26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ali
I said yes.
I’m on my way to London with Harry. Why? I couldn't tell you. I haven't let myself think about the reasons. I tell myself it's because he's great in bed, the sex is unreal and we are having fun, but I know there is a deeper meaning. I had to lie to Gabby about my reasons for leaving, telling her I was going on a work trip. Thankfully, she didn't question it. Work owed me some time off, so I said I needed to head out of town to visit family.
The captain announces it’s safe to take off our seatbelts and use our phones. I pull out my phone to text Gabby and Ria.
Harry appears above me, taking our cases out the overhead lockers. I haven’t seen much of him on the flight as we flew over night in first class. My flight was booked so last minute we couldn’t get cubicles next to one another.
“So, where did you tell the girls you were going?”
“Paris. I told Gabby I was viewing the next season's collection at the designers' warehouses, so I hope you are good with Photoshop because she’s expecting a photo of me and the Eiffel Tower.”
He leans down over my cubicle, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m sure I can figure something out for you.”
Ten days. Ten days I have with him in a city I have dreamed of visiting since I was a little girl. It was my dad’s favorite place in the world and the place he fell in love with writing and the story that holds such a special place in my heart.
“Did you sleep okay?” Harry asks as we disembark the airplane.
“Ugh, yeah, first class. I slept like a baby. I need to find a way to facilitate this kind of lifestyle because now I’ve had a taste of first class, I cannot go back to cattle.”
He chuckles. “Well, stick with me, Ali baby, and it will be first class all the way.”
His words make my stomach do a little somersault and I can't decide if I like it, or it terrifies the living shit out of me.
A driver collects us from the airport, and we head to central London. I practically press my face up against the car window as I take in all the sights. The big red buses, Big Ben, London Bridge, “Oh, my god, the Queen's house,” I screech.
Harry reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“That is Buckingham Palace, miss, when the Queen is in residence the flag will be flying, as you can see, she isn't in today,” our driver, who has the poshest English accent, says.
I smile at him through the rearview mirror and go back to gawking at the streets of London. I can’t believe I am here.
“Is there anything you want to see whilst you’re here?” Harry asks, linking our fingers, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the back of mine.
“All of it.” I beam.
“So, did your dad live here?” I turn my head to look at him, feeling my face softening. He remembered. I mentioned once that my dad spent time in London, and he remembered.
“Erm, kinda. My grandma told me he studied a summer here. She told me lots of stories about him after he died and I… erm… went to live with her.”
I lower my head, noticing a loose thread on my shirt. I pull and twist it, something to distract from the ache growing in my belly at the thought of my dad and grandma. I didn't know her for long, just a couple of short years, but they were some, if not the only happy memories I had as a child.
“Yeah? What kind of stuff did he do here?” he asks, but I still don’t look up. One of my rules was no personal questions, yet I feel the urge to tell him, to share something with him.
“He studied literature. He loved to write. My grandma said he lived in a house with other foreign exchange students and one night they got really drunk and all got arrested and she nearly had to fly over to bail him out.”
Harry laughs and I look up to see his face beaming, a glow in his midnight blue eyes. “Oh man, what did he do?”
“They got caught climbing the gates of the Queen’s house. They wanted to have tea with her, apparently.”
“Yeah, that'll do it,” he jokes, squeezing my hand a little tighter. “He sounds like he was a really cool guy.”
I just nod, wishing he had not been taken from me so soon. I wish that I had more time with him. Maybe then my life would have turned out differently. Wanting to share something deeper with him I say, “He was killed in a car accident. Someone ran a red light and drove straight into him.” Unshed tears sting my eyes and I blink them away.
I don’t think my grandma ever got over it, because how do you? I feel robbed of having a dad, of having a childhood. I look down where our hands are still linked and he squeezes my hand a little tighter, as if he was letting me know he's here for me without having to say.
“Your grandma. Is she still around?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “She died when I was eighteen. I only knew her for two years, but she was a character. Loved a gin and tonic every evening and a cup of tea in the morning from her teapot that my dad brought back from England for her.” I smile at the memory.
“I’m sorry you've had so much loss in your life. It's not fair,” he says, his voice so quiet I almost miss his words.
Shrugging, I say, “It is what it is. I can't change it, so shouldn't dwell on it.” His hand tightens around mine.
“We’ll make this a trip special; I promise.” I let out a long breath and turn to look back out the window.
A warm feeling floods my chest, like a blanket has been wrapped around me, comforting me. Somehow being here makes me feel a little closer to my dad and it feels like a tiny part of my heart just healed.
We arrive at a tall apartment block which I’m told, are in fact, called flats.
The British are weird.
When I walk through the door of Harry's ‘flat’ my breath is stolen. Views of the River Thames and Big Ben cover the back wall. I drop my bag to the floor and take in my surroundings. A large entry hall opens up to an open living space where a large cream sectional couch sits in the middle of the room. I take note of the candles, trinkets and framed photographs and the faint smell of jasmine in the air.
“I like the feminine touches,” I say as I make my way over to the large window, which I now see has a balcony.
“You can thank my sister for those. This is her place.” My head snaps around to look at him, panic rising in my throat.
“This is your sister’s place? What… why are we here?”
“Relax, she’s away visiting a friend. I live with her when I’m here, but this apartment is huge, so I rarely see her.”
I must look like a deer caught in the headlights because he walks towards me, smoothing his hands up and down my arms.
He chuckles. “Relax, she’ll love you. I’d like you to meet her.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Meet his sister? He wants me to meet his sister?
My walls are instantly back up and I do what I do best. I push his buttons. “I feel like you have brought me here under false pretenses. I was promised mind-blowing sex, not a family reunion.”
“Oh, you will get plenty of that,” he tells me, wrapping his arms around me and walking us backward to the couch.
“Starting now.”
The warm spring breeze blows through my hair as I skip through the long grass, running my hands over the sharp tips of the greenery. My eyes never leaving her, always watching. I try to catch up with her, but I can’t. I call for her, but she doesn't respond, she just keeps running.
“Wait, wait for me.” I pick up my pace. She’s moved between the trees now and I can’t see her anymore, just a flash of white. I gather my long lilac gown and head for the trees. I run so fast the branches from the overhanging trees scratch at my bare chest.
I call for her again, but she doesn't answer. I can't see her. A heavy weight thuds in my chest, a crushing weight that slows me down. I try to push against it, fight it, but the weight only gets heavier. The trees now sting my skin, but I don’t give up. I have to get to her.
My legs feel like lead as I drag them across the ground.
It’s getting harder to breathe, harder to see, harder to speak.
I call her name again, but it hurts like I’ve swallowed a hundred razor blades.
A flash of white flashes before me and I see her.
I call for her again and watch as she disappears into the ground. I try to scream, but it’s muffled. I try to move, but my legs are stuck. I fall to the floor and drag my body to the spot where she disappeared.
I need to get to her; I need to save her.
I dig my nails into the hard ground, pulling myself up. It’s almost impossible to breathe now. A sharp sting shoots through me. I scream and suddenly fall, spiraling into a black hole. I fight to cling to something, anything that will keep me from falling, but there’s nothing. The sting is now an unbearable burn. All I can do is give in and fall, praying that we are both falling to Wonderland.
“Ali… Ali, wake up.”
Large hands land on my arms.
“Get off me, get off me.” A strangled scream echoes around the room, one full of pure terror, and I realize it’s mine.
“Baby, you're okay, you're okay. It's me.”
I open my eyes and they widen, my breathing erratic as I clutch the comforter to my burning chest. I take in my surroundings: large wooden bed, dark walls, and gray carpets. This isn't my room. Then it hits me: I’m in London with Harry, and he’s just witnessed the one thing I have tried to keep hidden from him.
“Ali, baby, are you okay? Here, have some water.” He hands me a glass and my shaky hands take it. I gulp every drop, welcoming the wetness soothing my dry throat.
What the hell, why am I having another nightmare?
I gasp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and running my other hand through my tangled hair. My shirt feels damp against my clammy skin.
Shit, that was a bad one.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, concern in his voice.
I shake my head. “No, I’m, I’m sorry, it must be the jetlag. I sometimes have bad dreams when I haven't slept enough. It’s nothing.”
Harry eyes me curiously, but he doesn't push and I'm grateful for that. I excuse myself to freshen up in the bathroom.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and flick on the faucet, splashing my damp face with cold water, trying to wash away the memory of what just happened. That familiar heaviness in my chest comes back and I rub my palm across my chest, feeling a sting as I do. I look down.
Shit.
I’ve clawed the hell out of my skin again. I reach for a washcloth and run it under the cold water, pressing it to my chest. The coldness making it feel a little easier to breathe. I need to get a grip on this. I can’t have Harry see me like that again. I make my way back to bed and slip in next to him, praying he doesn't push and ask questions.
He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me in a protective hold, and I sink into him. He presses a kiss to the side of my head and whispers, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I watched a scary movie on the plane, messed with my head clearly,” I say, letting out a nervous laugh, hoping he buys my blatant lie.
“Remember what I said. I’ve got you, okay? I’m here.”
I don't say a word. I squeeze his arm that he has wrapped around me, and I let myself drift off into one of the most peaceful sleeps I think I’ve ever had because, in his arms, it feels like they can’t get me anymore.