Fairytale Come Alive (44 page)

Good.

“What? Why?” she asked, her voice higher pitched.

“Because I want to know.”

“Why would you possibly want to know?”

“Because he was part of your life and I want to know about your life which means I want to know about him.”

“He isn’t that interesting.”

“Likely no’. You’re still going to tell me.”

“Pren –” she started, his arms tightened and she stopped.

His voice dipped lower when he demanded, “Tell me.”

She was silent. This lasted awhile.

Finally, she said softly, “Actually, I think this is good.”

“What?”

“Telling you about Laurent.”

Laurent.

Christ, he even hated the man’s name.

Over the years, he didn’t think much of Laurent Evangelista because he didn’t allow himself to think much of Elle.

When Prentice heard about their public split, he
did
think Laurent Evangelista was all kinds of fool for leaving Elle and going off with a shoddier version.

Now, he hated him.

No, actually, he detested him.

Because someone should have done something about that father of hers, those dreams of hers and how she fisted her hands in that alarming way.

And it was clear Laurent Evangelista did none of those things.

“I didn’t love him,” Elle announced, taking him from his thoughts.

“What?” Prentice asked, surprised.

“I didn’t love him. I never loved him,” she repeated. “Looking back, I’m not certain I ever even
liked
him.”

At that, it was Prentice’s body that grew solid. Feeling it, with a rough jerk, she pulled away. He allowed this because he sensed she needed it.

He’d disallow it the minute she did not.

She walked two steps, put her glass to the railing and then turned to him.

“You won’t be surprised to hear that I married him because my father wanted me to. There wasn’t much I did that my Dad didn’t want me to do.” She waited for that to sink in and, when she received no response, she went on, “Dad liked him. Thought he was a good catch. Said Laurent was
our people
. He’d known Laurent’s parents for years.”

“Elle –” he stopped speaking when she turned to face the sea and kept talking.

“I thought, though, that I’d get something from it. Finally get something
I
wanted,” she told the sea and her voice dropped to a whisper when she continued, “I was wrong.”

She was talking about children. A family.

It was time to disallow the space she no longer needed.

Prentice approached, Elle retreated but he didn’t let her go. He caught her around the waist and pulled her to him, sliding his arms tight around her.

She stood stiff in his embrace.

“Why didn’t you adopt?” he asked quietly.

“Laurent didn’t want to adopt, so, we didn’t adopt.”

The way she spoke made it clear that, in her desire to build a family, she tried that too.

And she, again, failed.

In other words, what Laurent wanted or didn’t want, Laurent got.

No matter what Elle wanted.

Yes, Prentice detested him.

“You know what’s funny?” she asked the sea, her face turned away from him, her gaze thoughtful.

“No, baby. What’s funny?”

“
He
divorced
me.
” She looked at him and continued, “I never wanted him and, in the end,
he
divorced
me
. Isn’t that funny?”

What it was, was ironic.

What it was not, was funny.

He didn’t answer, he simply pulled her closer. Her head tipped back further to keep her eyes on him and her hands came to rest lightly on his waist.

Prentice liked the feel of Elle’s hands on his waist. He’d like it better if it was her
arms
around his waist.

“Why do you think that?” she asked quietly.

He put a hand to her jaw and stroked her cheek with his thumb, asking, “Think what?”

“What you said about me. That I was the best thing to come in your life. With all the gifts you’ve been given, how can you think that?”

His mind flooded with all that was Elle.

Her pancakes. Her cookies. Her smile.

The way she cared for his home.

The way she cared for his family.

The way she handled Sally with infinite patience appearing to enjoy every second.

The way she understood what Jason needed and gave it to him after Prentice spent a year trying to figure it out.

The way she kept his children’s mother’s memory alive instead of trying to bury it deep.

The way she could make him laugh when she forgot to be Isabella and, instead, was Elle.

The way she responded to his hands, his mouth, his cock moving inside her.

The way she consistently gave of herself, second by second, to him, to his children, to her friends the latter to whom she’d been giving for years, without even noticing she was doing it or expecting that first thing in return.

Prentice was in love with her.

And he’d been in love with her for over twenty years.

But now, knowing what he knew about how she’d helped Annie with unfailing determination and seeing what he saw when she dropped everything and raced to his daughter’s bedside at the hospital, he loved her even more.

He’d had a beautiful run with Fiona and he loved his wife deeply.

But he’d never been
in
love
with Fee.

Not the way he’d always been in love with Elle from the first time he saw her with Annie, her beautiful face lit up with laughter, walking into the same pub they went to last night.

He studied that face in the dim light and slid his thumb along her lower lip.

“How can I no’?” he answered her question with a question.

She shook her head and tried to pull away.

His hand left her face so his arm could lock around her back.

She stilled and whispered, “I don’t understand.”

He pulled her even closer. “You don’t have to understand. I do. Isn’t that enough?”

She shook her head again, her body still tight. “I don’t think –”

He cut her off, asking, “Do you like it here?”

He felt her frame jerk and she stammered, “P… pardon?”

“Do you like this house?” he enquired.

She slightly relaxed and her voice was soft when she replied, “It’s a beautiful house, Pren.”

“Do you like being with the children?”

Her voice was suddenly firm (and slightly loud) when she replied, “Of course I do!”

His fingers went to her hair, pulling out the holder so its weight tumbled into his hand.

He fisted it, dipped his face closer and asked, “Do you like being with me?”

“Pren –”

“Answer me, Elle.”

She tried to turn her head away but he held her fast with his hand in her hair.

“Elle –” he prompted.

“What does it matter?” she whispered.

“Because if you like it and you want it, you can have it,” he told her, pulling her head back so he could rest his forehead on hers. “I think it’s about time you get what you want, baby. Don’t you?”

He was getting somewhere. He knew this because her body relaxed into his and her hands at his waist slid around his back.

“I like it,” she said softly and her body pressed closer. “And I want it.”

Yes, thank Christ, he was finally getting somewhere.

He felt like roaring his triumph.

He didn’t because she went on.

“But –” she began.

His hand in her hair tightened, his other arm giving her a squeeze, stopping her next words.

“No,” he stated firmly.

“But, Pren –”

This time, he dropped his head and he kissed her silent.

That worked.

Just like it always did.

Her weight was resting fully against his body when he lifted his head.

“You want it,” he said, touching her lips with his again. “I want it.” He touched her lips again. “And the children want it. We’ve all lost enough. It’s time to move onto something better.”

“Okay,” she whispered, suddenly acquiescent, dropping her head, putting her cheek to his chest and snuggling close.

He held her for a long time.

Then he kept her in his arm as he reached for her glass, handing it to her.

Then he reached for his own.

They drank their wine together and silently watched the sea.

* * * * *

Fiona

You’re getting somewhere,
Fiona told her husband as she floated, arse to the railing, beside Prentice and Bella.

Her husband didn’t answer.

You think you’ve cracked it, though, and you aren’t even close,
Fiona continued.

Prentice showed no signs of hearing her.

Fiona leaned forward and whispered fiercely,
Prentice, read her journals!

Prentice swallowed the last sip of his wine and put his glass on the railing next to Bella’s already empty one.

He turned Bella toward the door.

Brilliant, now
Bella
was leaving glasses outside. Fiona didn’t particularly relish the fact that Prentice took Bella outside in the first place, seeing as he never did that with her. But, she
really
didn’t relish both of them leaving the glassware to fend for their inanimate selves in the wild, Scottish elements.

Fiona put the glasses out of her mind and followed them.

She had bigger fish to fry.

Read her journals, read her journals, READ HER JOURNALS!
Fiona shouted to Prentice.

They stepped over the threshold.

Fiona followed them.

When she did, she hit black.

Not her tent by the apple tree and the stream.

Black.

Pitch.

She floated to a stop, suddenly terrified out of her mind.

Where was she?

She wasn’t real here, she was floating.

She looked down at herself.

See-through.

Oh no.

Was this hell?

Did she do something wrong?

In a panic, she floated forward, banged into an invisible barrier and was thrown back.

No!
she shouted.

She didn’t want to be alone for eternity with a silk tent, a guitar and some books, no matter how pretty the place was.

And she didn’t want to be with her family for eternity, haunting them, watching them live their lives but never being a part of it.

But she really didn’t want to be
here
(wherever
here
was). It was dark. It was frightening. And if she stayed there, she’d never know if Prentice breathed life back into Bella, just like the prince in a fairytale.

She flew forward again, faster, more determined.

She floated into the bedroom.

It was dark, Bella and Prentice in bed.

She looked behind her.

Nothing but windows, balcony and sea.

She was safe.

Fiona let out a ghostly sigh of relief.

She looked to the ceiling and said thanks. Then she asked never to be sent
there
again.

There was no answer.

Fiona shook off the residual fear and cautiously drifted to the bed.

Bella was asleep, dead to the world (as it were).

Prentice was wide awake.

Even though she was frightened that trying to communicate with the living was getting her into trouble (and sent to the pitch black), this was important, she had to risk it so Fiona still reached out and touched her husband’s hair.

Read her journals,
she whispered.

She pulled her hand back instantly when his head turned at her ghostly touch. Then she braced, afraid she’d be sent to the pitch black.

She wasn’t.

She watched as Prentice carefully extricated himself from Bella who, Fiona noticed, was wearing one of Prentice’s t-shirts which was good since Sally would undoubtedly be in in the morning.

Prentice pulled the covers around Bella and she saw he was in sweats.

Then she had to hurry and float after him as he exited the room.

Navigating the house in the dark, he went straight to the guest suite.

He turned on the light beside Bella’s bed, looked over his shoulder and out the two doors he left opened.