20
“Luna Aldridge Heads to English Countryside to Attend Mansfield Mansion Event”
—LVH Knows
“WHAT’S WRONG?” KIERAN asked. He stepped forward, his hand a whisper from my hip.
“Nothing, I—I need to go.”
“Go where?” He tried to follow me.
“No, Kieran, I need you to leave me alone. Just five minutes alone.” My voice was frigid. He paused, assessing the situation before accepting it.
“Okay.”
“Thank you,” was all I said before walking off, down the hall.
Jeremiah stood around the corner, waiting. He knew I’d come. The last time I had seen him in person was at my front door in Rhode Island. I had emptied two tissue boxes, eaten five bowls of oatmeal mixed with peanut butter, and memorized every crack in my father’s office ceiling.
My mouth was dry. Nostalgia, what a duplicitous friend. It was already creeping in, burrowing itself under my skin, reminding me of what it was like to be with him, to be admired by him, to be loved by him, to be acknowledged by him. And only a second had passed.
My year-long nightmare was standing in front of me.
His chestnut hair was shorter than the last time I had run my hands through it. His jaw was softer with facial hair now too.
The corner of his mouth quirked into an innocent smile. “You look… beautiful, wow,” he said warmly, leaning in for a hug like I hadn’t threatened to call my lawyer the last time we spoke. I tried to contain my flinch—the same gesture in the New York City hotel flashing behind my eyes.
I made an effort to back up, but he was taller. Quicker. He squeezed my shoulders the same way he did when we were married. A piece of me wanted to lean in. But I kept my hands at my sides.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, hoping my voice would have more spite.
“You won’t answer my calls, and I saw the event, and we’re both in London, so…”
“Because we’re playing in the same tournament, not because of some—some serendipitous encounter.”
“You don’t think there’s anything serendipitous about the fact that your husband happened to learn about this event the day it was happening?”
“You can’t call yourself that anymore.”
He ignored me. “I took off practice to see you.” I knew how that sounded. But he offered it as an olive branch. A sign of I’m trying, see? You’re worth it.
“Well, I’m sorry it was wasted.”
“This wasn’t a waste to me. Let me take you out to dinner. I just want to talk.”
“I really don’t want to talk,” I admitted, growing impatient.
“Then practice with me; you can serve every time. Or invite me to one of your matches, or come to one of mine,” he suggested. “I’ll take anything.”
“I’m in a relationship now, Jeremiah, I can’t see you, nor do I want to.”
“Really? The stunt with that actor?” He laughed. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you don’t believe me.” Walk away. Walk away.
“Why are you resisting this? Why are you resisting me?” he asked. He always had a response. Never blundered or stumped.
Because you broke my heart. But I didn’t have the guts to say it.
“What are you doing this weekend?” he asked.
“Practic—”
“Don’t lie to me, we both know you don’t practice the weekend before a tournament.” Bad luck. My muscles needed time to recover, not tear with no time to repair. “Bad luck,” he remembered.
“I’m busy,” I answered.
“You’re Luna Aldridge, of course you’re busy,” he said it with admiration, like I was someone important. “I want to know how I can find myself in those plans. Unless you have none…”
I rolled my eyes.
“There she is,” he said, his voice sounding like my husband’s, rather than the man who cheated on me a year ago. “The woman who was never scared to tell me no but always wanted to say yes.”
“That is not true!” I argued, almost on the verge of a laugh.
“You told me no all the time. No to Horror Movie Mondays. No to a pet turtle—which was a fun idea! No to my paint color in the kitchen.” I missed that kitchen. Perfect shade of periwinkle. “Quite a lot of nos as of late,” he said.
“That’s not fair,” I started, any sign of a laugh withdrawn.
“You’re right, I know. Let’s start over: You have no plans, and we’re both in the same country this weekend… Maybe you could be my date to the Mansfield.”
The Mansfield Mansion was an estate-turned-hotel north of London that held a ball the weekend before Wimbledon every year.
Despite it being in celebration of those gathering for the tournament, you almost never saw any tennis players.
They were busy preparing to win a Grand Slam (except those with bad luck premonitions and arrogance).
It was more to please and entertain the wealthy.
I had been a few times, but Jeremiah and I went once together before we eloped, never again after.
“Again, in a relationship,” I repeated, my voice sturdier.
“Fine, you have a boyfriend. If you like him so much, then bring him. Come this weekend.” It sounded like a dare.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“And what is that?” he asked, beckoning me.
“I’m not dragging Kieran to Mansfield just to prove something to you.”
“Who said anything about proof?”
He kissed me on the forehead, just like he did after every match. He’d jump into the stands, sweaty and elated. “I’ll see you in Mansfield. And if I don’t, well, then I’ll know your boyfriend isn’t as committed as you assumed.”
Before the divorce, my father used to say Jeremiah should have been a lawyer because he was so convincing.
He was right. Jeremiah’s ability to persuade and charm was exactly how I ended up in a car with Cecilia and Deidra, playing our tenth round of Uno, driving through the countryside the next morning.
Despite the game, neither of them wanted to talk about anything other than—
“I can’t believe he showed up last night and cornered you,” Deidra repeated.
Cecilia added, “That lying, conniving, useless excuse of a—”
“Thank you both for your incessant input. Seeing as we’ll be there soon, I don’t think there’s any point in harping on it,” I also added.
“We could easily turn the car around,” Deidra reminded me.
“Or drive up to the building, throw something at him like spiteful moviegoers, and then leave,” Cecilia followed up.
“You guys are making this worse.”
“I think you did that yourself,” Deidra pointed out.
“I—”
My phone buzzed on the seat beside me. Dad. Almost forgot about our Saturday call.
“Hey, Dad,” I answered, grateful for the interruption.
“Hey, sweetheart, what are you up to?” His voice was as warm as apple pie.
“Just about to head to practice—”
“She’s lying!”
“Cecilia!” I hissed, pressing the phone to my shoulder.
“She’s seeing Jeremiah!” she continued, leaving Deidra to her chuckles.
“Did she just say Jeremiah?” he asked, his voice solidifying.
“Yes, Mr. Aldridge!”
“Cecilia!” I whacked her, my Uno cards bending in half.
“Luna Aldridge,” he demanded. “What is this about?”
I massaged the center of my forehead. “I’m going to an event for the night, and Jeremiah will be there.”
“Invited her!” Cecilia corrected.
“You can leave now,” I told her. “The grass should be soft enough to land on.” She sat back, satisfied.
“You’re spending the day with Jeremiah?” he asked, baffled.
“I’m not going to spend the day with him. We’ll just be in the same building.”
“That’s just as bad.”
“There’s a million people here, and I’m coming with Kieran, so I most likely won’t even see him.”
My father did not care.
“What were you thinking?!” he bellowed.
What was I thinking? Bringing my fake lover to the same place as my previous lover, while also trying to keep them apart so nothing exploded in my face.
“It’s one night, Dad. It’ll be good. I should be able to meet reps from new brands who are looking to sponsor athletes too.” I attempted to appease his business side.
Didn’t work.
“What does the actor think about this?” he asked.
I thought Kieran was going to crack one of his molars when I told him about my change of plans later that night. But he said nothing, only remained silent and distant, his hand nowhere near my dress. It was a sharp turn from our closeness in last night’s photos.
Only a few of the photographs caught a glimpse of my side profile as he stood in front of me on the red carpet.
His large shoulders shielded my face as he whispered in my ear.
I hadn’t even known his hand was engulfing my waist until I saw the photo of it.
I was so focused on how his warm breath consumed my—
“He’s not exactly happy about the new plan,” I responded.
“I was referring to the excuse of a man being there.”
“Well, about that, I don’t think he knows about Jeremiah. I’m not sure he knows about the divorce at all…”
“Oh, Luna,” he sighed. “What are you getting yourself into?”
“I just want to play tennis and have everyone leave me alone.”
He sighed. “I know, sweetheart. If that’s what you want, then you can always go back home. Forget about the rankings and the tournaments and play at the Newport court. But if you want to be the best of the best, then we have to deal with optics. How is the last sponsor holding up?”
I looked to Deidra for that answer.
She leaned in. “Charles Elizabeth is really happy with how the relationship looks and the attention it’s getting their jewelry. The photo that Rumors Unlocked published last night has three million impressions.”
Cecilia added, “People are so consumed by Kieran’s interactions with you and Eliza Whitfield that they’re writing blogs on the Return of the Love Triangle.”
“‘Return of the Love Triangle’? The love triangle never went away,” Dad muttered, obviously offended for the romance genre. “But I’m happy the sponsor is staying on, then. It’s your first season back, of course there are going to be bumps, but do your best to avoid the drama.”
“The drama is following me!”
“If you had let me talk to your airhead of an ex-husband, he wouldn’t be following you in the first place!”
“As much as I appreciate that, I’m a grown adult capable of handling things.”
“Says the twenty-six-year-old who called to ask why her headlights weren’t working when it was because they weren’t switched to automatic.”
“Cars aren’t my topic of interest, and I’ve never said otherwise. I think that makes me self-aware.”
I could hear his head shake. “I mean it, Luna, don’t get involved.”
“I won’t, especially not so close to Wimbledon. This trip should help by cementing this fake relationship anyway. You don’t need to worry.”
“I do, though, you’re my fixer. Any time your mother or I was upset when you were a kid, you’d bake us sugar cookies or write us a letter in pink ink outlining your love or drag us down to the beach with a blanket in your little hand.
You wanted to help somehow. Soften things.
I need you to understand that this relationship with Jeremiah, it’s not something you fix. None of it is repairable.”
The air in the car was heavy and dense. My thumb left a dent in my stack of cards and my head pounded with Jeremiah’s name, Jeremiah’s face, Jeremiah’s laugh as we cleaned the kitchen after cooking a terrible dinner together, Jeremiah’s comforting arm that rested against mine in the car, Jeremiah’s voice as he told me I was too sensitive.
Dad was right.
And yet… I was here.
“I know. I have to go, we just pulled up. I love you,” I told him.
“I love you,” and he hung up.
We pulled up behind a strip of cars that lined the front of the Mansfield Mansion. Drivers opened doors one by one.
The home hadn’t changed since I had last entered it.
The same sandstone bricks held the structure up, punctured by windows every few feet.
The sides of the estate were flanked by dense, green trees that hid the full width of the home.
It was all so grand, especially with the way the green hill framed the bottom of the house. A trophy held up by its stand.
The shiny car in front of us moved forward. I watched as its passenger stepped out and followed other guests, walking up the long set of brick steps that intercepted the peaceful grass of the green hill.
I exhaled, opening the car door before the driver could come around.
My heel crunched atop the gravel. The house observed me like a crow who’s had my face memorized for a century. Without the shield of the car window, its stare weighed heavily. The warm wind caught my hair, pulling it in the opposite direction.
Mom would have said that was a bad omen, that I should turn, get back in the car, and send flowers. I should definitely not move toward the first step, holding the fabric of my skirt as—
My heel slipped against the gravel, sliding behind me. My vision of the house disappeared, and the ground quickly filled my view, coming closer and closer and—
A protective hand latched around my torso, another gripping my arm, swiftly pulling me back up. With my feet grounded and my body pulled against another’s, I twisted.
“Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Kieran muttered, his words coming from only a few inches above my head. Too close. His breath smelled minty, similar to the peppermint chocolates I bought for my kitchen centerpieces around Christmas. Not too sweet, but just enough.
He sounded out of breath.
No, he didn’t sound out of breath, he was out of breath.
His chest thrummed against mine from the rapid beat of his heart, and his hands were strong against my skin.
His skin was golden from the sun. Behind him, the sun’s rays beamed off a black convertible, its driver-side door left open. Did he drive that here?
Wait.
His hair.
Suddenly, I was met with this real-life, chilling, devastating, humiliating nightmare of my heart opposing its rule to never act this way around Kieran Alexander.
It was doing that little jump it usually did when a gift was wrapped in a crimson red ribbon or when I saw French toast on a menu or when the rain tapped against my bedroom window at night, blurring the streetlights.
I—it wasn’t supposed to do that here, around him. This wasn’t just humiliating, it was mortifying.
All—all he did was dye his hair!
It must be the house or someone’s evil ancestor. They were haunting me. Torturing me for lacking the confidence to tell Jeremiah off.
I was paralyzed by this intergalactic anomaly. I pressed my eyes shut for a moment. Maybe the dizziness had made me colorblind?
But when I opened them, his hair was still no longer blond. His blue eyes were brought alive by his, now, dark waves. It was so dark that I wondered if it was black. It added attractive valleys to his cheeks and depth to his eyes, with pieces curling at the nape of his neck and above his ears.
My mouth fell open, and I was no longer responsible for the words that came out, including—