference, could have no better source. I accepted Hoyt’s temporary bequest gladly, with enthusiasm and profuse offerings of thanks, which apparently made an impression upon Gray.

  The next morning at breakfast, in another turn of overwhelming indulgence, but unassailable logic, Gray presented me with a newer version of the same camera, but with even more memory and upgraded features. I tried to dismiss the gift in embarrassed irritation, but he assured me that I’d thank him later if I dropped, or splashed water on, or heaven forbid I lost, what was, in effect, my baby stepsister. Thinking through the ramifications of such plausible scenarios changed my mind, and Gray’s suggestion that I simply place the memory card full of pictures back inside Hoyt’s camera before returning the camera to him appealed to my fondness for sly ruses, perpetrated on parental authorities, sealing the deal.

  I was secretly, however begrudgingly, delighted with my awesome new toy, which Gray also referred to as my graduation present, and I used it to gather images of our hotel and the incredible surroundings. I collected shots of scenes around Upper Waterfowl Lake, Kicking Horse River and the Canadian Pacific Railway, as it cut a path through the wilderness. And then there were the views at Lake Louise where the camera’s password protection feature that could be used on individual images proved invaluable—just like the digital memories it guarded.

  This place I was standing in today was so panoramically diverse in majesty, grandeur and picturesque perfection that I could have been legally blind and still shot cover photos for National Geographic. It sounds like an exaggeration, but the description couldn’t do justice to the beauty. Words simply weren’t up to the task.

  Gray was highly perceptive and I knew he had sensed the change in me after my life-altering encounter at the head of Lake Louise. Even an unperceptive person would have picked up on it, but to his credit, he did not ask me to explain myself. Yet just as I had feared, there was no way to contain the aura of joy radiating out of me, and broadcasting with particular and intractable intensity from the vicinity of my chest.

  After a stern lecture from the park representative about staying on the trails, and not picking flowers and avoiding the bears, we set off from the parking lot to explore the paradise beyond. The trail took us along the edge of a lake which color was the very same shade as my engagement ring. Perhaps my ring wasn’t made from a frozen drop of water from a tropical sea after all. Maybe it was truly a drop of Lake O’Hara, turned to stone. That possibility made me smile as I unconsciously patted my chest and the forms of my locket and my ring securely stowed there under my shirt, reassuring myself of their presence. It would be so wonderful when I could wear them openly without any fears.

  We left the view of the most dazzlingly beautiful lake imaginable behind us as the trail opened to an Alpine meadow, bearing a profusion of wildflowers. I had to stop every several yards to take pictures, as one vista was topped by the next in this place.

  After crossing over stepping stones at the edge of lazy tarn and a footbridge spanning an icy stream, the trail led us into a climb up the side of a glacier-clad peak. Gray was quiet while we walked, taking my hand as we crossed over wet spots, but then releasing me when the trail was more suited for single file progression.

  We reached a ridge and made a sharp turn into a completely different environment, leaving green behind for a strange, rocky landscape that was somehow just as beautiful, in a bleak and barren way. Gray explained that we were walking over a massive rockslide. Passage here became more difficult and I had to really concentrate on my footing. There simply could be no walking and looking at the scenery on this portion of the trail, unless I was interested in viewing things from the perspective of belly or my butt. My close attention to the two feet of ground ahead of me helped to preserve the shock and surprise of the vista that awaited me as we finally crested to a more level place, with large flat rocks on which to sit and observe the part of the trail that I had missed while concentrating on moving but not falling.

  Here high in this moonscape indentation in the mountain was an opalescent lake, rich with minerals leached from the glacier high above, sitting like a sunken iridescent jewel in the side of the mountain. It was completely hidden from lower elevations, but the view was a huge reward for the energy expended to reach the spot.

  We settled on one of the large flattened boulders perched above Lake Oesa and stared quietly at the scene. I lost myself and all track of time peering at the strange but lovely colors of the unusual body of water below. Eventually, I became aware that Gray was not looking at the lake—he was turned slightly and staring at me. I tried to ignore this for as long as I could, but I started to feel rude and I was tired of pretending not to notice any way, so I turned to meet his gaze. The look in his eyes was intense and brooding, and kind of scary, actually. My reaction quickly registered with him and his eyes seemed to soften a degree as they bored into my own, mining for secrets, it felt like.

  “Did you know that you were with me the last time I sat here? But I prefer this version of you infinitely more.”

  He smiled, breaking free of his dark abstraction and taking my hand, rubbing it between both of his own to warm up my icy skin.

  “That was about this time last year. What were you doing last June?”

  “Sleeping.”
/>   And thinking about you, and being miserable when I wasn’t sleeping. How ironic.

  He chuckled at my non-committal answer.

  “I wondered what it would be like to bring the most beautiful girl on earth to the most beautiful place on earth. Now I know. It’s nice.”

  He brought my now warmer hand up to his lips to kiss it. I started to pull back before I could catch myself, knowing I’d have to answer for my behavior—for that action and all of them that had led me to this moment here with him today.

  “Something’s changed in you, and I’m trying to understand it. I thought you felt the same for me as I do for you…but now…it doesn’t seem like it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  It was coercion. He had not let go of my hand, and I knew he had no intention of doing so until he got his answer from me—the answer he wanted. I breathed deep and sighed longingly.

  How could I frame the truth in a way he could understand, and accept? I knew it was impossible. He wasn’t going to take any variation of ‘no’ for an answer from me. I still had to be truthful with him, though. He deserved that much from me.

  “You’re right. About everything. I used to have a huge crush on you. At Grandpa’s funeral, seeing you again, holding me the way you did, made me lovesick for you, all over again. But you never called. I was depressed and heartbroken and miserable. I knew I was too young, and that you had better things to do. It took a while, but I finally got over it. I met someone else, who does call me. I’m better now.”

  His calm façade would have been convincing, if I hadn’t seen his eyes. There was a violent storm brewing there, ready to break out over me.

  “Why are you here then, if you love someone else?”

  He had moved in closer. His tone was even, but there was an edge of desperation.

  “Because I was invited to be an intern on a geological survey.”

  I was starting to feel and sound very defensive.

  “And you didn’t think there was any more to it than that?” There was derisiveness in his tone now. My hackles were all the way up.

  “I think my suspicions were correct, that my ‘intern’ job was just a joke, a ploy, so that you could have another one of your pets with you on your trip…like Dana.”

  Dana was his girlfriend who had accompanied him to Reykjavik. She wasn’t really an intern either.

  His face looked like I’d slapped him.

  Good.

  There was a very long and uncomfortable pause, but I had nothing else to say. I returned to gazing at the lake.

  “Ellie, honey, the only person here with a master…is me.”

  His demeanor transformed. He looked defeated. I frowned, but the uncertainty I felt must have played clearly in my eyes. He explained.

  “You’ve owned me since the night I met you. You don’t understand that do you?”

  He looked away, seeing something far away. He was still looking away when he began speaking again.

  “When you came to Reykjavik, and my dad asked me to take you with me on that snowmobile trip the first week, I was pissed. I’m the future president of the company, right? Not a baby-sitter. But part of running a company is handling the details and accepting challenges. So I sucked it up and played Grayson Poppins. But then you turned out to be so smart, and cute, and … funny.”

  He looked over at me, checking my reaction to see if he was giving offense.

  “I couldn’t read you at all, obviously, but it seemed pretty clear that you weren’t impressed with me. I’d never encountered that before … in girls, at least.”

  He smirked and raised an eyebrow, wordlessly acknowledging his own arrogance.

  “When it dawned on me how I was feeling about you, I was disgusted with myself. You were just a little girl, for crying out loud. I didn’t want to believe I was in love with you. I was angry and way into denial. I went back to school and things got better after a while, but then I saw you again at the funeral.”

  He paused, thinking deeply for a moment. Then he rubbed his forehead, as though it hurt.

  “That pushed me over the edge. Once I got back to Cambridge, I was miserable. I couldn’t stop seeing your face and hearing your voice in my mind. I couldn’t function. It was so bad I was ready to pack up and move to Louisville.”

  He looked away again, shaking his head as if to banish an unpleasant thought. After a pause he began again.

  “Dad showed up unannounced in England; he was that worried about me.”

  He sighed and his expression looked like he was admitting a fault.

  “I told him everything. I had to confess because he wouldn’t leave until I explained why I was so messed up … and depressed.”

  He looked deep into my eyes now, searching for something. I could tell he was deciding about what to say next.

  “Then he made me a deal. He promised to keep an eye on you for me if I’d just get my head on straight and finish my obligations at Cambridge and let you finish yours in high school. It was only for a year or so.”

  There it was: that final piece in the puzzle, making the picture perfectly clear. If only I had known. Why did everything have to be a secret?

  He laughed, nervously, but there was only discomfort in the sound of it—no mirth.

  “Ellie, I’ve been in love before. But not like this. Never like this, but in a way. I know what it’s like and I just couldn’t do that to you, not until you were old enough to handle it, to do something about it. I had to sit back and bide my time, waiting until I thought you were ready, hoping no one would steal you before I came back…but keeping an eye on things to make sure. If anybody made a move on you, I was going to be right there, blocking.”

  He laughed, but again, there wasn’t any humor.

  “Guess I couldn’t block what I didn’t see.”

  What I didn’t see ruined my life for a while. What he didn’t see brought me back from the dead. And now I had one foot in both worlds.

  I was starting to understand him but I was still on the defensive.

  “Why didn’t you call me or send me a postcard or an e-mail? I figured you didn’t care. What was I supposed to think?”

  He nodded, acknowledging my logic.

  “I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t feel like I could engage you directly and not take it too far. So instead, I settled for sending you care packages every month, always on the seventeenth, until you turned eighteen, then always on the eighteenth. Did you not receive them?”

  Care packages?

  “What are you talking about? What care packages?”

  I asked the question, but a sickening awareness was settling in, and I knew that hearing the answer would be like opening the door on a monster in the closet.

  “Well, the first month I sent you seventeen yellow roses.”

  I remembered that. I thought they were a belated gesture for the funeral from a tardy sympathizer, wishing to remain anonymous. I nodded, confirming their receipt.

  “The next month I sent you the big box full of every size Hershey Bar they make.”

  I remembered that too. It was sort of like the game show ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’ but with the theme ‘Who Wants to Eat Chocolate?’ instead. I chuckled at the memory. I was delighted, initially, at the jackpot of chocolate I’d received, and the funny, homemade trivia game that accompanied it, but ever since then I hadn’t been able to eat another Hershey Bar. I probably never would again.

  “When you got your license I sent you the little pink Corvette.”

  He smiled big at his memory of that. I did too.

  “That was you? I loved that! But how did you know to include a Skipper, instead of a Barbie?”

  He seemed pleased to explain.

  “Well, I heard your grandpa call you ‘Skipper’ and I took a chance. It seemed pretty likely, though. You do look very much like a Skipper doll, you know,” he teased me.

  “Yeah, I know. Short, skinny and no chest. A perfect likeness. Wonderfu
l isn’t it?” I retorted in a self-deprecating huff.

  His eyes melted and I could feel the answering warmth in my chest.

  “Yes. You’re wonderful, Ellie. I think you…and your chest…are absolutely perfect.”

  He smiled that rakish grin I loved and I tried to focus on that instead of being embarrassed about my Skipper figure, which he’d just commented on.

  So the truth about the packages wasn’t like a monster after all. Instead it was a happiness to learn the real identity of my generous and humorous secret admirer. But it also meant I’d been wrong about whom to be grateful to.

  “Those were from you?” My words were still catching up with my thoughts.

  “Who did you think they were from?”

  He laughed like I’d said something funny.

  “Well, it was hard to tell. There was never a return address or card inside, Gray. Did you forget you were dealing with me, and that I’m not the brightest bulb in the fixture?”

  He shook his head in disagreement.

  “You’re as brilliant as the sun…and just as warm.”

  The smolder in his eyes was back in full strength.

  “I have something else for you, another care package, sort of,” he said as he pulled something small out of his pocket.

  “This is something I had specially made, just for you. I designed it myself. I’ve always imagined giving it to you here, in this place.”

  His eyes were bright with enthusiasm.

  Then he took my left hand and slipped a ring on the third finger.

  How unbelievably surreal was that?

  When I examined my hand, my heart skipped a beat and then screeched to a halt. It was exactly the same ring as the one I already owned, with one notable exception. The gemstone was not aquamarine. It was deep pink, nearly magenta in tone, perfectly flawless and without equal. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, trapped in stunned amazement.

  Gray was extremely pleased at this reaction and he reached over to pull me in and kiss the top of my head.

  I knew what it was, but I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Bixbite. He’d actually had a bixbite ring made—for me!

  Grandpa found a piece of bixbite on a mineral-collecting trip he’d taken years ago. I’d heard the story a hundred times; it was my very favorite. That rock was his most prized possession, and he had some sweetheart possessions when it came to his rock collection. He’d found his one and only bixbite specimen in the Thomas Range, a mountainous area in the western desert of Utah, one of only two places it has ever been found.

  Bixbite is so rare, so scarce, that it holds the distinction as the rarest gem on earth. In fact, it’s so rare that most people have never heard of it. Despite that it’s highly valuable due to its unique beauty and extreme scarcity. And this specimen, resting on my finger (very heavily all of the sudden) was almost three carats in size, and possibly the largest cut piece of bixbite on earth. And it was on my hand! I’d felt ill when I realized how much Ash had paid for my aquamarine…now I felt terminal.

  “Do you know what that is?” Gray asked, smiling, and looking just slightly smug.

  “Bixbite,” I whispered, as if in the presence of great majesty.

  “That’s right.”

  He seemed slightly surprised, but he gave a short laugh of pleasure and said, “I’m glad you know your gems. It saves me the trouble of explaining the similarities between you and this little treasure. Though, all the descriptions would be interchangeable: perfect, pure, and priceless. I could be talking about you or the stone.”

  His eyes burned with sincerity as he spoke.

  I gasped for breath like I was being held under water. Then I started to take the ring off, but he stopped me with gentle yet irresistible finality, holding my right hand by the wrist.

  “Gray, I can’t wear this. I don’t want to be responsible for this. It should be in a museum. There are people who would bite my finger off for this!”

  He laughed with pleasure, totally blowing off my fears and insecurities.

  “Ellie, this isn’t ‘The One Ring.’ It was made in North Carolina, not Mordor. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll keep an eye out for Gollum,” he said as he made a show of looking over his shoulder.

  It was funny, but I couldn’t laugh. I still couldn’t breathe.

  “Besides, you can’t give back what’s already yours—it’s your inheritance.”

  He smiled like it was an inside joke.

  “Now what are you talking about?”

  He was speaking in riddles, it seemed.

  “Did you know that your Grandpa found a piece of bixbite?”

  “Yes?”

  “My dad told him about my hobby—ring design—and he sent the raw piece of bixbite to me, to have it cut and set, for you. In fact, I received the uncut stone the month before he died. It was ironic because I had already made a ring for you: a very rare aquamarine. But when this came along…well, I had to start over, but I’m glad I did. I knew this would mean more to you. It would represent the people who love you, who know that the real treasure…is you.”

  My mind had been racing hard to keep up with all the new information. Finally, it spun out. Everything I believed ten minutes ago had been knocked askew, like a curling stone pushed out of the bull’s-eye and off the course.

  Every single real thing I’d attributed to Ash had actually come from Gray. Who really knew me so well, and who was I truly in love with after all? This was a far bigger question than my rapidly collapsing mind would be able to contain or contend with. I was scrambling to get a handle on the moment, and on my feelings about my recently revised frame of reference.

  “So tell me about this other boy. Did you go to school with him?”

  I guess I should have seen that line of questioning coming.

  “No, he didn’t go to Eastern. He lives in my neighborhood, though.”

  Truth.

  I knew I had to tell the truth. It was already bad enough without lies to make it worse.

  “What’s his name?”

  Gray was all interested politeness.

  “Ash.”

  It felt strange to speak of him, especially to Gray.

  “No last name?” he asked, nudging me.

  “Why? Are you going to Google him?”

  The hackles were making another stand.

  “Just curious.”

  Gray was still emitting friendliness. When I didn’t answer he asked, “So, how old is he?”

  I shrugged.

  “You don’t know how old he is?”

  There was a strange undercurrent in his tone, something more than disbelief.

  “I didn’t card him when I met him, Gray. He’s older than me. So is everybody else. So what?”

  He seemed to consider my answer, though I couldn’t translate his expression. He dropped it and moved on.

  “What do you like about him?”

  I thought about how I would be enjoying this conversation if I were having it with Sam. Now it felt like I was walking on eggshells, or landmines. But I pushed ahead with the honesty, trying to be tactful.

  “Ash makes me feel very…happy and safe. He’s kind of serious. In fact he’s the only person I’ve ever met who’s easier to tease than me. It took a while, but he’s finally starting to understand my sense of humor now.”

  Gray raised an eyebrow and grinned, definitely in on the joke.

  I continued, “He’s a big reader, always suggesting books that I end up loving. He speaks several languages, so he can recite love poems to me in French and Italian, or just make some up, and I like that. He grew up in Australia, so he loves all the same Aussie bands and actors that I do.”

  I’d been watching Gray’s reactions to the things I’d said, but now I had to look away, back down to the lake.

  “He’d never dated anyone before me. He’s a virgin, like me, and very strict about keeping it that way until we’re married. I really like that.”


  “Wait a minute. You’ve already had a conversation about getting married?”

  The friendliness was completely gone.

  “Sure. It was one of the first things we talked about, in our first conversation, in fact. He was trying to explain his interest in me, and his intentions. It was nice to know going in that he had long-term commitment in mind.”

  Gray was lost in his thoughts for a very long time. I thought maybe he was done asking about it, and I was starting to feel relieved.

  “So, do you have plans to marry him?”

  The ‘All Clear’ was revoked. The sound of his question didn’t have that false sense of friendliness anymore, but Gray’s tone was still even, and in control. In fact, he was unnaturally calm and easy given the situation. I was afraid to answer his question, but my hesitation indicated the reply as clearly as if I’d actually spoken the words.

  He abruptly pulled me inside his arms and hugged me tight, kissing the top of my head, as though he were comforting me after I’d received tragic news, as opposed to being the recipient of such a declaration himself.

  “No!” he pleaded.

  It was heartbreaking. I thought about the wire crossing, about the patience and restraint he had shown on my behalf; about the perfect little ‘I Love You’ care packages he’d faithfully sent me, month after month, but received no credit for; about the time and effort he’d gone through to bring me here today; about the fabulous, priceless heirloom on my finger that confirmed my feelings for him and my feelings for my grandpa would somehow always be connected, brought together in platinum and diamonds and bixbite in a perfect fit.

  And I thought about the pinnacle of injustice: the engagement ring in my pocket; the one he had designed for me, which somehow his rival, employed for the chief purpose of keeping suitors at bay, had obtained and used to secure me!

  I was overwhelmed. The future I used to dream about with Gray at its core, the one I had mistakenly laid to rest in tears and pain, was now looking me in the face, here for an accounting of all my actions. Now it occurred to me that I might have engaged myself to the wrong person.

  How could this have happened? It was so unfair!

  As if he could hear the words as I thought them, he asked, “Is there any way you would be willing to reconsider your options, before you get married?”

  That was a far more generous request than I would have been able to make, if our positions were reversed. He had moved his face so that it was level with mine, just inches away, searching my eyes, desperately seeking the answer to his question.

  Just like always, the hot tears falling on my skin shocked me. Then my instinct, overpowering and undeniable, shocked me again. I grabbed Gray’s face and kissed him as hard as I could. That was silly though, because I didn’t really know what I was doing. Fortunately, Gray knew exactly what he was doing and I let him take over. It was far more intense and intrusive than a kiss from Ash, but then I guess their kissing styles were representative of their personalities.

  It felt horrible and heavenly at the same time. Horrible because I was breaking a promise to someone who loved me dearly, while enjoying every second of it. Heavenly because I was breaking that promise with someone who loved me dearly, who seemed to be enjoying every second of it as much as I was.

  How could this possibly work out? We couldn’t all win. Someone’s loss would be my own and it would be very bad. There was no way for me to have complete happiness now, no matter what happened next. I realized that my behavior didn’t warrant happiness now, and it would quite likely spoil the happiness of whoever walked away with me. Maybe that was how it would be: no one got to be happy.

  After he’d had his way with me, in the way you might expect when out in the open with people coming and going every so often, and two Austrians about a quarter mile away on the other side of the lake facing our direction taking pictures…

  After my introduction to being kissed by Gray, he pulled me onto his lap, and I sat facing the water, recovering for a while. I felt intensely happy but immensely guilty. I was going to have to get myself together, especially my weak knees, if I wanted to maintain my status as a visitor and not a resident of this place.

  Just like at Lake Louise, I was surrounded by incredible beauty and managed to see nothing while I walked on autopilot, mostly hand-in-hand with Gray, up and out of the Lake Oesa basin to the trail that led back down to Lake O’Hara. It was very slow going. Every so often he would stop and kiss me again, holding my waist, or my shoulders or, most often, my face. The intense waves of pleasure followed by the agony of guilt was nearly too much for me. Gray probably thought I was a victim of first love, and in a sense, that was actually true.

  He was generally a good-natured, enthusiastic sort of person, and he was the same now, just turned up a couple of notches so that he was levitating slightly. I would have been like that too if the tremendous guilt I felt hadn’t been weighing me down, like heavy baggage. Or maybe the weight was from my own feet, dragging and stalling, trying to delay what I knew would be an impossible task: returning to the hotel and facing Ash.

  Every so often I would become aware that I was shaking and I would try to will myself to stop. The adrenaline and whatever other self-produced drugs flooding my system made me feel something more than just high. I felt a powerful desire to run away from Gray but also to hold him and kiss him. I wanted to cry and laugh, and then scream and sigh. I was a mess.

  While standing around in the parking lot waiting for the shuttle bus with the other hikers, Gray was very at ease and open with his affection for me, though it was far more toned down than it had been up at Lake Oesa. I squirmed around hoping he would get a clue, and knowing him, he probably did, but it didn’t translate into better behavior on his part. When I was too embarrassed to let him kiss me in front of other people any more, I turned my back on him and tried to step away, but he reeled me back in, holding me from behind in a warm inescapable hug around my arms just below the shoulders, with his chin resting on my head.

  By the time we made it back to the Jeep, I was mentally and physically exhausted, falling asleep before we had made it out of Yoho National Park. He woke me up with a kiss in the hotel parking lot at Banff. I was disoriented, thinking maybe I’d just had a scary dream, but his face on mine was proof otherwise.

  “It’s time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty. You can finish your nap upstairs. Come on.”

  I realized he was talking to me from my open door. He pulled me out of the Jeep, steadying me, and then he held me around the waist with one arm, similar to the other night, while carrying our things with his other hand.

  Just like on the trail, he took advantage of standing still to kiss me, as the elevator doors began to close. I was still so dazed and sleepy that I accepted this gladly, instead of nervously, as I should have, considering who could be watching. My conscience stung me belatedly over this, though it happened so quickly that I probably couldn’t have avoided it in any case.

  When we reached my door he used his copy of my room key card to let us in, and once again he entered his room through the adjoining door, leaving it wide open. I wasn’t about to go near the bed at this point, coward that I was, so I quickly retreated into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water once again.

  This time I chose a bath bomb called ‘Waving Not Drowning,’ though the reverse didn’t sound like a bad option either. The packaging promised to relax and soothe my soul like a field of lavender and suggested that I use it before bed to bring on sweet dreams.

  Speaking of bed, what was I going to do about that? I was absolutely certain that Gray wasn’t going to be following any set of rules in that regard, probably the opposite—unless I was brave enough to lay them down myself. Since I couldn’t remember ever having won an argument with him, and I had absolutely no clue how I would explain what I wanted, I knew I’d have my work cut out for me.

  While I was thinking through that dilemma, a new one presented itself in the fo
rm of a knock on the bathroom door.

  Really?

  “Ellie, can I come in for a minute?”

  But he didn’t wait for my answer as he opened the door and let himself in. I sunk down in the water, until everything below my chin was submerged, thankful for the cover that ‘Waving Not Drowning’ provided by clouding and coloring the water a bluish purple tint.

  He was polite—if that even applied, given the situation—and did not look at me directly. Instead he faced the mirror so I could see him while he talked to me.

  “You were asleep so I didn’t get to ask you what you wanted to do tonight. Do I need to make reservations downstairs, or do you want to go out somewhere in town, or would you rather have room service brought up?”

  I didn’t feel like dressing up or going out, but I was afraid of the third option for some reason. Being out of the bedroom while discussing the ‘rules’ seemed like a better idea to me.

  “Let’s find a pub to eat at tonight,” I suggested.

  “Okay. Did you want to finish your nap after your bath?”

  He sounded far too hopeful.

  “I’m kind of hungry. I’ll just finish up in here and then maybe we can go eat?”

  He seemed a little too disappointed now, though his words tried to make it appear otherwise.

  “That’s fine. Just come over when you’re ready. I’m going to take a quick nap.”

  But he didn’t leave. I noticed he was looking at the basket of bath products. I wanted to dive under the water completely as I realized which one of the bath bombs had caught his eye. It was jasmine scented and mostly pink with a swirl of purple and featured pink rice paper rose petals that would float on the surface of the pink bathwater once the rest of it was dissolved. But it was the name that was embarrassing me so badly.

  “Sex Bomb?”

  He smiled rakishly and turned around to look at me in the tub.

  “Saving this one for later, are we?” he asked as he held it up for me to see. “Which one are you using now?”

  I was trying to pretend he wasn’t there anymore. He bent down to pick up the wrapper on the floor next to the tub. He laughed out loud when he read it.

  “Waving Not Drowning. Well, I certainly hope so.”

  Then he turned to the place on the counter where the cream colored towels were neatly rolled and picked up two of them, spreading out the bath mat floor towel in front of the tub, placing the bath towels on a corner of it, touching the base of the tub, where they would be easy for me to reach once I stepped out.

  “I’m hungry too. Please don’t take too long.”

  And then I was alone again.

  We parked in the center of town and walked a few blocks down the main strip looking for a pub, though I had a feeling Gray knew exactly where we were heading. It was a pleasant evening, still chilly enough at night to wear a jacket, though. I liked that: wearing a jacket in June. Although I liked a warm day at the beach as well as anyone, my preference was for weather in the fifties. Rain or shine. I liked both.

  As we waited for our meals in a cozy high backed booth, which felt very private, I deliberated about which unpleasant topic to address first. I decided that laying down the rules when it came to bedtime was the priority.

  “Gray, I need to…ask you about something.”

  I was already mortified and I had barely begun.

  “I’m new at this relationship thing, but I was just wondering if you could … well, you know … tell me … your intentions … you know … towards … me?”

  There. I actually got it out.

  Of course, my eyes were glued to the table now. I didn’t have the strength to ask a question like that and look him in the eyes while doing it.

  He chuckled softly and reached across the table, lifting my chin with his hand, forcing me to meet his gaze.

  “Let me ask you something. Whose idea was it to stay virgins until you were married?”

  “It was Ash’s idea. I never thought that far ahead. I guess I’m an idiot.”

  I laughed nervously at myself. He shook his head in disagreement.

  “I think the word you mean is innocent. I love that about you. I’m in no hurry to change that, Ellie.”

  He was very sincere, no hint of teasing.

  “So you want to know my intentions? I guess you can’t read my mind can you? That’s probably just as well.”

  He smiled that rakish smile from the bathroom.

  “My intentions? Well, let’s see. I intend to marry you, when you’re ready for that. I intend to have fantastic adventures in far away places with you. I intend to be entertained by your amazing sense of humor. I intend to feel smug about having the most beautiful wife on Earth. I intend to be proud of the incredibly capable and loving mother of my children. And I intend to love you the only way I know how—forever.”

  The big splashes of tears bouncing off the table in front of me were, as always, a surprise. They seemed out of place considering the huge smile on my face. That had to be the most romantic thing I’d ever heard. It sounded like a scene from a movie; a scene that I would replay a thousand times because I loved it and wished someone in real life would say those things to me.

  As I was reflecting on his beautiful words he reached over to take my left hand, turning the ring this way and that. It was slightly loose, but not dangerously so. I was a fool if I thought I’d be size four forever. It was nice to have some room to grow, though I would probably take to wearing the ring on my right hand for a while since it fit more securely on that side.

  “Given that the stone here already belonged to you, I’m not sure if this ring qualifies as a proper engagement ring. I could make you something else…if you’d like.”

  He was looking at the ring while he spoke.

  I sniffed and used the napkin in my free hand to dry my face. “I wouldn’t waste your time on that.”

  Besides, that finger is maxed out on parking space as it is.

  “You know, there’s no reward for good intentions. I need you to agree to marry me before I can make good on any of those.”

  He smiled holding my eyes, searching my expression.

  At that moment the scopophobic sensation, which I had completely lost track of, resurfaced, weighing heavily on my neck. My eyes followed the unseen source to its origin. At a window seat, close to the door, over Gray’s shoulder, sat Ash, facing me, staring at me, a depth of emotion and turmoil in his eyes I had never seen before, even that fateful day at Tinseltown.

  Had he heard our conversation? Or was he reacting to the tears on my face? The tears accompanied by a joyful smile that would be difficult to misinterpret, especially as the man sitting with me played absentmindedly with a new ring on my left hand. I felt ill. I felt horrible and evil and mean. I looked away and back down at our hands. Gray had just asked me to marry him and I had to get my face together before I mortally wounded him, too.

  Stalling for time I said, “Can you ask me this again, when I’m not such a mess? In a more memorable place, instead of over a cheeseburger?”

  I laughed a short laugh, but it sounded off, and I knew it.

  Gray had seen the turn of my countenance as it played out, and then combined with my request, he too must have sensed the watching eyes. He leaned out of the booth to look behind towards the direction of the windows and the door. The table was empty.