The Beginning of Always (41 page)

I paused, a tad stunned. “Damn, I should take whatever you’re on.”

“One perk of being horridly ill is that you achieve a glorious sense of nirvana in the exact moment you’re able to breathe through your nose again.”

“What if he’s playing me? What if this is all some weird game to him?”

“Did the Alistair you knew play games? Is that the kind of person he was?”

I paused, rolling my cheek against the down pillow fortress I was buried in. “No, he wasn’t. But he’s changed.”

“People don’t change that much. People adapt, but if he was a good guy back then at the core, there’s no reason for you to tell yourself that he suddenly turned into a terrible dude just because he has some money and power now. Is it really that hard to believe that he just wants to be with you?”

I mumbled my answer. “No, I guess not.”

Tracy’s voice went up a pitch. “Of course not. You’re hot, you’re smart, you’re successful. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you? Just think of this as a reunion of sorts. You guys had a bad falling out, but that happens. It’s a lot more plausible that he was too immature back then to deal with what you guys had, but that he’s grown up and he sees what he’s missed.”

A loud thud interrupted my answer, scaring me half to death in the process.

“Shit!” I yelped, my body reflexively twitching in shock and fear, my phone flying out of my grasp.

Gertrude’s arched blond eyebrows greeted me, right above her barely concealed rage-filled glare. “There you are.”

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Tracy’s voice was teeny and shrill, my phone half-buried under blankets on the other side of the bed.

I pawed through the sheets and grabbed the phone. “It’s fine, hold on.” I covered the phone with my free hand. “Yeah?”

“Ms. Reynolds, you’re supposed to be out in the party, taking notes, working on your article.” Wow, Gertrude was pissed.

And I was in no mood for it. My catty, immature side took over. “Why do you care? You can’t wait to get rid of me,” I answered.

“If you’re here, you might as well do your job,” Gertrude snapped. She was really getting into a frenzy over this, my disappearance. She jabbed her finger towards the space behind her. “Mr. Blair wants you out there, so get out there!”

Ah, so this was what caused the sudden appearance. The sound of his name grated my nerves even more. “Well, Mr. Blair isn’t going to get what he wants all the time, now, is he? I’ll come out when I’m ready.” I sounded bratty, but I felt pretty bratty at the moment, so whatever.

“Unprofessional,” she muttered to herself right before she slammed the door.

“Hey, I’m back. Sorry,” I said back into the phone.

“Damn, what was that?”

“German engineering at its finest. I should go.” I gave a sigh and slid off the bed onto my feet.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m not sure, but I feel better. Thanks, love.” I checked my reflection in the mirror, smoothing the flyaways along my hairline and shaking out the tulle in the gown.

“Love you, take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine, just boy-stupid. Are you okay? Do you want Nicolas to come bring you something?”

Tracy’s voice took on a dramatic flair. “Ooohh, I wouldn’t want my Nicki to see me like this. I should only be a picture of beauty and perfection in his mind’s eye.”

I groaned in mock disgust. “I’ll have him drop off some soup and company.”

Tracy gave a loud snort. “Much appreciated. Bye.”

“Good night,” I said. I turned off my phone, sucked in a deep breath, and opened the door back to battle.

Thankfully, the rest of the party went off without much drama. I decided to shadow Train, mostly for safety but also because I realized he found all the halfway interesting people in the joint, and the night ended with some funny conversations and wise insights into the business process.

Once guests started leaving and the servers began cleaning up, I retreated to my bedroom to strip off the gown and heels, changing into my day dress before coming back out once the noise died down.

The place was deserted, pretty shocking how quickly it emptied out. Thomas and Gertrude were in the foyer, right by the arched and heavy front door.

“Where are you guys going?” I asked as Thomas grabbed his coat. I padded over softly on my bare feet, crossing the room of a now-sparkling-clean home. Amazing the speed and efficiency money could buy.

“We’re going to the hotel,” said Thomas matter-of-factly as he helped Gertrude into her coat. She fluffed her blond tresses over the upturned collar with her nose in the air.

“Wait.” I wasn’t not sure why I cared about these two and their sleeping arrangements, but something didn’t sit right. “I thought this home was part of the Malibu branch, and employees used it.”

Gertrude snatched at the fabric of Thomas’s sleeve and snapped her head impatiently to the direction of the door. She then trotted out like the prize pony she was, not even glancing my way. Thomas was slow to pull on his leather gloves as he answered in a reserved fashion, as if afraid that saying the wrong thing would set me off.

“This is Mr. Blair’s property. Employees don’t stay here when he’s in town.”

“Well, then, why am I here? I should be going with you guys off-site.”

Thomas shook his head slowly at me, in an almost incredulous manner. “No. No, you’re not.” He flexed his fingers with an audible of crunch of his leather gloves as he spoke, clearly uncomfortable.

I didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

Thomas took tentative steps to the door, then stopped. “Good night, Ms. Reynolds. Mr. Blair will inform you of our schedule when he sees you next.” He opened his mouth as if he wanted to continue his thought, then decided against it, shuttered his lips, nodded smartly, and exited.

The door shut silently in his wake, and within seconds, their car rumbled down the pebbled drive.

I stood there, barefooted and dumbfounded. Only Alistair and me in the house? Thoughts and suspicions and worries crashed against the walls of my brain until I was dizzy.

I sighed. Forget it, I was just going to go to sleep.

I was halfway back to my bedroom when I realized I wasn’t alone.

Someone was standing on the far end of the now-deserted great room.

Alistair.

He was still wearing that perfectly formed bespoke suit, but his hair was mussed and the hard edge to his face was no longer there. He was no longer playful, no longer coy. He gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the darkness of the rooms allowing him to watch the ocean, but there was enough light to mirror me as I approached him.

There was just enough light to reflect his eyes following my motions.

I came to a stop at his side. Soft waves petered out as larger ones rolled in, the water crashing against the side of the cliffs with the tide.

A lull. We stood there motionless, me watching the water as Alistair watched me.

“Is it just us?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

I nodded slowly. There was something in the air, something that was in the night. The way Alistair was acting, the way he interacted with me and others … it wasn’t typical.

I was weary with overanalyzing.

I wanted to be taken away, for the waves to roll over me and to pull me towards the inevitable.

I wanted to stop fighting everything.

“I’m going to bed, I’m pretty tired.”

“Good night, Florence.”

“Good night, Alistair.”

His gaze was on me as I walked out the room, but I resisted every temptation to turn around. Every temptation to go back. Instead, I steeled myself and left.

Chapter 21

I
awoke with a gasp, falling into reality with the cool misty air of the ocean upon my face and the darkness of a foreign place crushing my being.

Something woke me. A nightmare? A memory? Strange emotions roiled over my body and I sat up, heaviness strangling my throat.

I rolled out of bed, and after I used the restroom and splashed water onto my face, a sense of grounding settled in, to my relief. I went into the kitchen for a glass of water, the moonlight filtering into the great room which just hours ago had held a group of people whose cumulative net worth I couldn’t even begin to fathom. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the sliding doors that led to the patio were open, the curtains fluttering softly in the ocean wind.

“Hello?” I asked as I peeked around the door frame. A faint clinking sound greeted my question.

Alistair.

I closed the door quietly behind me and padded barefoot to the plush poolside benches facing the water.

“Alistair,” I said.

He came into full view. Alistair was sitting on a massive cushioned outdoor bench. He wore only a pair of dark boxer briefs. His left hand was stretched over the top of the chair, and in it he held a lowball glass, ice knocking against the crystal to produce a clinking sound. The wind combed through his hair slightly and his eyes were trained on the black horizon over the infinity wall.

He didn’t turn around; my soft question had been lost in the sound of the waves. Alistair appeared … tired. Alistair was always, even when he was younger, a chiseled veneer of determination and aloof apathy. And in all the time we’d been spending together, he now seemed completely torn down for the first time. Vulnerable, even.

I cleared my throat gently and Alistair finally glanced over, our gazes meeting.

“Hey,” I said.

My lust gave a sudden jump. This was the first time I’d seen Alistair in anything beyond a full suit, and his wide chest sprawled in front of me. With hard muscle bunched under tight tan skin and a dusting of dark hair spreading over his pectorals, Alistair was gorgeous. I kept my eyes trained on his face and tried not to focus on that southern scattering of hair that trailed from chiseled abs to disappear under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Alistair didn’t answer me, but his eyes flickered over my face and then slid down my body. I suddenly felt incredibly exposed, what with my mussed hair, tight boy shorts, and thin camisole. My body burned at his blatant perusal, but I resisted the urge to cross my arms defensively. I just ran my fingers through my hair and tried not to think about how my nipples were probably showing.

Finally Alistair spoke. “Hello.”

“Aren’t you cold? It’s really windy.” I rubbed my hands over my bare forearms.

“I’m fine.” Alistair swished the drink in his hand.

“Well, I’m freezing,” I said, “What are you doing out here?”

Alistair paused and then brought the alcohol to his lips and shot it down his throat. He set the glass on the floor and then stood up.

I instinctively took a step back.

Alistair paused and lightly raised one eyebrow. I gave him a suspicious look back. We remained there, wary of each other for a couple seconds, and then he moved forward, and something large and blue swirled around me.

I froze in shock and confusion for a moment, but then realized Alistair had dragged a large woolen blanket from the bench and draped it around my shoulders.

He pulled the corners of the blanket tightly around my collar, and we held eye contact for the space of a moment.

“Here,” Alistair finally said. “You’re shivering.”

I nodded and reached up to grip the blanket close to me, our fingers grazing each other as he let go and I grabbed on. Alistair’s jawline tightened and we continued to gaze at each other for a moment. He was the first one to break it and sit back down.

I lowered myself slowly next to him, bundling the blanket around me like armor. I shifted slightly to the side so that there was a respectable amount of space between us. Alistair ignored me, his body loose, arms slack by his side, choosing to watch the blackened horizon.

“You drink a lot,” I observed.

Alistair shrugged. “I suppose. I guess it does make it all easier.”

“Make what easier?”

He didn’t answer.

The night sky spilled before us, white lights blinking faintly above. New York’s light pollution rendered the sky a murky gray in the city, but here we could see the stars ever so faintly. I looked up, fascinated with the lights. They reminded me of the stars back home and the ones I saw abroad. Even though I’d only been back in New York for a short time, I missed the stars.

Suddenly a bright white streak stretched across the darkness and I gave a small cry of surprise.

“A shooting star,” I exclaimed. I turned towards Alistair with a grin. “Make a wish.”

Alistair gave me a blank stare in response and a silence stretched between us. After an uncomfortable minute, my smile faltered and collapsed before I pulled the blanket tighter and slid my eyes away. “Okay. Or not.”

Alistair exhaled a heavy sigh and then bowed forward to retrieve his glass. He leaned with his elbow on his knees and seized a whiskey bottle from the table in front of us. He poured a generous helping, and for a while, the only sound was the rolling of the surf and the splashing of Alistair’s drink. His hands then stilled, the bottle held aloft in the air. He gave a small shake of his head as if dislodging a thought from his mind.

Awkwardness and discomfort crawled across my skin. The ups and downs of our conversations, our meetings, it had been exhausting. Sometimes it was easy and fluid, other times forced and slightly painful. This was one of the latter.