Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
It’s Friday. It’s been five days since I sent Art a message and I have yet to hear anything from him. No matter what, I’ve told myself that if I don’t hear from him by tonight, I’ll ring him. My patience is running out.
“All right, ma’am, spill the tea. What are you afraid to ask me?” Bruce says. He’s temporarily been returned to duty as my protection officer.
I turn my gaze away from the passing scenery of London. We’re blessedly alone since it’s such a short trip from the flat to the stables. Angela is still hardly speaking to me unless its business related. “Er, what makes you think I have a burning question to ask?”
“Call it my sixth sense.”
There is no hiding anything from Bruce. There is something that’s been on my mind. “How long do internal investigations within your department normally take to complete?”
The car slows and he stops at a red light. A few pedestrians cross, carrying oversized shopping bags with souvenirs from one of the palace’s many gift shops.
“It depends. If it’s something that’s straightforward, three or maybe four weeks. If it involves a person and a job performance evaluation, the inquiry may take a few months before a decision is reached.”
“That long?” My heart drops.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Why isn’t he checking his darn email?” I mutter to myself.
The light changes and the car begins moving again. “Did you say something about email?”
“That was off the record.” I’m angry with myself for being careless with my tongue. I don’t want anyone except Amanda to know I’ve been trying to get in contact with Art.
“Ma’am, for what it’s worth, I’m always on your side. What I was going to say is that if Arthur is the person you sent the email to, he’s always been hopeless with checking it. If you want to get through to him, a call, text, or in-person visit is best.”
“I’d give anything to see him in person, but that’s highly unlikely to happen. I’ll have to ring him.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Bruce’s voice is smug.
That’s when I finally notice that we’re headed in the opposite direction of the palace stables. We’ve traveled to the far end of Whitehall behind Horse Guard’s Parade. The street narrows considerably. Bruce makes a turn, and we slip into an underground car park.
My pulse quickens. “Um, Bruce, where exactly are we?”
“Great Scotland Yard.” He cuts the engine and turns around. “Arthur normally works out of the stables here or at the Bow Street station. I’m taking a gamble, but I think it’s more likely he’ll be here today.”
“You’ve brought me to see him?” I sputter.
“Yes. I can’t stand to see the pair of you so gutted and miserable. It’s high time you two hurried it along and reconnected.”
“But what if somebody sees us? I can’t have you risking your neck for us too. We’re already in enough trouble.”
“I don’t care about me, I’m on my way to being semi-retired anyway.” Bruce brushes me off and directs us to a lift fifteen meters away. “I care about you two. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the bond you and Arthur have developed is special. I want to see you both happy.”
Many questions are racing through my head about Bruce. About Arthur. About what I’m going to say to the man I’ve been dreaming about seeing again.
The lift dings and we arrive on the ground floor.
As the doors open, I immediately smell hay, mud, and horses.
We pass several rubbish bins, oversized bales of hay, and a forklift.
Like a duckling following her mother, I trail Bruce as he leads me up a ramp past a stable block containing about twenty stalls.
A bay and a dapple horse have stuck their heads out of their stalls, watching us curiously as we walk past.
“How many horses are kept in here?”
“There’s room for nineteen Met Police horses and two City of London ones. Greater Scotland Yard happens to be the largest stable in this area. Bow Street has room for about twelve horses.”
As we reach the last stall, I see the door is wide open. The lead of a dappled gray is clipped to a post. A man is inside the stall with his back turned to us, mucking it out as the horse munches on some hay. He’s in black riding trousers and a black top. My pulse begins to pick up.
“Arthur,” Bruce calls.
“Dad? What are you doing here?” He pivots around and drops the broom. It falls to the ground with a clatter.
Dad? Bruce is Arthur’s father? I blink a few times in shock. My eyes dart between the two men. All the signs have been there. There share a similar height and hair color, but physically, Art seems to have taken more after his mum than Bruce.
“I brought the princess to see you. It’s high time you two worked things out. If you need me, I’ll just be down here, feeding Yoda a couple treats.” He whistles the Star Wars theme as he heads to the opposite end of the hall.
For several long moments, we stare at one another, still not believing we’re both here.
Our chests rise and fall. It’s only when the dapple horse stomps his hoof that the spell is broken, and we rush toward one another in a fierce embrace.
Our lips meet, and time around us seems to stop.
It’s as if we’ve both been wandering aimlessly through the Sahara Desert, and just in the nick of time, we’ve encountered an oasis.
Art’s arms wrap around the small of my back and pull me in so I’m tight against his chest. The fabric of his shirt is coarse against my cheeks. It smells as if he’s recently laundered it. It’s a fresh, crisp scent.
I’ve missed these full, silky lips, the laugh lines around his mouth, and being held by his strong arms. I never want to let go. We continue to drink greedily from each other as if we’ll never reach our fill.
When we do finally break apart for air, I tilt my head up and manage a quiet, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replies, continuing to hold me close, stroking the side of my face lightly with his thumbs.
My throat constricts. “Art, I’m so, so, so sorry.”
“Ali, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Yes, I do,” I emphasize. “This mess we’re in is all my fault.”
“No, it’s really not, it’s all my fault. I should’ve been the one who realized something was amiss at Locked in London. I failed you when I didn’t catch the bloke who was taking our photos.” His tone is stoic and his body stiff.
“Art, you couldn’t have known. The bloke at the escape room was sneaky.”
“That may be true, but the point is, I was distracted. This is exactly why the no-relationship rule is there. To protect you from situations exactly like this. What if—”
I take my hand and place it over his lips. “No. We’re not playing the what-if game. There are too many unknown factors at play here. If you really want to take a part of the blame, we’ll split it down the middle.”
He blinks slowly. “I don’t know.”
“Art, please. For me.”
He studies me for several long moments, then sighs deeply. “As you wish.”
“Thank you.” I pick up his hand and run my fingers over each and every one of the rough calluses on it.
It feels so good to be able to be so near to him again.
My body is growing increasingly warm the longer I stand here.
“Now enough of the blame game.” I bury my head in his chest. “I’ve missed you so much. ”
“Me too, Ali. Me too.” I listen to him breathe deeply. “Not seeing you has been the hardest two weeks of my life. It’s taken everything in me not to take one of these horses and charge the gates of the palace, demanding to see you.”
I lift my chin and meet his eyes. The flecks of gold are glowing. “Why didn’t you? I’ve been waiting for so long to hear from you! Why didn’t you email me?”
“I did.” He releases me and glances away. “When I didn’t receive any response from you, I figured there had to be a valid reason you’d dropped me, and so I’ve been waiting.”
“I haven’t had proper access to my account.
” I groan. “My old smartphone was stolen, and the security office was worried everything connected to the old phone and number could be compromised. Everybody in my family has had to get new mobile numbers because of me.” I take a moment to bring him up to speed on my failed attempt to see him after he was pulled from my detail.
“I can’t believe you risked your safety like that! What were you thinking?” He crosses his arms.
“I wasn’t. I just needed to see you. At the time, it seemed like a brilliant idea.
I know now how foolish it was.” I’ve had ample time to relive everything over and over again in my head.
My life isn’t a Hallmark or Disney movie.
I have an understanding of the realness of the threats that are out there now.
“I want to stay angry with you, but I can’t.” He sighs. “I’ll only admit this to you, but I happen to find this royal rebel streak to be incredibly attractive. I can’t imagine another woman who would throw caution to the wind like you did to go after me.”
I grin. “For now, I think my days of being a royal rebel are over, unless you’re by my side.”
“I respect that.” Art flexes his muscles. The dapple horse neighs in agreement, causing us to laugh.
“I can’t believe you’ve been reassigned to the mounted police force. I would’ve come searching for you sooner if I’d have known.”
His cheeks color. “It doesn’t compare to seeing you on a daily basis, but for the time being, this is the next best thing.
I’d forgotten how much I miss working with horses like Quixote.
” He bends over to retrieve the rake and balances it against the door.
“Being here again has gotten me thinking about the future lately.”
“Uh-huh.” I tense.
“What are your thoughts if I decided not to return to your security team, and instead, asked to stay attached to the mounted unit?”
My mouth opens and closes. I’d miss seeing him, but if that’s what he wants after putting up with this media circus, I respect his choice. “Would it make you happy?”
“Yeah, it would. Do you know why?”
I shake my head.