The Foretelling (Charlotte Bloom #1) (20 page)

I got out of the tub and got ready slowly, just the way I liked. I hated rushing. I kept my hair pinned up as I slathered lotion all over my arms and legs. It was a warm night, which was good because I planned on wearing my new dress. I put on my sexiest black lace underwear and matching see-through bra, and slipped into the dress. It was a thick, red material with velvet, maroon paisley spotted all over it, and it had a fitted bodice and flared out at my waist. I zipped it up on the side. It fell to mid-thigh. The dress fit perfectly for not having tried it on at Bloomingdale’s, and also considering I had put on a few pounds since being here. I put the light black cardigan on, which was nice against the material of the dress. Then I slipped into the black stilettos from Amara’s wedding.

I left my hair down, but pinned back a section on one side, twisting it around to the back of my ear. I sprayed some hair spray to give it some wave. Next, I put on a light coat of foundation, some powder, blush, a bit of eyeliner, and mascara. I topped the look off with earrings and red lipstick that somehow matched my dress perfectly. I checked myself out in the mirror. I looked almost as good as I had at Amara’s wedding. The red in the dress accentuated my pale skin, and my lipstick brought out my eyes. I swished some mouthwash, keeping tabs on the time. 6:47. Perfect. I grabbed my lipstick, tucked it into the pocket of my cardigan, and my keys. I double-checked everything. I was ready. I stepped out into the hallway.

All of the lights were off. I blinked, disoriented. I checked my room clock. 6:48. The shuttle hadn’t left yet… had it? I locked my door quickly and went to the check-in desk. No one was there. As I headed out the front door, I realized with a sickening feeling that they’d left without me. There was no one around. I checked the common room. No one was there. The dining room was empty as well. Suddenly, I heard shuffling in the kitchen. The fact that everyone was gone, and the kitchen was dark, put me off for a minute. Who was in there? It could easily turn in to some kind of horror movie. I walked towards the swinging doors and slowly opened them. Alec stood in front of the refrigerator, gazing in. It was dark, but I was pretty sure it was him.

"Where is everybody?"

My voice startled him. He jumped about a foot in the air and his coffee went flying all over his shirt.

"Jesus, Charlotte. I was just about to come get you."

"What?"

"Helen had the shuttle run down a little earlier. She asked me to take you to the party."

Huh. Suddenly, it was all starting to make sense. I had a feeling that George and Helen getting the shuttle to leave a little early was not out of convenience, but because then I’d have to drive with Alec.

"I see. I guess you’ll need a new shirt, huh?" I said, gesturing to his now stained white button-up.

"Yeah, I suppose so. Let’s go to my room really quick. And then we’ll head out. Sound good?"

"Sure."

He walked past me; not looking at me, and quickly opened the kitchen doors, holding them open for me as I walked through. The lights were still off, and as we walked down the hall side by side, I realized… we were alone. My mind started thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts I didn’t know I possessed about Alec. Well, that wasn’t true. It was hard not to think those things about him. He looked particularly handsome tonight. He’d brushed his hair back, and he had a thin shadow of scruff; he’d shaved recently but it had grown out just the perfect amount. He was still wearing a white button-up and black trousers. He had on black dress shoes. He looked… really good. The suit accentuated his muscular build, and it was slim-fitting, giving him a very modern, cool vibe. I couldn’t help but check out his luscious butt, cocking my head ever so slightly to get a better look. But still, we were friends. Friends didn’t think about each other’s butts. I also probably shouldn’t have been thinking of grabbing Alec, pushing him against the wall, and making love to him, but I was thinking about it.
Oops.
We stopped in front of his room, three doors down from mine.

"I didn’t know you lived here," I said, gesturing to the guest rooms. What I meant to say was,
I didn’t know you were so close to me all this time.

"It’s convenient for the horses." He unbuttoned his shirt as he unlocked his door.

We stepped inside, and he turned on a dim light next to the bed. It was a man cave if there ever was one. It was bigger than my room, and it had a mini-kitchen off to one side. The bed was made, which was nice, and I noticed he was actually quite tidy, taking in the various aspects of the room. A small liquor bar with bottles of different kinds of whiskey stood on one side, and a bookshelf on the other. It was filled with books. In fact, there were a ton of books lying around. Some were stacked on his dresser, and a couple more were propped up on a small desk. On his dresser, I saw his wallet, and a picture of an older woman. I got a little closer without drawing attention to myself. It must’ve been his mom. They had the same dark eyes. Maroon curtains hung over the windows, and a leather chair stood next to the bed. It smelled like soap in here. He had three pairs of boots lined up by the door.

As I looked up, Alec took his shirt off.
Holy mother of god.
I tried to avert my eyes. The smell of the room, and Alec standing there shirtless was almost too much to take. I almost swooned. Like, literally, swooned and fainted. I clutched the doorframe as he turned around and walked into his closet. His back was broad and tanned, and it was very muscular. I imagined working with the horses everyday was very active. He turned back around with a new white shirt, and I looked down. I didn’t want him to catch me looking.

"You have a nice room," I said quietly. My voice came out mouse-like and meek.

"It does the trick."

I dared to look up again, and my heart stopped as I realized he was staring at me, looking at me from head to toe. I guess he hadn’t gotten a good look before in the dark kitchen or hallway. He kept eye contact while he buttoned his shirt up, which was some sort of cruel, sick joke in my eyes. It should be the other way around – he should be
unbuttoning
it. I looked down. I had to. This was driving me crazy. So what, he had a nice body. I could admire that as a friend. It was like the times I went to the beach with Amara and admired her perfect, tanned, svelte Portuguese body. Except that I didn’t want to jump on Amara and have sex with her on this bed, in this room.

What was wrong with me? As Alec finished buttoning up his sleeves, I kept looking at my feet because my cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Sure, he was good-looking. I’d give him that.
But I was married.
I mean, Harry had technically left me, and I was as good as single I guess. Especially after Harry’s last email. But… it had happened a month ago. Thirty-one days ago, I was making love to my husband. We were still together on paper. Just three months ago, we’d toured a baby store, hoping that we would be back in a few months to stock up for the baby we were trying for. And here I was, imagining having sex with a man I’d met only a month ago, in a foreign country. Alec walked past me, turning the light off. I stepped out after him, and he put a hand on the small of my back as he led the way. I felt him lean down and whisper in my ear.

"You look stunning tonight, Charlotte."

I could have dropped my underwear right then and there.

***

We walked along the driveway to Alec’s car, close and yet not close enough. His aftershave or cologne smelled so good. I realized that’s what I had smelled in the room before.

"You smell nice," I stated. "What is that, cologne?"

"I’m not wearing anything," he explained.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh. Well, then your natural scent smells nice."

"Thank you."

We walked in silence as I tried to navigate my way through the gravel in heels. I hated heels… I only wore them when I wanted to dress up, but even that was almost too much. When we got to the car, Alec opened my door for me and got in on the driver’s side. I instinctively scooted close to him, like last time, and then realized no one else would be joining us, so I didn’t have to scoot so close. He didn’t say anything though, so I stayed put. He started the car and shifted into reverse. He put his arm up behind me as he backed down the long driveway, his face tilted towards me. It was inches from mine. It took everything I had in me to keep looking forward.

"So, how is the job going?" he asked as he flipped around and drove onto the main road.

"Good so far. I really like it. I like doing something I believe in, you know? It’s easier to do PR for a cause you can get behind."

"I get it."

"Look… I’m sorry for that time in Swansea, when I brought up your father. I didn’t mean to upset you."

"You didn’t upset me. It’s just hard to talk about him."

"I understand."

"It’s… a long story."

"Well, how long do we have to drive?"

"Ten minutes. Why?"

"You better start talking."

He smiled.

"OK. But… like you said to me that day in Swansea, promise not to judge me."

I couldn’t get enough of his accent. I’d forgotten how velvety his voice was. He never talked enough for me to fully appreciate it, and I realized he would be talking the entire way to the party. I poised myself. I was ready to listen. I wanted to listen. I felt the same way I’d felt days earlier with Mary. I wanted to savor every one of his words.

"I won’t judge you," I said, looking at him. He looked back at me. There was something there, between us, again. Trust? Understanding? Whatever it was, he seemed to calm down instantly. His shoulders slumped and he put an arm behind me on the seat.

"I’ll give you some background information first. I was born and raised near Belfast, in a wealthy suburb. My mother and father were in politics, and, as you probably know, the Northern Ireland Conflict, or what we Irish call 'The Troubles', was in full swing until I was about fifteen. You’re probably familiar with it, but basically it was a conflict between the north and south having to do with religious discrimination and the status of Northern Ireland within the United Kingdom. So, my mum and pop were involved in Northern Irish politics. They were there when Ireland signed the Belfast Agreement, or what we call the 'Good Friday Agreement'. Anyways, having grown up with such unease made me want to explore other parts of the world. I decided to graduate secondary school early and take a year off, when I was sixteen."

"I ended up in rural Scotland, way up north in the Shetland Islands. I was backpacking, and I took up at a farm for a few days to get my bearings. I ended up staying for a year, learning everything I could about horses and farm animals. I decided to enroll in the University of Edinburgh. I studied Veterinary Studies, focusing mostly on farm animals such as horses, pigs, cows, and the like. I did a five-year program and got my Masters. I finished when I was 22. I went home and saw my parents for the first time in six years."

"It was amazing. My father and I got along as well as a father and son could get along. He became my best friend, and I was sad that I had missed out on so much of our relationship because I was away from home for so long. My dad and I were driving to the market one day, a few months after I’d arrived back home. I was driving our family car, and… another car came out of nowhere, hitting us head on. Our car flipped four times. My dad was killed on impact, and I walked away without a scratch."

"Oh, Alec, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible," I whispered quietly. 

What an awful thing to happen to a 22-year-old. It was starting to make sense. His tough exterior, his hot and cold behavior: he obviously had unresolved issues. That would traumatize even the most stable young adult. I couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through after that. The pain must’ve been unbearable. I thought about how I had envisioned him as an orphan child, and while that was certainly bad, this was worse. I leaned my head back into his arm. His hand dropped to my shoulders, and pretty soon he had his arm around me while I rested my head in the crook of his arm.

"That was eight years ago. I go back home whenever I can to see my mum, who hasn’t ever really recovered. I was so young. I panicked and left, just a month after the accident. I couldn’t face her every day. The guilt was too much. My older brother, Stephen, lives near mum, so he cares for her. I came here after a friend of a friend let me know that the Parc was looking for a full-time groom. I needed to get away. So… here I am."

"You have to know that it wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?" I whispered.

"I know. It’s just hard to live with most days."

"You can’t blame yourself forever."

"It’s just… it’s should’ve been me," he said, darkly.

"No. I refuse to believe that martyr, self-pity crap," I said, honestly. "I… I’m really glad I met you, and if you hadn’t been around, I probably wouldn’t be here."

I took my right hand and clutched his arm. I squeezed twice, like my dad used to do to make me feel better. He squeezed my shoulder back twice in return.

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course. In a way, we both came here to run away from something," I said. "I think that connects us somehow."