5. Natalie
CHAPTER FIVE
NATALIE
The smell of fresh-brewed coffee woke Natalie. Eyes open, she stayed rooted in her spot on the right side of his bed, listening for movement. Beside her, his body had left a dip in the mattress. She pressed her palm into it. Cool. He’d been up for a while.
Her mind activated recap mode: Pub. Club.
Kiss. Sex. Bed. Key points that nowhere near encompassed the depth of their night.
The laughter. Sincerity. Honesty. His words about settling down with someone special and living boldly within that love held her thoughts until she’d drifted off.
Now, as sunlight filtered through the slats of his wooden window blinds, they lingered still.
She sat up, immediately spotting a burnt orange hoodie folded neatly at the foot of the bed. One of Kate’s many life observations sprang to mind.
When a man offers you an article of his clothing, he’s looking to lock it down. Make you his woman. It’s like the opposite of Dobby in Harry Potter.
Natalie unfolded the garment, discovering the iconic Texas Longhorns logo on the front.
She pulled it over her head. It smelled of lavender and lemon, and all but swallowed her five-foot-six frame.
As she rolled the cuffs back, she laughed.
Pop would disown me if he knew I was wearing this.
Speaking of, I can’t forget to call him later. Where the heck is my phone?
She’d barely registered these thoughts when she spied her phone on the bedside table, resting quietly on a charging station.
Her gaze then fell on her clothes, folded as neatly as the hoodie had been and stacked on an oversized chair in the corner, along with her purse.
No sign of her boots though. Her heart melted like their uneaten pints of ice cream, still on the tray on his side of the bed.
Wow. In our two years together, I never saw Roman fold a single item of his own, let alone mine.
My God, this man is …
A text from Kate interrupted her thoughts.
Kate: Wellness check! You haven’t moved location. If you’re alive, please check in.
Natalie snapped a selfie, complete with the Hook ‘Em, Horns hand sign.
Kate: If your father ever catches wind of this. Also, DOBBY!!!
Natalie: Lol same thought! On both counts! What are you doing up?
Kate: Had to let Roscoe out to pee. What time’s your flight?
Natalie: 5:30. Heading back to the hotel soon.
Kate: CALL ME! I want every sordid detail
Natalie: Duh!
In his bathroom, she found more touches of his thoughtfulness on display.
Clean towels. A fresh toothbrush and travel-size tube of toothpaste.
A small bottle of ibuprofen. A couple of pre-moistened make-up remover pads stamped with the British Airways logo.
After one look in the mirror, finding smears of mascara beneath each eye, Natalie reached for those first. While she brushed her teeth, she ran through a mental checklist.
Double-check flight status. Finish packing. Get passport and jewelry from my room safe. Text Emma and check on Little George.
There was one glaring omission. Say goodbye to Mr. Crown.
Barefoot and pant-less, Natalie moved through his apartment, snack tray in hand, silently rehearsing exit lines.
Thanks for a great night.
I had a wonderful time.
I’m glad it was you to end my sexual sabbatical.
If only we’d met earlier …
She found him in the kitchen, standing at the professional-grade cooktop with his back to her, softly humming that one Willie tune. For a few beats, she stood and watched him, dressed in the same robe as before and cooking up a Texas-size omelet.
“If you have a jalapeno pepper back there, I’ll have one of those with mine,” she said, repeating the first words she’d ever heard him speak.
He whipped around at the sound of her voice. “Hey. Good morning. Nice sweatshirt.”
His bright and cheerful tone matched his expression. Clearly, he had zero regrets about their slumber party.
“Good morning,” she said with equal cheer. “And thank you.”
“Coffee?”
She placed the tray on the counter near the sink. “As much as the law will allow.”
“Don’t bother with that. I’ll take care of it later. You can grab us a couple of plates though.” He pointed to an upper cabinet.
Natalie gathered items from the fully stocked kitchen—linen napkins, fancy cutlery, the works.
By the time he’d finished cooking, she’d set a beautiful table for two in the adjacent dining space.
When he offered to pop a bottle of champagne for mimosas, she said, “Sure! Why not!” Her final home-cooked meal in London; might as well make it special.
Twenty-four hours before, she’d have thought this outcome insane.
He gave a whistle when he saw the table. As he pulled out a chair for her, he said, “You really do work in hospitality, don’t you?”
“I really do.” She placed her hand on his. “And I’m sorry, but I have to get going right after this gorgeous breakfast. Thank you, by the way, for everything. I’ve had the loveliest time.”
“Me too.” He flipped his hand over and squeezed hers. “Not sure if you’re a fan of musicals, but a friend gave me two tickets to a West End show. I think it’s Thursday night—”
She cut him off. “I can’t do Thursday night.”
“That’s fine. What night works? I’ll get us tickets to any show you like.”
Ugh. The moment she’d been dreading. The moment she’d have to say goodbye to this man. This kind, caring, oh-you-could-get-under-my-skin-and-ruin-me man.
She smoothed the napkin on her lap. “Actually, I’m not free any night. I’m moving. Back to the US. Today.”
“Today?” he asked, eyes hooded in confusion. “You’re moving today?”
"I fly out this afternoon."
A sigh cut through the room. His disappointment had an almost physical presence.
Like it had flopped down in one of the chairs and propped its feet up on the table, with plans to stay awhile.
Natalie looked down and pushed her eggs around her plate for a moment.
She peeked back at him, noting his drawn mouth and the lines of contemplation spread wide across his forehead.
“You absolutely have to fly out today? Like, you’re firm on that?” he asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“So, asking you to stay one more night …”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Listen, if it’s a question of changing your ticket, I am more than happy to pay for a later flight.”
“It’s not that. I’m starting a new job. I’m meeting with the big boss in a couple of days—our first in-person face-to-face. I have a bajillion things to do as soon as I land.”
“A job in hospitality?”
She nodded. “My flat was packed up last week. I’ve been in a hotel finishing my last corporate event.”
Those forehead lines grew more pronounced as he slipped into deeper thoughts. After a moment, he said, “If I told you I have access to a private plane?”
A booming alarm sounded, one only she could hear, her thoughts and pulse racing against one another at breakneck speed.
You flew with Roman to Italy on a private plane once … and it’s taken years to recover from that one decision.
“As tempting and kind an offer as that is, I have to leave today.”
For the first time since meeting, an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Just the sounds of their silverware moving across their plates filled the air. Guilt landed a painful blow in the pit of her stomach. I should have told him I was moving right off the bat.
“This job’s pretty important to you then, huh?” he finally said.
“It is. It’s the kind of position that could catapult me to really big things. In fact, I’m banking on it because I’m launching my own company within the next year. I have a huge showcase planned with a lot of serious investors.”
Yes! Speak it into existence! You’re not hoping to, or looking to, or wishing to. It’s happening. You’re launching. Verb. Action word. Full stop.
He nodded, digesting this information. “Sounds like you’ve got it all mapped out.”
“I’ve worked hard. And I’m on a strict timeline. There’s nothing in the world I want more.”
Mr. Crown fell silent for a few ticks. The slump of his shoulders matched his somewhat distraught expression. Her departure, a bombshell he hadn’t expected. After a moment, he mustered a smile and raised his mimosa to her.
“Well then, a toast is absolutely in order. To you, Amelia. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you every success and hope all your dreams come true.”
The rest of breakfast consisted of surface level talk, like they’d reset to those first few moments at Eddie’s pub.
From red-hot lovers to casual acquaintances in two shakes of a sheep’s tail.
Like the iron chandelier suspended above the table, tension in the room seemed just as heavy.
When he caught her checking her watch, he shooed her back to the bedroom to dress while he cleaned up breakfast.
After making his bed and tidying up his bathroom, Natalie squeezed back into her jeans and pulled on her blouse– now a collection of wrinkles that screamed early morning walk-of-shame. She dropped down on all fours, searching beneath the chair and bed for her boots.
“Looking for these?” he called from the doorway, boots in hand.
Natalie stood. Her blouse hung open, revealing the lacy edge of her bralette. She took a couple of steps toward him and stopped, eyes widening with surprise.
“But how did you …” she began, her gaze centered on the once broken heel, now fully repaired.
“Let’s just say I know a guy.”
“You’ve got a 24-hour cobbler on speed-dial?”
He beamed, his first real smile since learning of her plans. “Somethin’ like that.”
She took the boots, inspecting the flawless repair. “Like it never even happened. This is magic. And next level thoughtfulness. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
He moved in half a step. Now their bodies were touching. His hand found bare skin beneath her open blouse.
"Stay with me,” he said, wearing a look that said, let’s jump back in that bed one more time.
“I can’t.”
“You can. I’ll move mountains to see that you get to your meeting on time. I just want a few more hours.”
As he moved a hand through the silky layers of her hair, her eyes fell closed, locking the moment in her memory. As much as she hated to say goodbye, their night would be just that—a crazy, wonderful memory.
"If I knew your name, I'd whisper it a thousand times, over and over until you couldn't stand it anymore. Let me have one more night with you. We'll go to dinner. We'll dance. We'll make love in every room. I want to fall asleep with you one more time."
He pressed his lips against her neck as his arms snaked around her waist. When he touched a certain spot near her ear, she let out a tiny moan.
“Is that a yes?” he whispered.
Hours earlier she might have said yes. Yes, I'll stay. Yes, we’ll get crazy in the kitchen. In the bathroom. On the pool table. But it was now time to give back the glass slipper and return to her orderly, planned out life.
Natalie pulled back and looked into his eyes. Eyes filled with longing and hope. Two years before, in the days before his inaugural race, Roman’s eyes had held a similar look.
“In another place in time, it would be a yes.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s exactly why I’m trying hard to convince you.”
“I like you. I mean it. But I’ve been burned, too.
I made a huge sacrifice for someone once, one that tanked me professionally—to the point where I had to close my business.
And all he could do was laugh it off. Now I’m not saying you’re anything like him.
You’re not. But this time, I’m choosing me. ”
Roman’s dismissal of her business failure had shattered her like a brick through a window.
He’d literally laughed when devastating Google reviews poured in.
Her dream of making Blaze a top London firm shriveled and died with one poor decision, and Roman shrugged it off as though she’d simply chipped a nail.
A cautionary tale that tattooed itself to her core.
“This job is a second chance to chase my dream,” she added. “And true second chances don’t happen very often.”
“I understand.”
With a respectful nod, Mr. Crown dropped his arms, releasing her from his grip. Natalie sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled on her boots, emotions and convictions playing tug-o-war.
Yes, he’s amazing. Part magician, part Texas cowboy, all wrapped up in an air of Wall Street finery. But you’re one hundred percent making the right choice here.
Mr. Crown ducked into the bathroom for a couple of minutes and returned fully dressed in jeans, a plain gray sweater, and a pair of running shoes. A UT baseball cap hid his bedhead. He held the Longhorns sweatshirt she’d dropped in his laundry basket.
“A little something to remember me by. It can get pretty cold on those planes,” he said, tying it around her shoulders.
“You really don’t—” she began.
“I want you to have it.”
A shy smile raised one corner of her mouth. “Thank you.”
He adjusted the sweatshirt. “Your jacket’s hanging up in the front closet. Grab it while I grab my keys and we’ll go.”
Natalie touched his arm. “That’s another kind offer, but it’s better if I find my own way back.”
He shook his head and said emphatically, “You know what’ll happen if I don’t personally escort you back to your hotel? I’ll have my southern gentleman card revoked.”
She laughed. “I think you’ve sealed your membership for multiple lifetimes.”
Hand-in-hand, they walked to the elevator. He retrieved her coat from the closet, then turned to her, his blue eyes rimmed with a hopeful look once more.
"May I call you at your hotel? Just to say goodbye?"
Natalie hesitated but decided one little phone call couldn't hurt.
As long as you don’t give him your cell phone number.
"I'm at The Wagner, room 210."
He took hold of her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "So, this is it? You're gonna live up to your name and fly right out of my life? Just like that, Ms. Earhart?"
Yes, I am, because the London chapter of my life is now closed.
“Thank you for one of the best nights of my life.” She touched his cheek.
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, then pulled her in for a real one. Natalie’s purse and jacket fell to the floor, as did his baseball cap. Their final kiss—all tongue and hands and emotion. A kiss that said stay. But her resolve held.
After everything that had happened with Blaze and Roman, she'd made a solemn vow: never again.