Chapter Twenty-Three
Alice
I messaged Harry over an hour ago, and although I didn’t expect him to reply instantly, the longer the silence stretches the worse it is.
It doesn’t mean he’s ignoring me. It just means he hasn’t checked his phone, or he has checked it, but he’s too involved with the golfing and lunching to break off. Which is fine. I’m not building my hopes up. If he doesn’t reply at all, then at least I have my answer.
After hanging out for a few hours with fellow students, I’m making my way back to my room when my phone goes.
Harry.
My stomach pitches and I suck in a deep breath. Here we go.
I read his message and it doesn’t make any sense. Unless he’s fucking with me? Except he’s not like that. I hesitate, midway between the Castle and my accommodation block. It wouldn’t take five minutes to reach the Castle entrance, but I still don’t get what he means.
Well, it’s not like he’ll ever know whether or not I made the trek, is it? After another few seconds of trying to figure it out, I text back.
OK
Maybe he’s arranged to have something delivered to me? But if so, why wouldn’t he have it sent to my college direct? And who sends a message like that in any case—I might not even have read it for hours so the whole five minutes thing is just weird. Then again, this is Harry and he does tend to live in his own world at times.
What’s he sent me?
I left a few personal items at his apartment, but surely he’s not had them delivered here? If he didn’t throw them out, it’d make much more sense to drop them at home.
Stop jumping to more conclusions. I grip my phone and pause at the cobbled entrance of the Gatehouse, but it’s impossible to shut my overactive imagination down.
The imposing Norman archway leads into the courtyard, but I don’t get that far. Because strolling toward me is the doppelganger of Harry Carter.
Get a freaking grip, Alice. So now I’m hallucinating. Great. I force my feet forward but can’t tear my gaze from the approaching mirage. Which isn’t a mirage at all.
I stop dead as he halts a couple of feet from me, his hands shoved into his pockets and his glasses pushed onto his head. This is crazy and can’t be happening, but in all the world there’s only one Harry Carter. Except he’s supposed to be three hundred miles away. My head’s reeling, there’s a strange, tight sensation compressing my chest, and I almost expect some idiot to jump out screaming, “Pranked!”
I hitch in a jagged breath. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs, as though the fact he’s here and not where he should be isn’t a sign of the impending apocalypse.
“Needed to see you.”
“What?” Have I fallen into an alternate reality? He’s meant to be with Oscar Jarrod today.
“Look, I was an arsehole. I’m sorry, Alice. I know you’re not interested in Lucas.”
“Lucas?” Either Harry really isn’t making sense or I’ve managed to lose a trillion brain cells within the last thirty seconds. “I’m sorry, but what?”
A tortured expression flickers over his face. “That’s why you left me. Because I accused you of wanting my brother.”
What?! is on the tip of my tongue, but since I’ve already said that twice and am none the wiser, I just stare at him in disbelief.
His brother?
I don’t even remember him saying anything like that. Wait, he did mention Lucas a couple of random times, and it made no sense. Is that what he means?
“No. That’s never—I don’t know why you’d even think that.”
Oh my God. Yes, I do. Heat rushes to my face that he so easily assumed I’d do the dirty on him, the same way Clare did. And if I’d known he was implying that, I would’ve been furious.
I wouldn’t have left him over it, though.
Seems I need to make that clear. “I’ve never been interested in your brother.”
He hunches his shoulders, and it’s obvious he hasn’t finished. “I never meant to drag you into any publicity stunt for Blitz. I don’t care how good the bloody PR is.”
Guilt chews through me. My below-the-belt parting shot did hit its mark. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that. I know you had nothing to do with it.”
We stand there, avoiding each other’s eyes, and the silence is excruciating. He traveled half the day to get here, to tell me this, but he could just as easily have emailed or phoned, or even sent a text. When I asked can we talk that’s what I meant. I never expected he’d materialize in front of me like a wish come true.
Something’s happened, and the only thing I can think of is that the prospective deal with Jarrod Holdings has fallen through. And Harry, being Harry, sees nothing extraordinary in driving for more than five hours so he can tell me face-to-face.
So why hasn’t he, then?
It’s because he’s so cut up about it. I can’t even imagine how devastated he is. Expanding into the States has always been his dream, and the possibility that Oscar Jarrod was the man who’d help him was the icing and cherry on top.
I fold my arms so I don’t do something stupid, like wrap them around him. Sure, he’s standing right in front of me, and we’re back on speaking terms, but I have no idea where we’ll go from here.
I hammer down the urge to do Jarrod physical harm and strive to keep my voice even. “Did Oscar Jarrod cancel his trip?”
“No.”
No? That can’t be right. What am I missing? “But you were supposed to be meeting him today. What happened?”
His brow furrows as though my question doesn’t make sense. “I already told you. I had to see you.”
“But…” I don’t have any more words so just stare at him in disbelief, but unfortunately he appears to be waiting for me to finish. “But I don’t understand. This is Oscar Jarrod.”
“Yeah.” He takes one step toward me. “And you’re Alice Wentworth.”
There’s a weird rushing sound in my head as my brain processes his words. He can’t be saying what I think he is…can he? “You canceled the golf match with Jarrod because you wanted to see me?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth I know how stupid they are. Whatever Harry means, it definitely isn’t that, and I tense, waiting for his disbelieving laugh.
It doesn’t come.
“Just tell me one thing. Do you want me to fuck off and never see me again?”
“I…uh…” I don’t believe this is happening. “No, I don’t.”
He takes another step toward me. “I tried losing myself in Exitium over the weekend. For the first time in six years, I couldn’t.”
“But Oscar can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” My voice is barely above a whisper, and I press my palm against his heart before I even know what I’m doing.
“No, he can’t.” Harry’s voice is rough. “He’s not you. I always thought Exitium was all I wanted, but it doesn’t mean anything when I don’t have you in the real world.”
I have the terrible certainty I’m about to cry and blink rapidly, but everything is still a watery blur. “I can’t believe you’d choose me over him.”
He cradles my face and stares at me intently. “Why not? Who said you’re not good enough? Because I’ll fucking eviscerate them.”
“No one.” What do I care if the girls at school looked down their noses at me, or my dad was too shallow to stay in touch with Mum and me? I worked my butt off to get great grades at school, I got into my first-choice university, and the only guy I’ve ever wanted has just driven three hundred miles to tell me how much he needs me. Maybe, sometimes, a girl doesn’t have to choose between having a fabulous career and a gorgeous guy.
“Does this mean we’re back together?” There’s an adorable frown on his forehead, as though he truly has no idea.
“Oh, yes. Definitely.” And then I remember. “And thank you so much for the gorgeous gift. I love it.”
His face clears with obvious relief. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be mad with me or not, but if it makes you feel any better, I got it at a bargain price.”
Okay, that’s really weird but whatever. “I’m not mad at you. It’s perfect. Tea always tastes so much better from a china cup and saucer.”
“Does it?” He sounds dubious. “Uh, you’ve used it, then?”
There’s something a little off about this whole conversation, but I can’t put my finger on it. “Well, no. I only opened it this morning. I, um, haven’t even got it out of the box yet.”
“Right.” His hands slide from my face, and he takes my hand.
“What’s going on?”
“I put something inside the teapot.”
Why didn’t I check it this morning? “Did you?” I can’t help grinning at him. “What did you put in there? Some teabags?”
“Car keys.”
“What?”
“You liked the car I got for you to drive around in before your test, so I thought I’d give it to you.”
“You gave me a car?”
“You said you’re not mad at me.”
“I’m not mad. I’m…” I flounder, because a car? “You can’t give me a car, Harry.”
“Too late.” His dimples flash, and I’m a melting mess. “It’s yours. And so am I.”
Any other objection dies at his heart-stopping confession, especially when I can’t drag my gaze from his mesmeric blue eyes. I’ve never been a great romantic, but Harry’s my fairy tale come true.
“One day,” I say, as I wind my hand around his neck, “I’m going to buy you a car.”
“And when you do, I’m not going to give you a hard time about it.” His breath is warm against my lips, and I lean into him for our long, denied kiss, but he stays just out of reach. “I love you, Alice.”
And they lived happily ever… I laugh, because who needs a fairy tale?
“I love you, too.” And our kiss is hotter than the volcanoes of Exitium.