For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) Page 7

  After a half hour he leaned forward, placed his hand on my knee, and asked, “Can I drive you home, instead of Bruce?”

  I grinned, “Wow. You’re handsome, can read, and you can drive, too. How are you still single?”

  “Aren’t you clever?” he asked, extending his hand to me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Being trapped in the car with him was overwhelming. I loved how the proximity allowed me to breathe in his sweet, citric cologne in the air. He opened my door while avoiding my gaze, again nervous unlike I’d ever seen him, and after a few quiet minutes in the car he began, “You know, I don’t invite many into my home, but it was nice having you there.” He paused, looking over at me with vulnerability in his eyes. “As a celebrity, you try leading a normal life, but also have to protect yourself from overzealous fans.”

  “The crazies?” I laughed.

  “Essentially,” he smirked. “I’m grateful for their support, but it makes closeness difficult.”

  “Hmm, you know you took a risk having me over, you don’t know me well enough. I could be crazy…”

  He looked over again having stopped at a red light. “I know you well enough. Don’t diminish our time together.”

  His tone was clipped, offended, and it made me uncomfortable. Was I diminishing things? And who was it that I was trying to convince? Him or myself?

  After turning again his smile returned, though not in full force. “I’d like to know you better, Ellie. I promise that when the show starts, our time doesn’t end.”

  How I wished his words would hold true. I knew my addiction to his company wasn’t healthy, but he was irresistible and brought me to life. I’d been trying to convince myself otherwise, but it was clear as day that Rhys made me cheerful.

  We arrived at my building shortly after and he parked at a meter, grabbing my door from across the console to keep me inside. “Wait, not yet,” he said.

  Blood rushed through my ears, panic settling over the prospect of him kissing me, or telling me something I wasn’t sure I could hear. I wanted to hear it, but I knew I couldn’t handle the honesty in his face. I wondered what his lips tasted like, but only in the darkest corners of my imagination. The reality of it was too scary, too weighted with pressure from myself and my past. He noticed my alarm and put his hand on mine. “Relax, Ellie.” He paused. “You believe me don’t you? I’ve been nothing but truthful from the beginning.”

  “I’d like to, but you’re you, and I’m me. I know you’ll be busy, so please don’t feel obligated.”

  I pushed him away with my words, not because I didn’t believe him, but because I did. I couldn’t continue feeding myself lies after only two weeks of knowing him.

  His face held tight displeasure, his lips pursing angrily. “There’s no obligation. I told you I do things because I want to. It’s disheartening to hear your lack of faith in me.”

  “No,” I squeezed his hand. I never touched him, at least not on my own initiation, but he felt it all over, so much so that he looked at our hands and back up at me in surprise. “I do, Rhys. But we’ve had to work together, and while we’ve become friends, we haven’t known each other long. You don’t owe me anything.”

  His mouth opened and closed multiple times as he tried gathering his words. When he finally did, they tore into my heart like metal shrapnel from an explosion. “I think we are more than you claim. How many people have you told about Aaron since you’ve moved here?”

  I knew he was proving his point, and he was right, but I hated that he used it against me. Pulling my hand from his arm, I recoiled from him as my eyes betrayed my imagined composure and watered. Anger settled as I regretted sharing myself with him, only to have it shot back as ammunition. I got out of the car immediately without looking back, and I could hear him following me into the building.

  His steps weren’t far behind as I hit the first landing and he said, “Ellie, you know I’m right.”

  I ignored him, continuing up the steps so roughly that I almost fell and had to stop to remove my shoes. He continued through the hallway, “I’m not just some friend you can toss aside because you’re afraid to lose me. I’m not just someone that’ll forget about you. I can’t forget about you, you must know this even after our short time.”

  Unlocking my door, I turned to look at him. His voice was harsh, winded from the steps, and vulnerable. But I didn’t give in. “Rhys, I’m really tired, it’s fine—”

  He interrupted me, “I’m sorry, please.”

  “Thanks for dinner and for driving me,” I said, ignoring his apology.

  “Ellie, please,” he begged for pardon, regret churning in his blue eyes that seemed darker. I stepped into my apartment and said, “Goodnight, Rhys,” before closing the door.

  Peeking through the peephole, I watched him pace back and forth through the hall before he yelled, “Fuck!” It shocked me, surprised me to see he was angry enough to shed his unreasonably polished demeanor. After a few moments he left, walking far enough away where I couldn’t see him, and I lay on the couch, clutching all my pillows as I wept myself to sleep.

  ∞

  Idiotically, I’d trusted someone. I did what I swore I wouldn’t and was dealing with the side effects. I think what hurt the most was that Rhys had used my flaw as a weapon. He probably hadn’t meant to be harsh, but knowing he used my most personal fears and pain against me made me furious. I woke up on my couch at around 3:00 a.m., having to change out of my wrinkled dress and wash off my make-up that had smeared across my cheeks. When I lay in bed I didn’t cry anymore, but I missed Aaron more than ever. I was bitter that life had stolen my future; that he’d left me behind to fend for myself as damaged goods.

  No one would ever understand me, my baggage or how incomplete I felt without the other piece of my soul, and I knew if Aaron were there he would have comforted me, having always been the best at making me feel better. He was my person. He knew what to feed me, how to hold me, the little comforts that soothed my troubles at the end of the day. He understood when I needed pushing or when it was better to remain quiet and listen. I think that’s what I longed for most, the familiarity you gain when you’ve grown with someone. It felt wasted, gone forever, and if I ever allowed myself to love again, I’d have to start from the beginning. I didn’t just miss Aaron, I missed how I felt having someone on my team every second of the day.

  I slept for most of Sunday, grateful that I didn’t have to see Rhys until Tuesday. He had texted me first thing in the morning, the chime bringing me out of the bathroom with the toothbrush still in my mouth. My heart simultaneously jumped and dropped upon seeing his name on the screen.

  Rhys: Ellie, I can’t tell you how bad I feel. I didn’t sleep last night and I know I’ve been the worst shit. Please let me know you’re okay, that we’re okay?

  I didn’t answer it, putting it back on my nightstand and eating breakfast instead. Afterward, I watched chick flicks on the couch and must have fallen asleep because I awoke to a loud knock on the door. Jolting up, I caught my bearings and checked through the peephole. No one was there, but when I opened it I found a box with a card on it, brought it in and quickly opened it.

  Ellie,

  I feel like a fool. I mistakenly hurt someone that I’ve felt closer to than ever before. I took my frustrations out on you, knowing that our time was cut short and broke your trust. I know you have those walls up for good reason, but it’s hard to be close with you when it feels you’re always pushing me away. I know you’re protecting yourself, but you needn’t protect yourself from me. I care for you. You can trust me. Meeting you has been such a heartfelt happening, and I’m not going anywhere. Please forgive my idiocy, it won’t happen again.

  Your friend,

  Rhys

  P.S. enjoy the cakes. They’re from my favorite bakery.

  “When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down, and ask of thee forgiveness.” - King Lear, Act 5, Sc 3

  Realizing how immensely he cared for me
made me come off as irrational. He hadn’t lied since he’d met me and I had no reason to doubt him. Worst of all he knew exactly what I was doing, proving that he knew me better than I gave him credit for. How was it that after two weeks he understood it all? His delivery was sweet, as were the cupcakes inside, and I thought it was clever that he had included a Shakespeare quote. Obviously, Rhys knew how to butter me up, but no matter what he’d done, I still felt hesitant to talk about Aaron ever again. The damage had scared my open heart and settled into my brain, and I wasn’t sure I could forget it. Maybe if I talked to him about it, he would understand. I texted him a while after to let him off the hook.

  Me: Thanks for everything, but especially the apology.

  Rhys: Can I come by in an hour? I’d like to see you.

  Me: Sure, why don’t we meet at the park?

  ∞

  Facing him didn’t seem like the best idea, but my heart couldn’t resist. In choosing the park, I hoped to gain some middle ground, a place where I didn’t feel trapped by his presence while exposing the mess my apartment had become in misery. Forgiving him was one thing, but was continuing to see him practical? Probably not, especially because I couldn’t stop obsessing over him, wondering if he was attracted to me, or what his lips would feel like on my skin. The effect he’d had in just two weeks couldn’t end well if I continued seeing him, especially if I was picturing his mouth on mine. Yet I still agreed to my infatuation, because after two miserable years, Rhys was the only therapy that worked.

  We agreed to meet by the Peter Pan statue in Hyde Park, and I approached him on the path noticing his head hung low. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up at me with glassy blue eyes and the saddest smile. It physically hurt seeing him that way. He wasn’t his chipper self, the light in his eyes gone, replaced with some somber emotion I couldn’t name. He seemed vacant when he waved his hand pathetically and mouthed, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said aloud. Rhys crept toward me having become impatient while waiting for me to close the distance. He wanted to hold me, to embrace me closely, but hesitated. Instead, he placed his hand on my cheek, causing me to hold my breath. All I could think was that he better not kiss me. As many times as I’d imagined it, I was nowhere near ready. I don’t know if he read the fear in my eyes, or if he wasn’t planning on it, but he didn’t. He just gazed at me and held my face with kindness.

  Finally, he leaned closer, apologizing with his hands around my back both caressing and firmly holding on. His masculine hands and long fingers felt so welcome against me. I had forgotten what it was like to be held. I forgave him earlier, but I really forgave him then, feeling his heart beating against mine through our chests, our breaths in unison like rising and falling waves of the ocean.

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispered.

  “It’s okay,” I said softly into his shoulder.

  Rhys pulled away. “There’s something else I haven’t apologized for.”

  “Huh?”

  He leaned back and grabbed my hands. “I’m sorry I disrespected your memory of Aaron. I know how difficult it was to open up to me, understandably, and I was reckless to his memory and your struggle. I hope you trust it won’t happen again, and I hope you still trust me to talk about it. You’ve come to life since.”

  His mouth was only inches from mine; if I wanted to I could have pulled him down and sealed it against my lips. Truthfully, I was surprised how much I did want that again. His eyes were heavy with culpability, paralyzing me, as I got lost in the emotion they held. He squeezed my hands. “Please say something.”

  I clasped his hands back. “Rhys, it’s okay. We both messed up. I took it too hard.”

  “We’re okay?”

  “Yes, I promise.” Relief flooded his entire body as he dropped his shoulders and his hands twitched in mine. “What?”

  “Nothing, I thought I lost you.” The intensity of those words, the way he stared at my lips, and momentarily rubbed my hand, allowed me to believe I meant more to him than he let on, if only for seconds. Clarity came over me and I restored my walls.

  “It’s okay,” I said, pulling my hands from his. “Friends forgive each other, right?”

  “Yeah, friends do,” he frowned.

  We ended up sitting on the bench by the statue, discussing the play and life, anything to make things how they were before. And it was. It came back naturally when I told him I loved Peter Pan and had a dog named Nana.

  “Would you prefer to stay young forever, or live life normally?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. There are pros and cons to each. My teenage years were awful though, so I don’t know that I’d want that forever.”

  “Why?” he laughed, leaning his throat back and revealing veins I loved.

  “Well,” I cringed. “I was moody and awkward. I had braces and pimples…you name it.” He laughed harder, a deep chuckle from his belly and I elbowed him. “I’m glad you’re amused with your good looks and all.”

  “Oh, come on. I didn’t always look like this. Besides,” he looked over at me, leaning his hand along the back of the bench so that his fingers were almost touching me. “You came out all right.”

  “Thanks,” I scoffed.

  “I mean,” he said clearing his throat. “You’re quite perfect, actually.”

  Rhys stared, admiring me, his eyes intently on mine and I had to look at my feet rubbing the gravel. Sometimes when he looked at me I wondered if he could read my thoughts, if he knew how unwound he left me, how accepted he made me feel. When he said things like that it was hard to tell if he was being friendly, or if he meant it in the way I hoped and was afraid of. I played along out of curiosity.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, desperate to get back on topic. “There are benefits to getting older though. You can make money, you can fall in love and kiss…” I paused. “But if you stay young forever you have to watch those you love die.”

  I thought of Aaron, forever trapped in my memories as I aged alone. Rhys knew what was on my mind; he’d always read me so well.

  “I want to ask you something, but I don’t know if I’ve lost the privilege now.”

  “You can ask about him, I trust you,” I said, placing my hand on his momentarily. I meant it. He was just as human as I was and I couldn’t fault him for a mistake. Upon my touch his eyes flooded with relief. Under the London sun they looked a darker blue, contrasting against his white v-neck that revealed short chest hairs.

  “Do you think Aaron would have liked me, I mean, would we have gotten along well?”

  Until that point his questions had only been about Aaron or me, so hearing him asking about himself was unexpected. But then I realized it was the best question he’d asked yet. It was interesting that he would care enough to know that Aaron would’ve approved, if they would have been friends, and then I wondered why he cared. What did it matter?

  Right there I realized this was why Rhys was special. This was why he made me feel alive and soaring after two years of sinking and drowning. He asked all the questions that mattered and took them to heart. He had taken me into his heart, too, it seemed.

  I thought about Aaron and Rhys’ similarities: how they were both incredibly sweet, kindhearted men, how they loved making people laugh, or the way both could be serious, yet equally ridiculous.

  “I think so Rhys, yeah. I think you would have gotten on well.” It was strange to think of the man I loved with my whole heart being friends with the man that was slowly possessing it, but it was remarkably right, like everything with Rhys.

  He walked me home, laughing up my stairs when we remembered how I almost fell, and hugged me goodbye with the promise of tomorrow. With only two more rehearsals, I was going to savor them just in case.

  ∞

  Late Monday night Rhys messaged thanking me for my forgiveness. He felt guilty, but I didn’t want him to keep carrying it as this tangible thing between us. I told him as such and then his answer left me floored.

  Rhys: I know. I’ll
stop. I just want you to understand that while it may seem I have everything with my job, wealth and such, I’ve never been so comfortable as I am with you. It’s different, serene even. You don’t care who I am, you just like me for me. It’s the best feeling because I haven’t felt that in a long time, it gets lonely. To think I could have risked that freaked me out a bit.

  Me: I know, but rest easy. I’m not ditching you just yet. ;)

  I answered playfully, but if he could’ve seen my face then he would have known I was speechless. It seemed that Rhys felt as alone as I did in the world, and with him in my life I realized I hated the feeling too.

  I slept well that night, my heart a little lighter, floating on thoughts of him. I’d actually been sleeping better each day since we’d met. Sleep didn’t always elude me; in fact after Aaron died all I did was sleep. I got admitted about a week later for panic attacks, and the hospital had given me pills that worked wonders, allowing me to shut the world out when I closed my eyes. But weeks after burying him, I moved back in with my parents and that’s when sleep evaded me. Not only had I gone through a horrific loss, I had been uprooted back into my adolescent room. I was taken back in time with memories of a future I no longer had.

  The image of Aaron deathly still in bed beside me hadn’t faded whatsoever. It was something I saw every couple of days in the back of my mind, sometimes in the empty space next to me when I woke up. I did a good job of avoiding such things, but it was seared into my memory. He looked so restful, so normal, but when I passed my hand over his chest and felt how firm it was, I knew something was wrong. He didn’t respond to my touch, he was cold and his soft belly rigid.

  I hopped up beside him, trying to pat him, smacking his face to wake him, with no result. It felt like a cruel joke, something we’d fight about for days when he finally woke up, except he didn’t. Panic set in, and in my desperate screams to wake him, a neighbor knocked on the door. I continued screaming, they called the paramedics, and I couldn’t remember anything past that. They must have taken his body, or at least that’s what my mother told me. In wild shock, they’d called my next of kin, the one that wasn’t dead at least.