Chapter 11
Marina
I wake up at two am with a pounding headache in a bed that’s not mine. I squint, even though it’s completely black in this room. Slowly, painfully, it all comes back. The incessant media reports. The paparazzi outside our apartment. The margaritas. Zach coming to rescue us all. My mouth feels like someone scrubbed it out with sandpaper, and I slowly sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. When the room stops rocking, I feel around on the nightstand for a lamp and cover my eyes with one hand before turning it on. With the speed of a sloth on sedatives, I uncover them and ease the light back into my aching eyes.
I get up and slowly walk to the bathroom, cursing Ashley’s margaritas the entire way. Merry, bless her heart, put all my bathroom stuff in here already. I brush my teeth and wash my face, using the softest towel in the world to dry my skin. I don’t even want to know how much this is costing Zach. I can’t think about it right now. I’m just going to let this be another lesson in focusing on gratitude.
I’m thankful for my friends. I’m thankful for this room. I’m thankful for Zach. I’m thankful for Zach’s strong arms and the fact that every time I’m wrapped in them, all my problems seem to disappear. I’m grateful for his lips and… whoa . Slow down on the Zach parade, Marina. I pad back into the bedroom then venture out into the living space. I was too out of it to really look at it last night, but this room is huge. Elaborately decorated in shades of cream and light rose, it’s elegant without being ostentatious. When Zach offered to put me up at a hotel, I wasn’t expecting a suite in the most expensive hotel in the city, but this just shows how different our lives are.
There’s a small dining room off to the side, and the beautiful mahogany table is set with an array of snacks and drinks. I look around and almost squeal when I see crackers. They always settle my stomach when I’m queasy. I grab a small plate and put a handful of crackers on it, then grab a bottle of water and pad back to the bedroom. I set the plate and water down, then root around in my bag for the bottle of over-the-counter painkillers I always carry. I pop three into my palm, chase them down with the water, and then climb back into bed.
I need to try to get more sleep, but I can’t keep my mind from worrying about work. There is just absolutely no way I’m not getting fired for this. The story is everywhere, and there’s no way the Evil Queen missed it. She isn’t a forgiving person, and even if she was…I’m nothing to her. It’s not like I’m a partner at the firm or anyone she considers truly valuable. She will kick me to the curb with the fury of David Beckham in 1997.
Briefly, I think about going in this afternoon and getting my stuff. It’s Saturday. No one will be around, but I don’t have the energy to face it. I swipe open my phone and check her calendar for Monday. She has a meeting at 9 am, so I’ll just show up at 8 am like normal and pack up my desk. Worst case scenario, I’ll get yelled at for less than an hour. She is never late for anything, so she’ll have to throw me out beforehand. I’ll just spend the rest of the weekend hiding away here. Maybe one of the girls will pick up some new books for me from the library.
I grab a cracker and turn off the light. I let the darkness wash over me as I try to calm my racing thoughts. I’ve fought hard to ensure there is no more drama in my life, and yet this week has been full of it. I used to be the one causing the drama, but I learned long ago that I want a peaceful life. Not a boring one, just relatively free of daily angst and worry. Perhaps I’ve been so focused on that I’ve forgotten to actually live a life. I can feel something changing in me. There is a noticeable shift in what’s important. It’s totally like me to grab the proverbial scissors and cut the subject of the drama right out of my life - yet when I intrinsically thought about cutting Zach out, every fiber of my being screamed in resistance. For the first time in a long time, my instincts are at war with each other.
There is something in his spirit that calls to mine. I can’t explain it, and I can’t define it - but whenever we’re together, I just want more. My self-preservation instincts are still screaming at me to run, but I’m rooted to this spot by something stronger. Something in my core that tells me I don’t need to run. Not from him. And that scares me most of all.
I chew on my cracker and take a deep, cleansing breath. I’ve been feeling a lot of fear lately. Fear of the mermaid story going viral, of being fired, of catching feelings for Zach, of not being able to afford to live on my own. When I was a lost, scared kid, I ran from my fear, and that took me to a thousand places I didn’t want to be. I learned the hard way that I needed to face it and fight, and my whole life turned around when I learned to be brave.
I pop another cracker in my mouth and brush off my fingers. Whatever happens, I know I have what it takes to handle it. And I have a support system that will back me up. That’s what I need to focus on, not the fear. So, I will walk into Taft & Kennedy on Monday morning with my head held high. I will pack my belongings and leave, knowing it’s their loss. And I will have faith in myself to figure out the rest of this. I have the remainder of the weekend to get my head together, so that’s just what I’ll do. I burrow down under the covers and remind myself as my head hits the pillow…fear is a lie.
***
The sound of my cell phone vibrating on the nightstand rouses me from my fretful sleep, and I roll over with a grumble, fumbling for the switch on the lamp. Light splinters through my cracked eyelids, making me hiss. Slowly, I open my eyes and swipe open my phone. 10:30 am. I groan as I stand, my head throbbing. I pad across the room to the bathroom and flick on the light. The bathroom is nearly the size of my whole apartment.
Good Lord.
I turn the shower on and search the room for my bag, then grab a pair of yoga pants and a clean t-shirt and throw them on the bed. I brush my teeth before stripping and step under the hot spray, letting the absolutely perfect water pressure rinse away my stress.
This shower is life-changing. Rich people get all the good stuff. The shower in our tiny apartment definitely can’t hold a candle to this.
When I’m done, I dry off, get dressed, and head out to the living room to see if Merry’s still here. Just as I’m thinking she’s probably already left for Nonno’s, I hear her voice…and she’s not alone. Zach is here. I spend about three seconds considering whether I should check my face and immediately shut it down. I’m in crisis mode, and if he can’t handle me in crisis mode, then he doesn’t deserve space in my life. I made that decision long ago. I’m not changing for anyone.
I swing open my bedroom door and walk barefoot across the plush carpet, following the sound of their voices.
“No, I can’t do that, Zach,” Merry says emphatically, a touch of humor in her voice. “Not gonna happen.”
“C’mon.”
“Nope. It’s top secret.”
“It would be so great to have when I’m on the road,” he insists. “Please?”
I walk into the dining room just as Merry folds her arms across her chest. Zach has his back to the door and can’t see me.
“I am not giving you Nonno’s sauce recipe. No way.”
Merry looks up at me over Zach’s shoulder and rolls her eyes.
“Your boyfriend doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, does he?”
Zach whirls around, a look of deep concern on his face, and bolts from his chair. I’m in his arms a split second later, and I don’t even try to resist. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his broad chest. His strong, steady heartbeat reverberates in my ear. Safety. He reaches up a hand and strokes my hair.
“How are you feeling? Are you okay?”
I don’t answer right away. I just stand here…wrapped in Zach’s arms…inhaling that gorgeous scent of his. It’s better than anything you could ever buy. Forget healing creams or vapor rubs. The relief for all that ails is Zach. Finally, I pull away enough to look up at Zach and over at Merry.
“As okay as I can be, I think.”
Zach gently ushers me over to a chair, and only then do I see a huge brunch spread on a large catering cart that’s been wheeled in. My eyes go wide, prompting Zach to step over and grab a plate.
“What’s your pleasure, Siren?” he asks, ready to dish up whatever I want. “We have just about every breakfast or brunch item known to man.”
I don’t even have to think about it .
“All the bacon.”
He raises his eyebrows, and the corner of his mouth twitches up. “All of it?”
I nod. “Bring it.”
Merry snickers as Zach serves up a plate full of bacon and sets it down in front of me. I stare at it blankly and nod.
“Thank you.”
“Well, you’re semi-coherent, and you have an appetite,” Merry declares. “I’m gonna head off to Nonno’s before he panics. I’m usually there by now.”
She gets up without ceremony and gives me a squeeze before high-fiving Zach on her way out.
“Thanks, Merry,” I call after her.
“Love you!”
I pick up a piece of bacon and look up at Zach with a resigned expression, biting into the perfectly crispy strip and sighing heavily. He looks…sorry.
“So what are you doing today?” I ask between bites.
He picks up his fork and continues eating the French toast on his plate.
“Whatever you want to do.”
I lower my bacon and regard him curiously.
“Do you think I’m going to leave you on your own all weekend when I know you’re just going to hide away here and overthink it all?”
I try to smile back at him, but I’m not sure how successful I am.
“I forgot you were a chivalrous Brit.”
He grins. “Your wish is my command, Siren. What quests would you have me do?”
I laugh softly. “I can’t think of anything. Unless you want to go to the library for me and see if they have anything new. I’m almost done with what I have. Danielle would let you check stuff out on my card. ”
He takes another bite and pulls out his phone. “What titles would you like? Or do you want me to choose?”
I study him carefully for a moment. I have trouble thinking of what kind of fiction he’d like.
“I just started a fantasy series called ‘A Throne of Crystal and Stone’,” I explain. “I’ll probably finish the first book tonight, but I’d love to have the next one in my hand already. I can’t put it down.”
“I love books like that. What’s it about?”
“A young woman, thrown into a world of faeries and magic, surviving and falling in love,” I explain. “Probably not your thing.”
“I love fantasy books!”
I nearly drop my second piece of bacon. Or is this my third? I’ve lost track.
“You do?”
He nods. “Have you read ‘Heart of Ash’?”
I bounce in my chair. “Yes! I love that series so much!!”
He points his fork at me. “Let me guess. Randyn, King of the High Fae, is your favorite book boyfriend ever.”
I throw the bite-sized piece of bacon in my hand at him, and he bats it away with a loud laugh, then bends over to pick it up off the carpet. I don’t even try to hide the laugh that bubbles out of me.
“I knew it,” he declares with a cocky glint in his eye.
“I can’t help it if you’re jealous,” I tease lightly. “He’s so perfect.”
Zach clutches a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Siren.”
I grin and offer him the plate of bacon. He holds his hands up.
“That’s the best non-verbal apology I’ve ever received,” he says. “But I don’t want to get between an American and her bacon.”
I grab another piece and put the plate down as he shakes his head.
“Two things I don’t understand about Americans: your weird idea of bacon and your obsession with ice cubes.”
I give him a mock warning look .
“Now you’ve done it. You don’t like ice? We can’t be friends.”
He looks at me with a glint in his eye, then feigns shock.
“I love ice. I put it in everything . Even my cup of tea. I adore ice.”
I hold up a hand. “Calm down. I’d never ask you to change for me. You can keep on being an ice hater.”
He laughs softly and pushes his plate aside.
“Okay, so the next book in the ‘Throne of Crystal and Stone’ series…what else can I bring you?”
I tilt my head and think for a moment. “I really can’t think of anything else. I only need to get through today and tomorrow. That should do it.”
He stands up and puts his napkin on the table, then steps to my side and plants a kiss atop my head. I fight the urge to reach out and grab him around the waist.
“Very well,” he says quietly. “I’ll be back in an hour or two, love. You just sit there, eat bacon, and look beautiful.”
He gives me a kiss that’s too quick and too fleeting, then turns and heads for the door. I laugh softly and watch him go, wondering the entire time whether he’s truly real or some figment of my imagination.
***
Zach
“It looks like you picked up more than just a library book,” Marina says incredulously as she steps back and lets me whisk past carrying two armloads of shopping bags.
I may have gotten a little carried away. Not that I really care. She deserves things to make her smile, and I feel like I have at least half a dozen smiles in these bags.
“One book didn’t seem like enough for a whole weekend,” I say lightly as she follows me to the living room. “I didn’t want you to get bored.”
I sit, and she sits. She looks at me as if she’s not sure whether she’ll want to hug me or throttle me when we’re done going through all the bags.
“Did you even go to the library?”
“No, but I did go to Barnes & Noble,” I reply, pulling out the large bag.
Her eyes light up, and I feel a disgusting amount of triumph at the level of joy she’s trying to hide.
“Zach…”
“Marina…” I parrot. “I started thinking about how I feel when I read a great series. I want to keep certain books so I can re-read them, so I just bought you the next book instead of borrowing it from the library.”
She smiles, and my heart skips a beat. Her eyes dart to the bag.
“There’s more than one book in that bag.”
I nod. “Yeah, well, why would I buy you the second book when you probably don’t own the first either? If you also got it from the library, that is. So I went back to get the first book and ended up buying the whole series instead.”
I place the bag in her lap as her surprised gaze flicks from me to the bag and back again. She reaches in and takes out the five-book series, reverently looking over each volume, and then she does something that cements her in my heart forever.
She smells them .
Something in my expression makes her give me a quick, shy grin and put them back in the bag. Then she spots the bookmark and pulls it out, running her fingers over it. No explanation necessary for the iridescent mermaid bookmark I couldn’t resist. She holds it up so I can see it.
“Thank you.”
I nod. “I love that you smell books.”
“I always do that,” she explains. “I love books.”
“Me too.”
“And I love bookmarks…this is gorgeous.”
I lean over and plant a soft, lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth.
“A gorgeous mermaid for a gorgeous mermaid.”
She shakes her head, and I decide I’m not going to argue with her about her beauty today. Instead, I reach into the next bag from a little gift shop just down the street from the bookstore and hand her the luxuriously soft blanket I picked up. She takes it from me and runs her fingers over it.
“I couldn’t resist when I saw it in the window,” I explain, pointing to the design that looks like mermaid scales. “It’s perfect for curling up with a book.”
She nods. “It really is. Thank you so much.”
I point to three bags from the grocery store. “Hangover cures in those bags.”
Her eyes go wide. “Wow.”
I pull up the final bag from the local drug store and hand it to her.
“And finally, happy memories and snacks.”
She looks in the bag, and her face slackens as she pulls out the giant bag of red licorice I bought her. Her eyes glisten a little when she looks up at me.
“You remembered.”
I nod.
She puts it down, stands up, and wordlessly steps over and sits in my lap. I pull her against me immediately, looking up into those emerald green pools as I brush a stray strand of her hair back. She puts her hands on either side of my face.
“You are the most thoughtful man I’ve ever known,” she says quietly .
I rub our noses together and press my forehead to hers.
“You deserve every good thing.”
I kiss one corner of her mouth, then the other, and then our mouths just come together like two magnets. Her kiss is so full of emotion it fills me with hope. And longing. She slides her hands into my hair, and I hear a growl escape my throat. I wrap my arms tighter around her waist and squeeze her possessively.
Mine .
She’s soft and pliant in my arms as we explore each other slowly, passionately. When she pulls back slightly, I’m not even sure what my name is. She’s kissed me senseless. What a way to go.
She reaches up a hand and combs her fingers through my hair. The warmth and affection in her eyes catch my breath in my throat. My chest tightens.
“You were not in my plan,” she whispers cryptically.
“You weren’t in my plan either, gorgeous, but here we are.”
She laughs softly and cradles her head on my shoulder, snuggling closer, and I think it’s quite possible we just found the perfect way to spend our afternoon.
***
Marina
Sunday afternoon, Zach holds his hand out wordlessly, and I pull another piece of licorice from the bag on the couch and hand it to him. He smiles with the joy of a ten-year-old and takes a huge bite, prompting a laugh from me.
“I’ve created a monster,” I say, giving him a mock shove.
We’re cozied up on the couch in my suite, sharing the mermaid blanket, as I read my book, and he monitors social media chatter on the mermaid story. I have my feet propped in his lap, and he rests his forearms on my shins as he scrolls. We’ve easily slipped into a peaceful existence with each other while I hide away from the world this weekend. It doesn’t feel weird or too much, it’s just…nice to be together. But it also doesn’t feel real.
The girls have been checking in on me via our group chat here and there, but they’ve been suspiciously too busy to visit. They’re more than content to let Zach look after me while I bide my time until Monday morning. When it’s time to face the music. My stomach lurches at the mere thought of facing Ms. Taft and all her ire. She’ll make a show of it.
I haven’t turned on the television or looked at social media, but I can tell the story is still trending. Possibly even more viral than before, given the scowl on Zach’s face earlier. I haven’t asked because it won’t matter. It was already bad enough for me to be fired. Who cares how much it blows up now? The result will be the same: my name out in public and me looking for a job. For now, I’m content to cocoon myself away with Zach—although I probably should have faked an illness and kept him away. It has been far too easy to sink into a routine that feels very domestic. Intimate, even. We fit so easily together until you consider the fact that he’s the world’s biggest rock star and travels the world, performing to thousands, and I’m an unknown executive assistant trying to fight my way into law school without a penny to my name. We may fit as individual people, but the worlds we exist in do not mesh at all.
Zach has pampered me to no end this weekend, and I can feel myself getting more and more attached to him by the minute. Like the Grinch, my heart is growing multiple sizes because of all the feelings he’s creating. But what happens to all those feelings when he rolls out of San Francisco on his giant tour bus? My head is still firmly not on board with any of this. My heart and my gut are focused solely on Zach, staring at him with big cartoony hearts floating up into the air.
“What are you thinking about so seriously?”
Only when he speaks do I realize I was frowning at a nondescript spot on the carpet, deep in my thoughts. His voice is a sexy, raspy growl, stirring something low in my belly. I force the corners of my mouth to turn up.
“Nothing important.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look that way from here.”
Our eyes are locked on each other and I feel the pull of those depthless brown eyes, so focused on me. Zach studies me silently, looking like he wants to ask me so many questions. He reaches out and takes my hand.
“Are you worried about tomorrow?” he rasps.
My heart skips a beat just thinking about it. I really hate any kind of negative attention. It’s a hangover from my days as a foster kid. From the time I left the Lewises, I was constantly acting out in a desperate attempt to feel like I had control over anything. Negative attention was all I knew. Now, as an adult who mostly has her act together, any negative attention…like losing my job because I was the star of a viral video…gives me flashbacks to a tumultuous time I would rather not think about.
“I can’t help it,” I admit. “I hate letting people down. Or breaking the rules.”
He frowns. “Surely you deserve a little grace here. These people you work for sound horrible.”
“In terms of company culture, they are pretty awful,” I admit. “But their reputation is stellar, and if I can get a letter of recommendation for law school, it would give me a lot of leverage. It opens a lot of doors. So it feels worth it to me.”
He nods slowly. “So that’s why you fight so hard to fit in with people who are so…different.”
I consider his words for a moment. Not because they’re hurtful but because they’re true in a way I’d never thought of before. I nod slowly.
“Well, it’s over now,” I say with a heavy sigh. “There’s no way Ms. Taft hasn’t seen the story, and that’s a truth I must face tomorrow.”
He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I shake my head. “Nothing I can think of. It’s me against the Evil Queen, and she will win this one.”
His throat bobs.
“I know you don’t need me,” he says with a wry smile. “I know you’re perfectly able to fight this battle on your own, but just know that I will slay dragons for you, my lady. Evil Queens too.”
I offer him a brave smile. He opens his arms to me, and I swing my legs off his lap so I can scoot closer. Instantly, he pulls me against his chest and wraps me in an embrace that feels so much like home I have to fight back tears. A picture, clear as day, forms in my mind of a life with this kind, generous, and insanely romantic man. One where I’m free of all the worry I heap upon myself. A life with a man who would slay all the monsters for me. It feels reckless to hope for such a thing, but right now, in this moment, I close my eyes and snuggle closer, locking that picture away in my heart.