Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
ANDREW
Ring ring…. Ring ring….
Leave a message.
“Mabel, it’s me.” I pace back and forth, I’m standing out on the street while I call her, so I can talk uninterrupted if she finally answers. After the most perfect weekend of my life, she’s gone silent and I have no idea why.
“Why aren’t you answering my calls? Is something wrong?
Did something happen?” I keep pacing. “I haven’t heard from you in three days.
” I think for a moment, I need to see her.
“If I haven’t heard from you by five today, I’m coming over tonight to see you.
” I look around the street as I search for divine guidance.
“Whatever is wrong, we can work it out. Just talk to me.”
I hang up as a deep sense of dread begins to drip through my bloodstream.
What the fuck is going on?
I walk through the foyer of Mabel’s building and up to the concierge. “Hello.” He smiles.
“I’m here to see Madison Rothchild.”
“Your name?”
“Andrew Watson.”
“Yes, Mr. Watson, she’s expecting you. This way please.” He walks to the elevator and I get in beside him. As per schedule he doesn’t talk to me on the way up, and as per schedule it pisses me off.
Not tonight, fucker.
We arrive at her floor and the doors open; I expect to see Digby waiting for me like usual but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Thank you.” I step out and the doors close behind me as an eerie silence hangs in the air.
The door opens and Mabel comes into view, and by the look she gives me….
“Hi.”
“Hello.” She forces a smile. “We need to talk.” She turns and walks off and I stand for a moment as I try to work out what the fuck is going on here.
“Are you coming?” she calls.
I walk out to find her in the kitchen with a glass of wine, I notice she doesn’t offer me one. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I….” Her tongue swipes over her bottom lip. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“What?” I frown.
“It’s….” She pauses. “I’m not interested in pursuing this any longer.”
“What are you talking about?” I scoff. “After the incredible weekend we had, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I didn’t have that great a weekend.”
I blink, surprised.
“In fact, I was kind of bored.”
“What?” I snap angrily. “I think I would know if you were fucking bored. You’re lying. What’s wrong?”
“There is nothing wrong.” She shrugs casually. “I just simply don’t want to waste any more time on this. So I want you to stop calling me.”
I stare at her, filled with shock and disbelief. “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Do not dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” I growl. “Tell me why?”
“I told you why.”
“I don’t believe you, and I’m not fucking leaving until you tell me the real reason.”
She drains her wineglass.
“Now,” I demand.
“I don’t want what you’re offering.” She slams the wineglass onto the counter.
What does that mean?
Wait….
“This is about my girls?” I whisper.
“Why does every man assume that all women want to be a mother?”
“I never assumed you wanted to be a mother. I had just hoped that you wanted to love me.” I put my hand on my chest. “Every part of me…even the parts that live outside of my body…which is them.”
“I don’t.”
The walls begin to close around me.
“I don’t want to be a mother; I don’t want to be a stepmother. Hell, I don’t even want to be a fucking aunt. I don’t have plants, I don’t have pets. I don’t want responsibilities of any kind. I like it this way.”
Her silhouette blurs.
“The white picket fence is your dream, and your future,” she says softly. “I’m sorry…but it’s not mine.”
I drop my head, unable to look at her.
“So do me a favor, stop calling me. Don’t come over. Don’t text me. Don’t even fucking think about me because we are done.”
I stare at the floor, frozen on the spot.
“I never want to see you again.”
I raise my head and look her straight in the eye. “You won’t.”
I don’t remember getting downstairs, I don’t remember getting to my car, I don’t remember much about anything, but I do remember one blinding sentence.
I never want to see you again.
The television hums in the background, the clock ticks on the wall. I sip my beer and glance at my watch, it’s 3 a.m.
The last four days have been a challenge…. Since she….
I sip my beer as her words swing through my mind like a depressing pendulum.
I keep going over our conversation and the things I should have said.
Can’t sleep, can’t eat…barely able to function.
This cut feels particularly deep, sliced all the way to the bone.
I can’t even explain it, it’s not like we were in love or anything, we hardly even know each other.
And I can’t hate her or be angry…. I’m just sad.
Grappling with a feeling that I just lost something of immeasurable worth.
My person….
I look around the living room and the mess of half-packed boxes all over the floor, I have so much to do and yet all I seem to accomplish is feeling sorry for myself.
How was I so blindsided? So besotted that I couldn’t tell that I was in this alone.
It’s rocked me, every kiss from her felt like a love story that I’ve waited forever to read.
But not for her.
I drain my bottle of beer, tomorrow I’ll do better. I’ll get up and pack the bedrooms and start ticking off my to-do list.
I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here. New York isn’t where I’m supposed to be anymore.
I shower, drag myself into bed, and turn off the light.
I never want to see you again.
In the silence, and the dark, I stare up at the ceiling and feel my heart break all over again.
“Okay, Kaia,” I instruct. “Grab that box because we’re going to start packing your room.
” I put my hands onto my hips as I look around, somehow and I don’t know how, we’re midway through packing and the house is a complete dumpster fire.
I can’t even see the tunnel, let alone the light at the end of it.
It’s been eight days since I saw Mabel.
What was heartbreak has now turned to rage, a much more stable state to be in.
This I can deal with, this I can get over.
Fuck. Her.
If she can’t see how wonderful my girls are then she doesn’t deserve to know them. And if falling for her makes me pathetic, it’s only because it was for someone unworthy of my affection.
I begin to rage-pack, a new form of therapy that works wonders for the soul. The angrier I pack, the better I feel. I guestimate that in two days I’ll have forgotten all about her.
I stuff things into a box with force.
“You’re going to break something doing it like that,” Kaia scoffs.
“Just put your dolls into the box,” I snap. “Stop worrying about what I’m doing.”
I imagine Mabel sitting in that cement skyscraper all alone.
Good, serves her right.
I hope all that money she has keeps her warm at night, because her heart is ice fucking cold.
I look around and somehow the room seems even messier than when we started. “You have way too many things, Kaia.”
“Well.” She puts her hands onto her hips as she looks around. “I didn’t buy any of it.”
I glance up at her.
“What?” She shrugs. “I don’t have any money, you bought all of this stuff.”
“Fair call,” I mutter under my breath. “Keep packing.”
MABEL
The rain comes down as the car weaves through traffic, I sit in the back seat and stare out the window. Lost deep in the darkness of my mind.
“Is everything alright, Miss Rothchild?” Dante asks.
“Yes.” I keep my eyes out the window.
“Can I….” He falters and my eyes rise to meet his in the rearview mirror. “Can I book your favorite restaurant tonight?” He forces a smile. “You haven’t been in a while.”
“No.” I drag my eyes away from his. “Thank you anyway.”
“You don’t appear well, Miss Rothchild, I’m worried for your welfare. Shall I call your doctor for a home visit tonight?”
I swallow the painful lump in my throat as I stare out at New York flashing by.
“I’m just tired, Dante.” I force a smile. “I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”
He nods and keeps driving, and I keep staring out the window as the shadows creep in again.
No doctor can fix me, I’m incurable.
ANDREW
I clutch the red envelope in my hand as I stand outside the skyscraper, it’s moving day and in a few hours the truck is arriving to collect our things. Tonight I, the girls and Sally will be in our new home in the Hudson Valley, far away from the city of New York.
There’s just one last thing I needed to do and I couldn’t bring myself to leave without seeing it through.
I walk up to reception and to the concierge. “Hello. Can I leave this for Miss Rothchild?”
“Of course.” The man takes the red envelope from me. “I’ll put it in her letterbox now.”
“Okay.” I nod as I step back from him. “When…. When does she check that?”
“Daily.” He puts the envelope down beside his computer. “I’ll call for someone to come and collect it now.”
“Thank you.” My eyes flick to the letter and I want to make sure it goes to her letterbox because damn it, the words are written in my blood. “She will get it?”
“Of course, sir, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you.” With one last look around her building, I push through the front doors.
The truck pulls into Chesterfield Manor and the girls bounce and scream in excitement.
“There’s cows!”
“Holy shit,” Sally cries as she looks around in awe. “Is this for real?”
I laugh out loud at their reaction. “What do you think, guys?”
“We love it.”
I park the car and we go inside and to the sounds of screams of excitement, I know I did the right thing.
“Our new life starts tonight.”
THREE WEEKS LATER.
CHRISTMAS DAY.
Dear Diary,
My name is Andrew Watson and at the ripe old age of thirty-four, I’m starting a diary for the first time in my life, I guess when Santa delivered it this morning he planned for me to write it all down. Not sure why…. But here goes nothing.
Perhaps this will be a new tradition, write in a leather-bound book once a year, only to never touch it again.
It’s Christmas night, a cup of eggnog is sitting on the desk beside me as I put pen to paper. The house is silent, Home Alone is playing on the television in the background and through the window I can see snowflakes softly float through the air before joining the ice blanket on the ground.
My life is…. Complicated, and messy. Just like my heart, and although I waited for a Christmas Miracle today, she never showed up.
I hold the pen in my hand as I think, how do I even start this…oh wait, I know.
Once upon a time….
Bang, bang, bang.
What’s that?
I peer out the window to see the front sensor light is on. Wait…is someone at the door?
Is it….
I stand and rush down the stairs and tear open the door and my eyes widen. “Mabel.”
Her mouth falls open when she sees me. “Andrew.”
We stare at each other and it’s still there, all the magic she brought to me. It’s all still there. I can feel it swirling between us like a tangible force.
“I’m…. I’m.” She swallows the lump in her throat as her eyes search mine. “I’m sorry….”
“It doesn’t matter.” I cut her off. I know we have a million things to work through, but she’s here. She read my letter and she wants to try.
She’s here and that’s all that matters.
“I…” she whispers, it feels like a rope is tied around us, pulling us together.
Magnetism stronger than ever.
“You came.” I smile.
She stares at me and a million questions run between us but before she can say another word, I take her into my arms and kiss her. “Merry Christmas, my Mabel.”
Merry Christmas my beautiful friends.
Thank you for your wonderful support
I’m forever grateful.
xox
If you want A Forever Kind of Kiss to be wrapped in a tidy neat little bow, stop reading now.
But…for those of you who want to see a start of the full version of
A Forever Kind of Kiss…
Read on….
Mabel pulls out of my kiss and steps back. “Andrew,” she whispers. “What are you doing here?”
“What?” I frown.
“What are you doing here?” she asks again.
“What are you talking about?” I screw up my face. “You know what I’m doing here.”
“But….” She screws up her face too. “How would I know what you’re doing here?”
“Wait a minute.” I hold my hands up. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” she snaps.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap.
“I need to see the caretaker,” she fires back.
The tone….
“What. For.” I fume as I put my hands on my hips, I’m confused as all hell, is she trying to prank me or something?
“Because the power has gone out in the house and I’ll have no heating overnight.”
What the actual fuck is going on?
“What house?” I ask.
“Chesterfield Manor, what house could I be talking about?”
Wait a minute….
“You’re staying at Chesterfield Manor for Christmas?” I gasp.
“What are you on, Andrew? I fucking own it.”
I blink, horrified.
No….
“So I take it you’re the caretaker?” she snarls, hands on hips.
Adrenaline surges through my body as fury rages like never before. “That’s right.”
“I have no power. Do your job and fix it.”
I get a vision of tying her to the Christmas tree and zapping her with the lights.
“Hurry up, I’m freezing.” She rubs her leather-gloved hands together. “This is the last thing I want to be doing on Christmas night.”
My eyes flicker red.
I’ll do a job alright; I’ll push her off the fucking roof.
I grab my coat, pull on my boots and storm past her toward the manor.
“This is un-fucking-believable,” I fume, I keep stomping as steam shoots from my ears.
“What are you doing?” she cries from behind me. “Wait for me. This is slippery and very dangerous; I could fall over in the snow.”
“Don’t worry.” I march toward the manor. “I’ll cover up the body.”
“What does that mean?” she yells.
I turn back toward her like the devil himself. “It means Merry Fucking Christmas Mabel, you massive pain in my fucking ass!”