Chapter 25 Haven #2
“Who the fuck was that?” he snaps, brushing himself down, though his nostrils are flaring so much he looks like he’s about to breathe fire, his eyes narrowing on the pair of them far in the distance.
“And what the fuck was she doing riding along this path? It’s clearly posted, No Ponies.
” He points at a sign that says exactly that and straightens up his clothes.
Alex and Hendricks shrug. Saylor and I barely saw what happened. We all stand there peering into the distance where the pony and rider disappeared. In the end, Alex throws an arm around Miles’s shoulders.
“C’mon, let’s get you a drink.”
I’ve never been inside the Aspen polo clubhouse, but it’s set out exactly how I’d imagine.
Like the rest of Aspen, it’s all ski lodge vibes that look better in the winter than the summer.
Christmas decorations have been replaced with glittery snowflakes and twinkle lights for the New Year’s Eve party I saw advertised at the entrance.
Miles recovers himself enough to secure us a large table by the window overlooking the polo field. The fresh snowfall is giving everything that magical vibe, and if I missed anything about Aspen in the time I was away, it’s the snow.
“I vote for champagne,” Clemmie declares the moment she sits down. “Haven, Saylor? You too? The boys will probably have beer.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Me too,” Saylor adds, dropping into the chair opposite me.
Alex takes the seat next to mine, his hand immediately finding my thigh where it rests, even though he’s talking to Hendricks. Miles is working the room before the drinks are ordered, flitting between tables of people he recognizes, friends from the polo world, all of whom greet him with a big hug.
Saylor leans in. “How’re you feeling?”
I’m stifling a yawn as I answer, which says it all. In fact, I do feel really tired. “I don’t know how long I’ll last before I need to go home.”
“At least stay for one game. I’ve never watched polo. Or been here.”
“One game.” I hold my finger up, which she leans over and grabs.
“I’m so happy you’re back.”
“Thank you.”
“Seriously, Havey, I know I saw you on FaceTime, but you look so good. You look like you again, only better.”
I glance down at Alex’s hand, which is now squeezing my thigh. He’s still talking to Hendricks, but I know he just heard what Saylor said, and she’s right. I’m me again, not just to look at in the mirror, but everything I can’t see I feel deep in my chest. In my heart, the old Haven is back.
Going to England healed something in me that I was too damn exhausted to attempt fixing.
“Are you happy to be home?”
I glance down at Alex’s hand again, at the vein running down from his fingers, disappearing into his wrist, under his watch face, and along his thick, corded forearm where his sweater is pushed up. I’m staring at it when Saylor snaps her fingers under my nose.
“Sorry . . . I was thinking.”
Her brows drop. “Thinking about whether you’re happy to be home?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Kind of. I am happy. Of course I am, it’s Aspen, c’mon . . .”
“But?”
My reply, which would have been I’m thinking about where Everly should grow up, gets pushed to one side as Miles sits down, taking Saylor’s attention. Or rather, he drops down with a huff.
“No one knows who that girl is.”
“What girl?” asks Clemmie, looking up from her phone and whomever she’s messaging at rapid speed.
He stares at his sister in bewilderment, then enunciates every word. “The one who nearly killed me.”
“Ah, gotcha.” She finger guns him, which makes me wonder if she’s still sore about the Christmas card, especially when a coy smile tugs her lips as she goes back to her messaging. “I ordered drinks by the way. The server’s bringing them over.”
Miles barely finishes his sentence when the drinks arrive, though he’s now staring out of the window where the polo is about to start.
When they’re all filled, Clemmie lifts her glass. “Cheers, everyone. Happy almost New Year.”
Alex leans in close enough to press his lips to mine, setting off a succession of little butterflies deep in my belly that I’ll never tire of. “Happy almost New Year, Hayve.”
“Happy almost New Year, babe.”
“Holiday says their plane gets in this evening, but they’ll go straight to the house,” Clemmie says, shutting off her phone and placing it on the table.
Saylor lets out a gasp. “Holiday Simpson’s coming to Aspen?”
I nod. “We’re all spending New Year’s Eve together.”
Her face freezes for a second before she rolls her lips, with a “cool, cool, cool.” I can see how hard she’s trying to keep a straight face.
“No biggie. Absolutely no big deal whatsoever. I’m celebrating tomorrow night with a straight-up celebrity.
” Except the side-eye she shoots me is because she wants me to know how hard it is for her to contain her excitement.
And I do know. Because she probably spent the last week reading US Weekly and People articles on what Hollywood stars were doing for the holidays, and now she’s going to be with one of them.
I swear, if she ended up in any of those magazines, her head would explode.
But Clemmie, being the girl’s girl she is, leans forward, her voice dropped. “Honestly, I lost my shit with excitement when she moved to England. I basically forced myself on her to be my friend. But she’s seriously the sweetest person. You’ll see.”
Our heads turn at the small commotion caused by several people running to the windows for the beginning of the polo.
Eight ponies race across the snow as their riders try to take control of a colored ball to knock between two posts.
It’s intense, and though I’ve not seen Miles play, I can totally imagine him on the back of a horse, laser-focused on winning.
He doesn’t strike me as the type who likes losing.
“Holy shit. Look.” He points out of the window, and all five of us follow. But beyond the game, I’m not sure what we’re supposed to be looking at.
“Um, Milo—” It’s all Alex needs to say.
“Number thirteen! The one who nearly ended my life an hour ago.” He’s tapping hard on the window, his eyes tracking her across the field. “She can ride. I’ll give her that much. Even if she is psychotic.”
“Maybe she received one of your Christmas cards,” Clemmie deadpans, turning back to Saylor and me and throwing another withering look at Miles, which he ignores. “So, Saylor, tell me what you do in Aspen.”
“I teach first grade.” She grins, especially when Clemmie’s eyes widen. “So as you can imagine, I take my vacation time very seriously. Six-year-olds are not for the fainthearted.”
“I hear you. My nephew, Max, is five, and that’s enough for me. I couldn’t handle an entire class of them. Bravo.”
“Hey, at least you know your strengths and weaknesses.” She laughs. “What do you do?”
She puts her glass down and sits back in her chair.
“I graduated from university this year, and I haven’t decided what to do yet.
I think Lando’s expecting me to work for the family, but I have no idea in what capacity.
” She sighs, and I feel it deep in my bones.
Because that sigh sounds exactly like mine did when I was totally lost. It’s a sigh I had up until I arrived in England.
“But for the moment, I’m happy enjoying my time and not worrying about exams.”
Saylor throws a smirk my way. “And you’ve had Haven to keep you company.”
“Exactly. And I wouldn’t have been able to spend so much time with Everly if I’d had a boring job.”
“We missed you, though,” I add, leaning over to Saylor and patting her knee, and it’s as if my eye catches something that my brain is a little slower to compute.
It seems I’ve been so happy and distracted living my bucolic English life that I totally forgot about Mike. Saylor hasn’t mentioned him since I first arrived in England, and it never occurred to me that he’d be here where I am. At the polo club.
But if I’m not mistaken, the guy walking past our section is him.
“Say . . . Saylor,” I hiss, but she’s deep in conversation with Clemmie, so I resort to a swift kick to her ankle.
“Ouch, what the fuck?”
I shrink down, so the guy who looks really like Mike doesn’t see me. “What’s he doing here?”
She couldn’t be more obvious when she turns around. Saylor is the queen of looks that kill, and Mike just got served. And when I catch his double take the moment he notices me sitting across from her, so do I.
I shrink down into my seat anyway and lace my fingers with Alex for extra protection. He doesn’t break the conversation as he lifts it to his mouth and kisses it.
“Working, I guess. I heard he got another job. Joe fired him from the Old Saloon, but I didn’t hear where.”
“Joe fired him?”
She nods. “Yeah, for being an asshole.” The implication in her tone is clear. Because, obviously, he was being an asshole.
“How did I not know that?”
She shrugs. “I probably forgot to tell you. I try not to think about him. Ever.”
I’m doing everything I can to pretend I don’t see him, and I think I’m almost in the clear when Alex shoots his hand up to call him over.
Saylor freezes with a wide smirk on her face and turns her entire body away from what’s about to go down, so it looks like she’s talking to Clemmie when she’s doing anything but.
I don’t have that luxury.
“Pardon me. Would you mind bringing us some bottles of water and another round of beers, please?” Alex’s eyes move from Mike to me, and his hand cups my cheek. “Babe, do you want anything else?” I can feel Mike tracking the movement.
I’m so stiff that I can barely squeak out, “Water is good.”
Alex’s brows flicker in an “are you okay?” way, then turns back to Mike with a smile. “Just the waters and beers, please, mate.”
I don’t look up. Instead, I’m glaring at Saylor, who’s trying her best not to laugh. As soon as Mike leaves, I kick her again.
“You’re such a dick. He’s going to come back now.”
Clemmie’s head swivels between me, Saylor, and Mike’s retreating form. “What’s the tea?”