16. “Faded” - Alan Walker
“Faded” - Alan Walker
Add “becoming an entire bed for my dog while he naps sitting up” to the list of things I didn’t expect from life.
“Tundra,” I say, and push back against him. He’s leaning on me so hard that I’m about to fall over. Jerking upright, he looks at me, tongue lolling out of his mouth like he also doesn’t know who the idiot was who almost knocked me over.
“Sorry, buddy. I’m not upset at you. It’s this stupid financial crisis.” I scan the budget in my hand once more.
He whines and cocks his head.
“I know, but I don’t have a clue how to handle it. No one seems to have any ideas for me.”
This time he barks.
“Okay, fine. One person had ideas.” I frown at him. “But they weren’t any good.”
Were they? Even Beck seemed to think I’d go to Henry for help solving this. Maybe if I heard him out, we could meet in the middle with a plan.
“All right,” I say, standing up. “You convinced me. But I’m only going to listen to him. I’m not agreeing to anything yet.” I hold up a finger as Tundra looks at me expectantly.
I leave the bedroom to find the whole flat quiet.
All I hear is the sound of the vacuum running in one of the guest rooms. I try the gym first, but the lights are off.
Next I check the home theater and the billiard room, but they’re both empty.
That leaves Henry’s office, where I’m unlikely to find him given that it’s evening, and his bedroom, which I’m not about to enter.
I open the door to his office, fully expecting it to be as empty as the rest of the place, but the lights are still on. I’m about to step inside when my blood runs cold.
They’re on the other side of the room, near the window, and they don’t seem to have heard or seen me. I only wish I could say the same for myself.
Henry is standing with Bea cradled against his chest, his head bent near hers. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I can see his hand running up and down her back. I know exactly what that embrace feels like, because I’ve been on the receiving end of it more than once.
I quietly pull the door shut behind me and run to the bathroom.
I haven’t eaten much today—some eggs for breakfast, some take-away Bea had delivered for lunch—but it all comes back up as I heave over the toilet.
I use bathroom tissue to wipe my mouth and rest my head on my knees.
My hands are shaking when I press the flush lever.
What was I thinking? He told me nothing was going on with Bea, and I actually bought it. I wanted to believe that Henry could change, that I was special enough to warrant that kind of character arc in someone.
But I’m a fool. A pathetic fool.
Henry isn’t ever going to change, and certainly not for me.
I refuse to let tears fall. This is my punishment, the consequence of allowing myself to go there.
Isn’t this what I was waiting for anyway?
The whole reason I invited Bea to stay at the penthouse in the first place?
I knew it would happen. It was only a matter of time.
Leopards don’t change their spots, and tigers don’t change their stripes. Only a fool would expect a player to change his ways.
I decide to explore the flat, to distract myself but also to put as much distance between those two and myself as I can.
Tucked between two of the guest bedrooms is a small library I’ve never seen before.
I slip inside and close the door behind me.
Even Tundra doesn’t know where I am. He’ll have to play Leaning Tower of Pisa with someone else.
The space is small and cozy. It holds only a fraction as many books as my father’s library at Maison de Lierre or the massive one at the palace, but there’s something about its intimacy. This is the only room in Henry’s entire flat that feels remotely homey.
I pull out my phone and make the call.
The Duke of Sutherland answers on the second ring. “Your Majesty.”
“Hello, William. I trust this isn’t a bad time?”
He grunts his assent, and I dearly hope this wasn’t a bad move. “I’m calling about the royal budget.”
“I heard about Parliament’s denial.”
“I’m not sure what to do next.” I pause for a few seconds. “I was hoping you could help me.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, then finally tells me, “Aside from cutting expenses and petitioning to raise the Civil List until they finally give it to you, I only see one other option.”
“And that is?”
“Marrying someone with a private income.”
I cross the room to the single window overlooking the city. “Excuse me?”
“You’re free now, and you’ll need an heir eventually. The way I see it, you can hit two birds with one stone this way.”
Good lord, he’s actually serious. “And you think there’s a line of gentlemen just waiting to be married for their money.”
“You’d be surprised.”
I cough out a laugh. “Thank you for your advice, Lord Sutherland. I will certainly consider it.”
After ending the call, I sink into one of the two armchairs. I really am out of options. Loathe as I am to ever see his face again, listening to Henry’s plans is my only choice.
My phone pings in my hand. It’s the scheming prick himself.
Henry: We’re setting up Monopoly in the billiards room. You in?
I toss my device onto the other chair. Like I’m going to be party to their canoodling for another night. But on second thought, if I don’t text back, he’ll come looking for me.
I grab the phone again.
Me: No thanks.
I’m still glued to my chair when the door opens ten minutes later. “There you are,” Bea says. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn to face her. “You found me.” I hold up the book I was trying and entirely failing to read. Turns out reading while angry doesn’t really work.
She looks fresh and glowing in a baby-pink cashmere lounge set. It sets off the flush in her cheeks. I, on the other hand, am still in my day dress and heels.
“Henry said you weren’t going to play a game with us. I’m here to beg you to reconsider.”
His name coming out of her mouth grips my heart like a vise. I want to scrape it from her tongue. “I’m not feeling well,” I say. “I’m going to pass tonight.”
“Come on, Celia.” She sticks out her lower lip. “I’m only going to be here for a few weeks. The least you can do is spend time with me before I leave.”
Bea’s manipulations are so thin even a child can see through them, but it doesn’t matter because she’s so irresistible. She is Odysseus’s siren, and not even the strongest of men can deny her.
Especially those whose names start with an H and end in “enry.”
Sisters also tend to become her prey, which is why I find myself laying my book aside and saying, “Fine.”
I follow her down the hall to the game room, using the back of her ponytail-swinging head as target practice for my mind darts. Which isn’t fair, if I’m honest, because I invited her into this trap knowing this would happen. I set up my own sister, and now I’m angry that she fell for it.
Well, fuck if I care. I aim one last mental dart. It hits her smack in the parietal lobe. Perfect score for me.
We find Henry already sitting at the baize-covered table in the corner.
I hate his perfectly tousled hair. I hate the stupid Harvard sweatshirt he’s wearing, the same one I wore last week.
I hate the stupid grin on his face when we walk in.
I hate that I have to sit beside him and smell that bloody awful scent of his.
I hate that he picked the Scottie piece for me like he knows what I want.
“I don’t want the dog,” I say, tossing it back into the box. Tundra lifts his head from where he’s lying at Henry’s feet and looks at me mournfully. “Not you,” I say to him, and add “stealing my dog” to the list of things I hate about the man.
Henry looks at me for a beat, then hands me the box. “Okay. What do you want to be?”
I grab the race car and place it next to the top hat and sack of money on Go. I imagine myself driving over both of them in my shiny vehicle.
“I’ll be the banker,” Bea announces.
We move around the board in relative silence until Henry serves drinks, and about three sips into her margarita, Bea starts giggling. “You’re all going down tonight,” she says. “I’m feeling very lucky.”
“You’re gonna need it,” I mutter into my wine glass.
Henry shoots me a look before rolling the dice. He buys Illinois Avenue, which leads to Bea exclaiming, “I was collecting the reds!”
He chuckles. “Sorry, princess. It’s mine now.”
He passes the dice to me, and I wait for him to release them before reaching out my hand. I land on Free Parking, but there isn’t even any money under it, making this one of the worst games in the history of mankind.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a long swig of wine. I’ll give them an hour of my time, then I’m done.
Bea throws doubles. “See? I told you I’m feeling lucky.” She rerolls, and it happens again.
“One more and you’re in the jailhouse,” Henry teases.
Licking her gloss-covered lips, she tosses the dice again. It’s her third set of doubles.
Henry makes a mock moan as Bea moves the money bag into jail. She looks seriously pissed. Losing isn’t something she’s had much experience with.
“Hey, cheer up.” Henry bumps her arm. “I’ll come visit you.”
“Promise?” she asks.
“Absolutely.” He refills her glass. “Your luck is just getting started.”
“I need to use the restroom,” I say. “Excuse me.”
They barely look up as I walk out.
When I reach the hallway, I stop and lean against the wall, sucking several deep breaths into my lungs.
I don’t know how I’ll be able to tolerate another hour of this.
The vision of them together in Henry’s office is still seared into my mind.
And Bea’s only been here five days. How will I ever get through another three weeks?
I square my shoulders. I’ll do it the same way you get through anything—by gritting your teeth and deciding that this will not be the thing that brings you down.
If Henry and Bea want to hook up, what’s it to me?
Bea is old enough to make her own mistakes, and Henry—well, Henry can go rot in hell for all I care.
He’s only proven that I was right in not trusting or believing him.
I should be grateful. Lifting my chin, I walk back into the room.
“Finally,” Bea says. “Hurry up and take your turn. I’m wasting away in jail, remember?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t take it for me.”
“I wanted to, but Henry wouldn’t let me.” She shoots him a faux-annoyed look. The one I give her is real-annoyed.
Bea doesn’t roll the necessary doubles to get out. “I’ll be stuck in here forever,” she says, chin in her hand. “Does anybody have a Get Out of Jail Free card they’ll sell me?”
I toss mine across the table. “Just take it if it means you’ll stop whining.”
The pout melts off her face. “What’s your problem?”
“You okay?” Henry reaches across the table for my arm.
I yank it back and hiss, “Don’t touch me.”
He blinks and moves back. “Sorry.”
Play continues around the board, but the mood has shifted. They are both regarding me as though I’m a loose tiger, which is ridiculous considering they’re acting like a pair of mating rabbits. My nausea intensifies.
When I have to mortgage Baltimore Avenue to pay the school tax, I finally realize how little I’ve been paying attention to the game. I have a measly four properties and no upgrades. Henry, meanwhile, is putting his second house on Boardwalk.
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever owned Boardwalk,” he says. “You’re off your game tonight, C.”
“Yeah, that seems to be the trend of late.”
I can feel him looking at me, but I refuse to meet his eyes. He can take his fake concern and go shove it. He’s not fooling anyone.
Tundra pads over to me and rests his head on my leg. My fingers wind their way through his fur. Apparently even he is picking up on the hostility in the room.
As Bea and Henry take their turns, I plot a way to bankrupt myself and leave the game. I’m in the process of mortgaging my second property when the nausea hits again. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I run for the powder room in the hall.
Once I’ve finished vomiting what little I had in my stomach, including the wine, which makes my throat burn, I rinse my mouth with cold water from the faucet.
Henry is standing outside when I open the door. The concern in his eyes is real. “You’re sick again?” he says.
“I’m feeling better now.”
“What did you eat today?”
I try to remember, but my brain feels foggy. “Eggs. Some take-away for lunch.”
“What take-away?”
“It was Thai,” Bea says from beside him. I didn’t even notice her there.
“That’s the second time you’ve eaten take-away and gotten sick,” Henry says. “I don’t like those odds.”
“I think I’ll go to bed now,” I say, and start to move past them.
He slips an arm around my waist. “I’ll walk with you.”
Loathe as I am to admit it, that’s probably a good thing, because my head keeps spinning until I’m finally lying down. Henry tugs my heels off, pulls the comforter up to my chin, and smooths the hair from my brow.
“No more take-away, okay?”
“You want me to starve?”
“I’ll hire a private chef. But no outside food.”
I murmur my assent before falling asleep, already sinking into dreams that consist of Henry taking care of me and, for once, not breaking my heart.