This has to be the longest flight in the world. I’m pretty sure we’ve circled the earth twice to get my arse to London.
“What’s our ETA?” I ask my pilot.
“The same as it was twenty minutes ago,” he answers, not at all intimidated by my surliness. I grumble about firing his arse and check my watch on the way back to my seat. Another fucking hour.
“Another drink, Mr. Nelson?” Samantha, my stewardess asks. It had to be Samantha working this flight. Karma is fucking brutal.
“Yes. Please,” I add after a beat, to soften the sting in my tone.
I spent last night talking with Zinnie, and I think that is how Sam would have wanted it. I made it too easy for Zinnie to hide behind the mess, but in my gut, I know Sam understands. She would be the first to say the girls come first.
I asked Charlotte to do it with me. As much as I wanted to be what Zinnie needed, it was obvious she needed Charlotte more. And there is a part of me that thinks Charlotte needed Zinnie just as much. My heart broke for the dark-haired beauty as she told her story last night. The pain still so fresh in her green eyes. I didn’t want that for Zinnie.
Zinnie still has a long way to go, but I told her that it’s a path we walk together as a family, and that Sam is part of this family. Then I told her that I intend to marry her.
This made Zinnie cry harder, not because she is against it, but she’s missed Sam. She begged me to let her come to London, so she could make this right with Sam, but I wouldn’t let her. Finn can bring the girls over if this goes well, but until I know for sure, I still have an obligation to protect them. And I have an obligation to protect Sam.
The truth is, I don’t know what Sam is going to say or do when she sees me. It’s an excruciating reality to know you obliterated the heart of the person you love.
Sam needed me, and I left her. I made mistakes and hid behind my own insecurities as a parent. I thought, look at me, I’m such a great parent, I even let the woman who gives me breath go. Instead, I should have been parenting Zinnie through her crisis. Not protecting her from it. It’s a hard lesson to learn. The difference between protecting someone and controlling their surroundings.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Zinnie and I agreed that the reason for my trip wasn’t to be shared with Poppy. Not yet. It would be too confusing for her.
Fuck me over. When I fuck up, I really fuck up.
I was up with the sun. Zinnie hugged me until she stopped crying, then told me to go get Sam.
When Graham and Emme Taylor entered their office this morning I was waiting for them. Like so many others, Emme has already taken a liking to Sam and wasn’t going to make this easy for me. I told her I didn’t need another lecture, that I already knew I was a daft prick who didn’t deserve her. When her lips twisted, I lost my shit and raised my voice. Not a mistake I will make again. I pray for the person who finds themselves on the wrong side of Graham Taylor. That man has serious protective issues.
“Pot, kettle,” he stated when I told him as much.
“Mr. Nelson, we have started our decent,” the pilot says overhead. Clearly, I am not the only one ready to get off this plane.
The flight traffic is a nightmare and it takes and extra thirty minutes of circling until we have the clear to land. The wheels barely hit the ground before I’m standing at the door. Thankfully, my handler is used to me and has everything ready to go. The car is sitting on the tarmac, along with someone from customs to check me into the country and bypass all the lines.
It’s now five in the evening. It’s nearly dark. As the lights of the cityscape twinkle, I sit impatiently in the car until we arrive at my destination, only placated when the historic structure comes into view. The Milestone Hotel. The Taylors take care of their own.
I’m greeted by name when I exit the car. That’s the kind of hotel this is. The staff knows the wealthiest in the city without having to be told.
“Samantha Abbott’s room.”
“Of course, Mr. Nelson. Let me ring her.”
“No. Room number please. I want to announce my own arrival.”
“That’s against our…” I have to hand it to the young man behind the desk. He’s giving it his best, acting as if he will not be intimidated. We both know that’s not true, because this hotel understands power, and I have power.
The manager arrives just as I start to lose my shit and informs me that Miss Abbott was delivered to the Four Seasons for a meeting and isn’t expected back until later this evening. I instruct him to please have the bell-hand pack her items and have them ready. We will be back to retrieve them.
The lobby at the Four Seasons is larger and it takes me a minute to spot her. She’s sitting at the bar, engaged in a conversation with a man. He’s my age, maybe a year or two’s difference. He carries himself as someone with wealth does. I know she is here on business and I do not want to hinder her job, but when his lips touch her ear in a whisper, it’s clear I’m going to dig my hole deeper before digging my way out of it.
“Samantha,” I all but growl.
She’s surprised to see me, but she holds her composure. She introduces me to the man next to her, but I’m not listening. The veins in my neck pulse and I think I might now understand what Bruce Banner physically felt before he began to Hulk out. The rage flowing through me at the site of his hand on her thigh is greater than I’ve ever known.
“Kindly remove your hand from her thigh,” I say, my hands balled into fist. The man astutely reads my threat and picks his hand up.
“I look forward to seeing the numbers. If they match your proposal, we would be honored to carry the spring line.” He shakes her hand and leaves his half-eaten dinner on the bar.
“We’re leaving,” I say to Sam.
“I’m eating.” She turns back to her dinner and slowly cuts off a piece of steak. The bartender brings her a new glass of wine and she thanks him.
“I’m not playing.”
No response.
I toy with the idea of carrying her out of here on my shoulder but that’s not really my style. Instead, I sit, facing her. She doesn’t face me, but when I cross one leg over the other as if I have all the time in the world, I catch an eye watching my movements. She’s not unaffected by me, that’s for sure. Attraction was never our problem.
She chews each piece of meat longer than necessary, and by the time she picks up the dessert menu, I’ve had enough. Throwing some bills on the bar to more than pay for the meals, I stand.
“Car. Now.”
Two words. Simple, but effective. Or maybe it was my tone. Either way she’s making her way to the entrance. I take her elbow and guide her to the car. I instruct my driver to take us to her hotel.
We ride in silence. I don’t want to start a conversation that I can’t finish in the fifteen minutes we have.
We arrive, and I shoot a menacing, albeit childish, look to the boy who refused me her room number, as we cross the lobby to an elevator.
Sam’s room is quaint. It has a seating area and a bedroom. Smaller than the rooms I am accustomed to, but tastefully done.
“Why are my things packed?” she asks when we enter the bedroom.
“I had the staff pack them. We’re going to my house.”
“I assume the girls are okay or you would have led with that,” she says kicking off her shoes. Her suitcase is packed, but left open on the valet stand. She digs in and pulls out something more comfortable than the dress she is wearing. Thank fuck, because she is spectacular in it, and it’s hard to concentrate when she looks this good. She shimmies out of it, leaving herself in a lingerie set that has my dick a concrete rail.
She removes her bra, and when the breasts that I have adored since I first saw her spring free, there is no way my arousal can be hidden. She doesn’t notice, or maybe she doesn’t care. She slides on a plain white t-shirt then sits on the bed to slide off her thigh highs. Next, her knickers fall to the floor and she bends to pick them up. I wish she had her back to me so I could see her arse. Instead, the shirt billows out and I see nothing. She reaches in her case again and pulls out Finn’s sweats.
She sighs when they are pulled up and in place. She puts everything she was wearing away in her case then grabs a makeup bag of sorts. Still not a word spoken. I follow her to the bathroom where she washes her face, then brushes out her hair.
I was wrong. She should have stayed in the dress. Here, in her natural beauty, when she is most gorgeous, she’s more of a distraction.
Her facewash and lotions go back into her case, and I think she is ready to zip up and head out with me. Instead, she goes back out front, grabs a water and some chocolates from the mini-bar, and takes a seat on the couch. Her legs fold under her.
“We’re leaving. Going to my house,” I say again.
“I’m not,” she says.
“I want to talk to you, Samantha.”
“Then talk, Walt. But I’m not going anywhere.”
I fume for about, oh, three seconds, then get to the real reason I’m here. Pulling a footstool from the chair, I position myself in front of her, my knees touching the couch.
“I’m sorry.”
Shit. I’ve had almost twenty-four hours since I made the decision to come after her, and it occurs to me only now that I have no idea what to say to her. How to make her forgive me.
“I’m sorry,” I offer again, since I have nothing else.
“I know you are,” she replies.
“That was too easy,” I murmur. This woman. I’m always a step behind her.
She laughs, but it’s not the easy-going laugh of my Sam. “What were you expecting? You were right Walt. You did the right thing. The girls come first. I would never hold that against you.”
“I wasn’t right. I should have listened to you that first week. Instead of giving Zinnie time, I should have made us work this out together. I love you, Sam. I won’t choose between you and the girls.”
“I don’t want you to, Walt. Everything Mrs. Yates said at the restaurant is true. I killed her daughter. I killed my family.”
“You had an accident.”
“Texting is no different than drunk driving. I chose to pick up my phone. I chose to look at the screen. I took my eyes off the road. No one else. I’m sure Charlotte has put a tale in your head that she’s at fault because she was supposed to drive. She’s not. I am.”
“The girls need you,” I blurt, because I’m beginning to panic. There is a resolute calmness about her that I had mistaken for hurt or anger earlier. I was thinking she was going to make me grovel, make me fight to prove to her, but that is not what is going on here at all. She’s given up. She believes what she is telling me.
“Walt.” She turns and lowers her legs to the floor, only I’m right in front of her, so they part, trapping mine between hers to accommodate me. She takes my hands in hers and holds them against my thighs. “Jenny and Everett left the girls to you. They entrusted you to do the right thing. You are a wonderful father and I am so proud of the man you are.”
“The man I’ve become. Because I wasn’t this man before you.”
“You were. You just needed someone to show it to you. The girls did that.”
“You did that,” I plead. Forget arguing. I’m scared. I’ve lost her. It’s so evident in her eyes.
“Sam.” I clear my throat. “Sam, I was wrong. Please don’t do this.” The tears I struggled to hold back spill over the brim. “Please don’t. I love you. I didn’t know how to be what Zinnie needed and to be there for you.”
“Walt, I love you. With all my heart, I love you, but you were right. This will pass. The hard times fade, and you realize that you are where you are supposed to be. I don’t get a free pass because I’m a good person who made a mistake. I took the lives of six people. Six people who are no longer here. There’s no telling how many countless others I affected. A man whose soulmate was meant to be my sister, but I took that from him. A co-worker who lost their job because my father wasn’t there to help protect his. Mrs. Yates who will never have grand-children because of me. It’s a ripple. My actions caused a ripple that none of us can fathom. That’s what our decisions do. They affect others. I have to be responsible for that.”
“Sam, you can’t possibly carry that weight around. It’s destroying you. And it’s not how it happens. You fought for the boy that killed Everett. You didn’t even know him, but you fought for him to get a second chance. Why don’t you believe you deserve one?”
“It’s time for you to go,” she says. But this time she’s not so calm. There’s a hint of emotion there, and I hurl myself towards it like a lifeboat. She’s breaking. And I’m not going to stand by and let her stay glued together.
“I’m not leaving.” My face morphs into stone. This. Digging in. This I can do.
“Walt,” she pleas, her voice quivering.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Then I will.” She stands to step around me. I let her clear the foot stool before pulling my shirt off and wrapping my arms around her from behind, using her surprise to my advantage. I pull her to my body, holding her in place.
“Get off me,” she demands.
Anger. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“No.”
“Walt, get the fuck off me.”
“No.” She thrashes her body back and forth in an attempt to free herself, but I’m not giving up. I stay glued to her back. I need her to feel me. To know I’m really here and not going anywhere.
“You’re hurting me.” I’d release her in a heartbeat if that were true. The truth is, I have hurt her. Just not physically.
“No. I’m not.”
“Walt.” She tries again to free herself.
But it’s working. I can hear it in her voice. It’s seeping from her body into mine. She’s breaking. Her emotions are on the cusp and it’s exactly where I need her to be.
“I am going to marry you. So, do whatever you need to do to wrap your head around that, but I’m not leaving here without you.”
“Walt,” she sobs. Finally. She needs this, but it tears my heart in two.
“Samantha, how can you expect to teach Zinnie to forgive if you won’t even forgive yourself?” I whisper into her ear as her body begins to convulse. I release her arms and her hands cover her face as gut-wrenching sobs rip through her. The fight is gone. All that is left is her grief. I roll her over and pull her into my lap, propping us against the pillows. Her arms wrap around my back, her face buried against my neck. Even after she’s fallen into a disturbed sleep, I hear her whimper. Her body has finally given out.
I don’t move. I just hold her, pulling her closer to me. Praying my love is seeping into her, infusing her with the knowledge that she is more deserving of love than anyone I’ve ever met. She stirs briefly, and the tears are back.
“I love you,” I tell her.
Her shoulders visibly sag, and I watch her release the last regret she was holding on to.
She’s holding onto me like she’s desperate for me, and in this very minute, I vow to protect this woman with everything I have. Even if it means protecting her from herself.
My thumb runs the length of her jaw. I dose off, and when I wake a while later, she’s still asleep. The tremors have ended, and she looks peaceful.
Another hour goes by and I feel her stir. She doesn’t fight me. She doesn’t attempt to move. She just looks at me, a tear escaping down her cheek. “I killed my family,” she says.
“I know, love. I know.”