For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) (11 page)

“You know you can’t do that next week!” I shouted. He was laughing so hard the boat rocked and I felt my attraction grow by tenfold. Though it concerned me, I enjoyed the moment and how beautiful he looked.

“I know,” he said catching his breath. “I never break character, I just saw your face!”

“Oh, thanks!”

“No,” he shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. It’s just interesting reading sexually charged lines with you.”

“Well, you picked them,” I smirked.

“You’re right, mea culpa.”

“I do hope you don’t laugh on stage like that. The audience won’t appreciate the humor like I do.”

“I won’t,” he said, leaning closer to me with his entire body. “Does that mean you’re coming to the opening night? I have a front row seat saved for you. After all our work, I’ll feel better if you’re there….” He looked away and then back, quickly making a mental decision. “I think I rather need you there.”

I never would have guessed that I could make a celebrity more self-assured, but it touched my heart to know he needed me in his own way, that the yearning wasn’t just mine.

“Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Brilliant,” he smiled with pleasure. “How about we row around a bit before we return the boat?”

I nodded complacently and Rhys rowed us in circles around the pond, allowing me to glance at his biceps through my sunglasses. I enjoyed the view of his muscles working to move the boat through the water, and while I was certain he could see me looking, he allowed it, smirking quietly and rowing harder. It was the nicest afternoon and I would’ve stayed there with him forever. My stress fell away as he made me feel burden-less, and most of all, happy.

CHAPTER EIGHT

R
hys walked me home, explaining that he would be taking me somewhere different for our last meeting. He insisted that Bruce pick me up and that we’d only be practicing for the first half of the day. After our walk on Tuesday his hug had said so many things. In his embrace, there was tenderness as he accidentally touched my hair against my back. I could feel his breath hitch when I moved my own arm across his back, mimicking his motions. I savored every second, hoping that he was genuine when he said Thursday wouldn’t be the last time I saw him, but I was also terrified, because where could it go after? What would come of this closeness and would I continue allowing it?

Long after Rhys left I thought about who we were together and what we were becoming. I thought about who Aaron and I were and what I’d want for him if our roles were reversed. Hypothetically, I hoped Aaron would have moved on despite his loyalty to me, and knew he’d likely want me to do the same.

But whenever my thoughts went to Rhys, my stomach panged with guilt. It was as if I was constantly cheating on one with the other, even though I wasn’t in a relationship with either of them. My body betrayed me and Aaron every time Rhys was around, and my heart betrayed Rhys whenever I remembered Aaron. I knew he wouldn’t want me alone forever; he’d even mentioned it once years ago. Whenever my bed felt emptiest, I recalled the night we’d watched
P.S. I Love You
.

Aaron looked over half way through the movie. “Don’t do that,” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“If I’m not around, don’t stay alone because of me.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“What, you moving on?”

“No, I won’t have to,” I said, so sure of myself. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that,” he said, nudging my arm. “If I’m not around, promise you’ll keep living, okay?”

“Okay!” I said, shoving him off my skin. “Stop being so depressing.”

“I just know how you are, Ellie.”

I leaned up in the bed and kissed him. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re stuck with me forever.”

And then he tickled me and said, “Only if I keep you around!”

We started playing roughly and ended up having sex, not finishing the movie that would eventually turn into my life. That memory had stayed vivid amongst others over the years.

A few weeks after he died, in some moment of clarity, I remembered his foreshadowing that night and went crazy. I became obsessed that he’d known something was wrong, that his parents, Max and Julie, had kept some imaginary condition from me to assure their son be loved in life. I’d even tried looking through their medical records when they thought I was in the bathroom. Eventually, after two weeks of tender convincing, I understood and settled down. It was just a fluke. I’d been both lucky and unlucky to love someone with an early end in life.

I glanced at his picture on my desk that night and could still remember the way his big lips felt on mine, the smell of his skin. It sounds gross, but I loved the special scent his skin had after a long day, natural and all him, and I cried whenever I realized one day I wouldn’t remember it as clearly. I kept some of his clothes and threw them in a zip-lock just to preserve the smell, and sometimes when I was really depressed I opened it and gave in to lunacy. The scent would eventually fade, but it was the strangest comfort knowing he was still around in that way.

I often spoke to Aaron in my head, and that night I stared at him and told him everything racing through my mind.

I hope you know I’ll always love you.

I hope you know you’re always in my heart and head.

You know you aren’t forgotten, right?

After gazing at him for a while, I looked up flights for home out of curiosity and nostalgia. I was able to find one relatively cheap and Skyped my parents over dinner to see if it was a good time to visit. They both ecstatically agreed, grateful to see me after months, and so I booked my ticket. Once I saw their faces I knew I wanted to hold them and go home, and I became excited at the thought of seeing my friends, Anne and James, too. I hoped to talk to my mother and gain some clarity about Rhys, but I hadn’t decided if I wanted to for certain because she always meant well, but lost control sometimes.

As soon as I clicked confirm for my ticket, I felt disheartened, knowing it meant I’d be away from Rhys all week. We didn’t have plans anyways since our practices were canceled, but the hopeful prospect was nice to dream about. I packed for my flight the following evening, leaving everything but my feelings in order.

∞

The following morning Bruce picked me up for Rhys’ house. When we drove onto his lawn I could see him outside on his phone. Upon further study I noted something different in his face: nerves, frustration, I couldn’t place it. He hung up and opened my door the moment Bruce parked, sweetly giving me his hand to help me out. His shoulders were tight, as were his lips, and I gave in to temptation, asking, “Is everything all right?”

“Of course. I’m glad to see you.”

I didn’t push for more information as Rhys guided me to the living room. Once I was comfortable on the sofa he admitted, “I love seeing you here.” I wasn’t sure if he meant to say it, but I loved that he couldn’t contain himself around me. “I feel more at home in my own house. Is that strange?”

I shook my head, smiling and knowing exactly what he meant. “Not at all.”

His eyes lingered on my face longingly with some unrecognizable emotion that he quickly rolled it off his shoulders. “We’d better get started to make our lunch appointment.”

We practiced for our last time together, and it was bittersweet watching him read his lines. I watched tenaciously, realizing that the next time I’d see him he would be reciting those same words on stage, in costume, and I’d be at a unique distance from the front row. He would be physically close, but emotionally unattainable. We would no longer be working together, but instead hopefully continuing to remain friends as he said. I became irrational, angry at life for giving me guaranteed meetings with him only to take them away early. They always had an end date, but I had tricked myself into hoping it would never come.

I asked him if he had any specific concerns about dialogue or theme, but he was comfortable with himself. Rhys shook his head and winked, “I’m not worried. I’ve been instructed by the best.”

My insides melted completely. He exuded constant charm and sex appeal, but that tiny action rendered me useless. I thought I’d maintained outward composure, but his suspicious grin told me I wasn’t entirely successful. He knew full well what he did to me. I remained unraveled for the rest of the afternoon all because that simple wink.

For lunch Rhys took me on a Thames cruise. During the drive I grew preoccupied over telling him about my plans to go home. I didn't want him to believe I’d kept them from him, but ultimately I decided to wait until after lunch, unsure if it would ruin the mood. He rented a boat that could easily hold 20 people exclusively for us. It was exquisite standing on the edge with him as we passed through the city. The river itself was brown and grimy, but it was a beautiful way to see London. I’d never done it, and all I could focus on was him, how beautiful he looked in his tailored navy pants and white shirt, the way the sun brought out the copper in his hair. His beard had filled in for the show, and while I preferred him clean shaved, he was still flawless. As he looked out to the monuments, his eyes seemed incredibly blue, reflecting the sky in his irises. Rhys hadn’t spoken since arriving onto the boat, allowing me to enjoy the view before he gestured me towards our table.

“Surprised?”

“Yes, thank you. I’ve never been on the river.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes piercing inexplicably into mine. I felt studied like a butterfly pinned to a wall, as though he was trying to read my thoughts. Sometimes I wished he could, even though I’d die of embarrassment, but at least he’d know my true sentiments. Maybe he would share his own too and that freaked me out even more. I tried waiting to talk about my trip, but quickly saw there wouldn’t be a perfect time. Rhys could tell there was something on my mind, and I suspected it was his reason for watching me so closely.

“I’m going to miss our meetings,” he offered, hoping to bring me out of my shell.

“Me too.”

Rhys proceeded to tell me his complicated schedule for the show, which left us with Mondays, Fridays and Sunday nights to see each other.

Desperation crossed his look when he asked, “You still want to keep in touch, yeah?”

“Of course,” I agreed a little too enthusiastically.

“Good.” He paused looking away to the shore. “Would you like to take a picture with the city?”

Before I could answer he got up and took out his phone, posing next to me to take a photo of the two of us. I’d foolishly assumed he meant of each of us alone. Rhys pulled me in close, enough so that I could smell his cologne as he placed his hand around my waist. It smelled delicious, his typical woodsy and citrus scent, and it left me dizzy. After taking two photos he held the screen before us and said, “We look good like that, huh?”

I wasn’t sure if he meant in the picture, with the monuments, or the two of us so tightly beside one another. I agreed, hoping it was the latter.

Once we returned to the table, our waiter brought out our pasta dishes. Mid-bite I said, “I have to tell you something.” I could see him panicking so I continued to subdue him. “I’m going home for a few days.”

His lips became straight, his smile vanishing, and I could see his mind was thinking everything all at once. “When do you leave and return?” he asked, worried that I would miss the show and it tugged at my heart.

“Tonight. I return Thursday.”

“Tonight,” he lowered his head and eyelids. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He thought I wasn’t going to tell him. “I booked it last night since our practices were canceled. I haven’t been home in eight months. I need to see my parents. I miss them.”

“Of course. I’m glad you’re going.” He paused, swallowing tightly and finally looked back at me with glassy eyes. “It’s just sudden.”

“It is, but I promise to be at the show. I can’t wait and it’s getting me through the hardship of going home.”

Rhys’ mind was too unavailable to process my veiled confession, that
he
was my wanted distraction. He became distant for a beat as he stared towards the water. When his gaze returned to me he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it just as quickly.

“What?” I inquired.

“What time is your flight?”

“Ten.”

“How are you getting to the airport?”

“I was just going to take the Tube,” I shrugged.

“Can I take you instead?” he broke in.

“You don’t have to, Rhys, it’s—”

Interrupting me again he said, “Please, I’m going to miss you.” He stopped, catching his breath. “I was going to miss you when we were both in London, now I certainly will.”

I couldn’t help thinking he didn’t mean to vocalize his thoughts, but I was delighted he did. There he was, offering the words I’d wanted to hear, the same ones that had been reverberating through my thoughts for weeks.

“Okay,” I said, not sharing my similar attitude.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me you’re leaving, and letting me escort you.”

“Of course I’d tell you.”