Chapter Twenty-One
Gavin: Ethan, why are you dodging your mom’s phone calls?
Ethan: What are you talking about?
Gavin: My mom said your mom said you haven’t called her back in over a week.
Jamie: This wouldn’t have anything to do with not wanting to tell her about a certain someone staying in your guest room, would it?
Baz: Like she’s really staying in his guest room.
Ethan: I’ve been busy.
Gavin: Too busy to call your own mother?
Jamie: You better call her soon. Tessa’s been stalling when she talks to her but at some point she’s going to forget and say something about Hannah.
Ethan: I’ll call her while Hannah’s getting ready for the premiere tomorrow.
Gavin: Speaking of the premiere, what are you wearing?
Ethan: A suit.
Gavin: What kind of suit?
Ethan: There are different kinds of suits?
Baz: Amateur.
Ethan: A nice suit.
Ethan: My usual suit.
Ethan: Was I supposed to get a special kind of suit for this?
Jamie: Do you need me to ask Tessa to come help you pick out a suit?
Gavin: Maybe you could borrow one from Baz.
Ethan: No one’s going to be looking at me. They’re all going to be looking at Hannah.
Gavin: You are her date to her first public appearance since her very public break up from a bona fide celebrity. Everyone’s going to be looking at you.
Jamie: Tessa says she’s happy to come take a look at your suit and let you know if it will work.
Ethan: I don’t need my daughter to dress me. My suit is fine.
Baz: Don’t underestimate the importance of a good suit.
Gavin: Is suit starting to look like a fake word to anyone else?
Gavin: Suit
Gavin: SUIT
Gavin: Suit suit suit
Ethan: Would you knock it off?
Jamie: Tessa says your pocket square should match Hannah’s dress.
Ethan: What pocket square? Who the fuck wears a pocket square?
Baz: Everyone who wears a decent suit.
∞∞∞
“What about these?”
Ethan appeared in the doorway to the living room holding up two ties: one a pale blue with some kind of swirling pattern in a darker shade, and the other solid black.
Hannah looked up from her book and considered the ties. “The black one.”
He nodded and disappeared back into his bedroom where he’d been busy packing for the better part of the afternoon. They should have left for New York an hour ago at least, but neither of them seemed in a particular rush to leave Aster Bay. She turned her attention back to the book, a 1980s bodice ripper Ethan swore he only had as “research,”
and tried not to think about the uneasy prickle at the back of her neck at the idea of returning to the City.
Her phone buzzed on the couch beside her. Hannah stuck a finger in her book to keep her place and answered. “Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad I caught you,”
her mother said through the phone. “I know how busy you’ll be tomorrow and I wanted to wish you luck on your big premiere.”
“From me too!”
her father shouted in the background.
“From both of us,”
her mother amended. “We’re just so darn proud of you, Hannah.”
“Thanks, Mom. I wish you guys could be there.”
“We’ll be there in spirit. And we already bought tickets to see it at the theater here for Saturday night.”
“Tell her we’re taking Bob Carmichael and his wife,”
her father shouted.
“She doesn’t care about Bob Carmichael,”
her mother tutted to her father, before saying to Hannah, “You don’t care about Bob Carmichael. But your father is very excited to show you off. And don’t forget to send me pictures tomorrow. I want at least one good photo of you and your young man from the evening.”
“There will be plenty of photos in the press, I’m sure,”
Hannah said.
“I don’t want a photo everyone else gets to see. I want the photo you want to send your mother. The photo I would take if I was there to see you off.”
Hannah could hear the tears gathering in her mother’s voice. “Just like when you went to prom.”
Hannah groaned. “This is nothing like prom.”
“Maybe I should bring both ties in case something happens,”
Ethan said, reappearing in the living room doorway with the same two ties still in his hands.
“Is that him?”
her mother asked into the phone. “Let me say hello!”
“Mom, I don’t think—”
“Hannah Matthews, you put that young man on the phone right now.”
Hannah sighed and covered the microphone on her phone with her palm. “My mom wants to say hi to you.”
She grimaced. “You don’t have to.”
Ethan dropped the ties on the arm of the couch and held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”
“I can tell her no.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Hand it over, city girl.”
Hannah lifted the phone to her ear again. “Be nice,”
she said, before handing it over to Ethan, just as her mother said, “I’m always nice.”
“Hi, Mrs. Matthews. This is Ethan Hart.”
He held the phone to his ear, his other hand resting on his hip and his eyes glued to Hannah’s, a playfulness dancing across his face as he listened to her mother on the other end. “Mmhmm, I agree.”
“What’s she saying?”
Ethan pressed his lips together like he was holding back a smile. Ethan chuckled. “You have a very nice voice yourself.”
If she only knew how nice of a voice he has...
Another pause.
“I’ll be forty-five this Saturday, ma’am.”
Oh, not the ‘ma’am.’ Her mother would eat that shit up with a spoon.
He laughed again, his eyes sparkling as they skated over her, like he was cataloging the exact way she looked sitting on his couch. “It’s been my pleasure.”
Hannah’s face was hot. Listening to him talk to her mother should not be a turn on.
“I promise I’ll take good care of her, Mrs. Matthews.”
Hannah groaned and flopped back on the couch, draping an arm over her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Her mother was not giving Ethan a “be good to her”
speech. Hannah was thirty-two years old, for God’s sake. And yet, there was something about the gravel in his voice that made his promise feel like it was meant just for her.
“I’d like that,”
he said, his lips quirking up in a grin as he watched Hannah, like he knew exactly how goddamn sexy he was. “Take care now.”
He hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch beside her as he crawled over her, the weight of him pressing her down into the soft cushions.
“You talked to my mom,”
she whispered, scratching her fingers through his beard.
“She seems nice,”
he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“And she clearly liked you.”
“I’m nice too,”
he said, nuzzling into her hair. “I can be very nice.”
She lifted his face to hers and kissed him, dissolving under the solid weight of him, the pressure of his thighs bracketing her hips, the scratch of his beard. She dug her hands into his hair and tugged the way she knew he liked, a giddy giggle bubbling up behind her lips when he groaned in response and moved a thigh between her legs, kissing her deeper. He dragged his teeth over her lower lip and pulled away, shooting her a sheepish grin.
“We should get on the road before it’s dark.”
“Just five more minutes,”
she said, sliding her hands down his back.
“Five minutes isn’t enough.”
He captured her hands and pressed kisses to each palm as he sat up, pulling her with him. She missed his weight instantly. “And we’ll have all night in that fancy hotel.”
Suddenly, the idea of being in a hotel with Ethan felt wrong, like taking a step backwards. She didn’t want more time with hotel-Ethan; she wanted more time with Aster Bay-Ethan.
“What if I don’t want to spend the night in a fancy hotel? What if I want another night here?”
He scratched his hand over the back of his neck, his eyes narrowing. “Your premiere is tomorrow.”
“I know,”
she said, suddenly feeling like a petulant child. “I guess I’m not ready to say goodbye to this place.”
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
He took her hand between both of his, his thumbs skating over her wrist as he spoke. His eyes were soft and earnest in a way that tugged at her heart. “Come back with me after the premiere. You can film your audition tapes from here as easily as you can from New York.”
It wasn’t entirely true. In New York she had a favorite practice studio and she knew the exact right place to stand in her apartment to get the best lighting. But in Aster Bay she had a gorgeous man who loved nothing more than driving her crazy with his tongue between her legs, so it seemed like a fair trade off.
“I guess I don’t have anything I need to be in the City for right away,”
she hedged. “And who knows how aggressive the press will be after the premiere.”
“Give them some more time to move on and stay here for a little longer.”
Hannah searched his eyes, the open, hopeful gleam making her wish she could stay forever. But that would be crazy. She had a career in New York, friends, a whole life. This time in Aster Bay was a beautiful intermission but, at some point, she’d have to return to her real life.
“Doesn’t that just prolong the inevitable?”
she asked.
His lips pressed into a flat line, some of the hope fading in his eyes. “I’ll take every day I can get, Han.”
Her chest squeezed and for a moment she let herself imagine what it would be like if they had endless days. To wake each morning and fall asleep each night in his arms knowing there was no clock ticking down the hours until they’d have to admit their lives were not compatible. She didn’t need to ask him to know he’d never leave Aster Bay—his family was here—and since Rhode Island wasn’t exactly a commutable distance to Broadway, she would eventually have no choice but to leave.
But that was future-Hannah's problem.
“Okay. I’ll come back with you, as long as you promise to tell me the second you get sick of me and want me out of your hair.”
A smile split across his face and he kissed her, hard and fast. “Won’t be a problem, sweetheart, because I won’t be getting sick of you.”
Ethan climbed off the couch and disappeared around the corner into his bedroom again. Hannah flopped back and focused on the irregular pattern in the popcorn ceiling. “We should probably talk about how we’re going to introduce you,”
she called.
“To who?”
he shouted back from the other room.
“To the press.”
His head popped back into the living room. “Why would I need to be introduced?”
“When we walk the carpet, they’re going to ask who you are. Your name. Who we are to each other.”
“Oh.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Do you want to go by Ethan, or by Slade?”
His brows knitted together. “Why would I want to go by Slade?”
“I don’t know. Some people like to use a stage name with the press. I wasn’t sure if you wanted—”
“But these people will be seeing my face. People I know might see these pictures. People who don’t know about Slade.”
“Ethan,”
she said gently, “even if we give the press your real name, they might still figure out about Slade.”
He reeled back as though she’d punched him. “How? How would they do that unless someone told them?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how much they’re going to care or how hard they’re going to dig, but some of these reporters...”
She thought about that photo through her living room window, the one taken from her fire escape, and a shiver flitted over her skin. “They can be ruthless when they want to be. If there’s any chance they could find a trail that connects you to Slade, you might want to tell your friends and family anyway, so they hear it from you first.”
“That is not an option,”
he said, slashing his hand through the air like he could wipe away the suggestion, his vehemence catching her off guard. “And there’s nothing connecting us. The only other people who know I’m Slade Hardcastle are Baz and the author. And the grandma gang.”
“You’re sure?”
He nodded tightly. “No one else knows. No one else needs to know.”
“Okay. Then we’ll introduce you by your real name. I’m sure it will be fine.”
She should leave well enough alone, but she couldn’t help herself. “Can I ask you something? Why not just tell your friends? Wouldn’t that be easier than trying to keep it a secret?”
An emotion flickered across his face before he hardened his features again, a glimpse at something he kept hidden away from her, a part of him she’d never been invited to access before.
“I’ve put my family through enough,”
he said at last.
“What does that mean?”
He sighed and sank into the armchair opposite her. She wished he’d sat beside her, that she could touch him, reassure him while he spoke.
“You don’t know what it’s like in a small town. When I got Steph pregnant, it was all anyone could talk about. My choices defined my entire family for over a decade. There are still people in this town who judge me and my daughter because of a choice I made when I was sixteen.”
“And you think if people in town knew about Slade, they’d judge you for that too.”
“Not just me, but Tessa. My parents. My granddaughter. Those assholes who made Steph feel so unwelcome she had to leave town—what would they do to my business? My family’s legacy?”
Pain slashed across his face. “All my parents worked for, my grandparents, building the vineyard. I will not bring another scandal to their doorstep.”
Hannah moved across the room, kneeling at his feet and taking his hands in hers. “That was decades ago. Don’t you think attitudes have evolved even a little since then?”
“I won’t put my daughter through that again. What kind of father would I be? What kind of grandfather?”
“Tessa doesn’t strike me as the kind of person that’s particularly afraid of some narrow-minded gossip. She did marry your best friend, after all. That must have sparked some rumors around town.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
He stroked a hand through her hair, pushing the loose strands behind her ear, but there was a sadness in his voice that made her want to wrap him up in her arms and never let go.
“For what it’s worth, I think your friends and family would want to support you. To celebrate with you. I think they’d want to know this part of you, since it’s obviously important enough to you to pursue, despite the risk of being found out.”
“There’s no risk. I love them too much to hurt them.”
“What makes you think they love you any less?”
He still cradled her cheek in his hand, but his eyes were far off, lost in thought. Hannah turned her face into his palm, pressing a kiss to the center of his hand. “I’m going to go unpack a few things, now that I’ll be coming back. Then we can get on the road.”
She got to her feet and was already halfway down the hall when he called after her, “Don’t leave behind the red lace thing you wore the other night.”
She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have plenty of lace things packed.”
“But not the red one?”
he hollered.
She smiled to herself. “Many red ones.”
From The Lady’s Knights by A K Wild, narrated by Slade Hardcastle
Sir Llewellyn held his post by the dais and watched as Lady Windtorn and Lord Havenbrook twirled about the ballroom floor. Each smile the woman he loved gave to her husband, each laugh that floated on the air towards him, was a lance through his heart. Yet he couldn’t look away.
It was his duty, after all, to be vigilant and never let them leave his sight.
Because he was so watchful he knew her smiles were strained, her laughter brittle. He knew she performed for the assembled lords, the ones who had come to broker a peace that had been bought with her sham of a marriage. All they had worked for, the sacrifice of her freedom, of their love, would be for naught if she was not convincing.
And, oh, how convincing she was.
Convincing enough that, had he not woken her with his mouth between her legs that very morning, he would have believed her. But Sir Llewellyn knew the woman behind the title, the one so few had dared to find, and this was not her.
“Sir Llewellyn.”
He stood straighter as Lord Havenbrook and Lady Windtorn approached. “Dance with my wife.”
His jaw tightened, spine stiffened, as his gaze passed between the pair. “My lord?”
Her husband placed Lady Windtorn’s hand in Sir Llewellyn’s, clasping them together and spoke louder for the benefit of their visitors’ curiosity. “I am weary, yet my wife does not tire.”
He laughed, but his eyes held the world-weariness of a man also playing a role. “Be my feet and give her a turn around the room.”
It was a kindness, one that sent shame simmering through Sir Llewellyn’s blood. That this man, the lord he had pledged his loyalty to, should offer him this moment to which he had no right, should allow them to pretend for a moment they could be the kind of lovers who danced in a crowded room…
The two men locked eyes, an understanding passing between them, and, with a creaky voice, Sir Llewellyn replied, “Yes, my lord.”
He led her back onto the dance floor beneath the curious looks of the assembled guests. At the center of the floor, he bowed as she dipped into a curtsy, then he swept her into his arms and they danced. This time, when she smiled, it was with an unrestrained joy that pulled his own answering smile to the surface, and when she laughed, the sound washed over him like a balm. Her skirts swirled around their legs as he spun her across the floor, ever aware of the eyes turned in their direction.
“They all stare,”
she said, trembling.
He held her gaze with his own. “It is hard to look away from perfection.”
Her smile faltered. “I fear this is a miscalculation. They will wonder who you are that you look at me this way.”
“How do I look at you, my lady?”
“As though you…”
Her voice faded away, the words unsaid hanging in the space carefully kept between them.
“As though I love you?”
She drew in a breath, her feet losing their rhythm for a moment, but he swept her along. He would not let her fall. “How could anyone look upon you tonight and not love you?”
His chest ached to hold her closer, to press his lips to her temple and breathe in the rosewater scent of her hair, but he maintained their posture. “It is long past time for all to acknowledge the truth. You, my lady, are infinitely lovable.”