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laurenairay · 1 year

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we’re lost and found - A. Beauvillier

Summary: “It’s always going to be you, Bells.”

One visit to Vancouver changes everything for the friendship of Anthony Beauvillier and Isabella Thornton.

A/N: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s birthday bingo!! I really hope you enjoy this Demi – I cycled through various combinations and players before I was happy with the following for Beau: trade angst, friends to lovers, playlists as a love language, “it’s always going to be you”, the morning after the night before. I haven’t written a full fic for Beau before so this was a fun challenge! And yes, I fudged the last game in the Canucks schedule for creative licensing. Happy birthday my dear 💛

Title from Wings, by Birdy. Here is the final playlist mentioned in the story.

Words: 14k

Warnings: angst, miscommunication, sappy sweetness, idiots in love.

Thank you @cellythefloshie for being the most amazing beta and cheerleader while I was writing this!

“Cabin crew, prepare for landing. Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving in Vancouver. Please ensure all hand luggage is stowed, tray tables are folded away, and your seatbelts are fastened.”

Even as her stomach swooped with the slow descent of the airplane, Isabella couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. She’d been up since the crack of dawn. Her first flight from JFK airport leaving at 7am, and with the layover stop in Seattle lasting one and a half hours, she was more than ready to be done with travelling for the day. It wasn’t that Isabella disliked flying though – she just wanted to be on solid ground. This trip was to be a mixture of business and pleasure; her work wanted her to go to an industry conference to support a couple of the Sales guys giving speeches, her marketing role allowing her that first-hand experience; the conference was scheduled from Tuesday 11th April to Thursday 13th April, but she had decided to fly in on the Saturday before, also taking a vacation day either side of the conference, to extend her time in Vancouver.

Why? Because one of her closest friends had moved from New York to Vancouver only a couple of months ago, and she missed him more than words could describe. It seemed like he felt the same way, because the moment Isabella had mentioned the conference and that she was able to take a couple of vacation days around it, he’d immediately offered for her to stay at his apartment, giving them the time to catch-up, to spend the time together like they hadn’t been able to in so long.

There was no universe in which she would ever say no to Anthony Beauvillier.

So here she was, Saturday 8th April, ready to spend some time with one of the most important people in her life. Soon enough the plane landed and made its way to the gate, allowing everyone to exit. Thankfully Isabella’s suitcase arrived quickly and her journey through security was smooth, so in no time at all she was walking out into the arrivals hall, eyes scanning the crowd of people.

And then she spotted him.

The moment Anthony noticed her too, smile spreading wide across his face, it felt like a breath of fresh air. Finally. Isabella wasted no time in rushing over to him, dropping her suitcase to throw her arms over his shoulders, Anthony hugging her just as tightly too. It was all she could do to bury her face in his neck, breathing in that familiar cologne as well as the scent that was just Anthony himself while he buried his face in her long dark hair.

She’d missed him. She’d missed him so much. Talking to him over the phone just wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t even close to replacing what it felt like to see and hold him in person. After what felt like eternity and yet somehow not long enough, she let him go, dropping her arms from around his neck, taking a single step backwards to look him up and down.

“Damn, you look good Beau! West-Coast Canadian air clearly does wonders for you,” she grinned, hamming up the compliments to make him squirm just as she liked.

A familiar light flush dusted his cheeks as he shook his head fondly. “Says the New York fashionista gracing us with her presence.”

Her tanned cheeks flushed too at his compliment, but she just laughed and batted at his chest before picking up her suitcase from where it had fallen on the floor. Flattery would always work with her and he knew it.

“I missed you,” Anthony said suddenly, smiling softly as he took the suitcase without saying a word.

Such a sweetheart.

“I missed you too. 10 weeks without you and my life is poorer for it,” Isabella said with a dramatic sigh.

Anthony blushed heavily this time, ducking his gaze, making her smile as she laughed. So cute.

“I know I’m mainly here for work, really, but I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my time with you,” she said, threading her arm through his.

“Me too. You’re going to have a great time, I promise.”

She knew she would, even just by being in his company, but she didn’t need to say that out loud.

With her arm still linked with his, Anthony guided her back to where he’d parked his car, lifting her suitcase into the trunk like the gentleman he was.

“Thank you for the new playlist for my flight, by the way,” Isabella said, wiggling her phone to show what she meant as she got into the front passenger seat.

“No problem, Bells, you know that. It’s our thing, right? It’s not like I could let you travel out here for the first time without a new list to listen to,” Anthony shrugged, starting the engine.

From the small smile on his lips, she knew he was far from nonchalant. He was right too – making playlists for each other really was their thing. When she’d started hanging out with him and Mat and some of the other Isles boys, Isabella and Anthony had bonded over their shared love of music, sharing recommendations on Spotify almost immediately. Making playlists started with creating background music for parties held at their various apartments, but, for whatever reason, over time it grew into the two of them making playlists just for each other. She’d lost count of the number of playlists she’d made him for his long travels on the road, and the amount of study playlists he’d made for her were in the dozes over all her college years. Then there were birthdays, holidays, vacations abroad as a group, and just general ‘you seem down, let me cheer you up’ playlists.

Making playlists for each other was something that Isabella and Anthony had made into something that was just theirs, and she treasured it.

“I loved the Twenty One Pilots songs you chose,” she said, smiling.

“Catchy, right?” Anthony mused, “I wasn’t sure about those Bastille songs though.”

The vibes of these playlists of important, they both knew that. But like always, he’d nailed it.

“They were perfect. The whole list was great, I promise,” Isabella insisted.

This time, his pleased smile shone through. She loved that he loved putting together all these songs just for her – the same way that she loved doing it for him. Was it wrong to cherish something with him that was hers and hers alone?

The drive to Anthony’s apartment felt like it flew by as they continued to talk about the music they’d both been listening to lately, and soon enough she was walking through the front door of his apartment.

“We’ve got a couple of hours before I need to leave for the arena and then you’ll still have a few hours before you should leave to head down too, so plenty of time for you to settle into the guest room and unpack your stuff. I’ve got a fabric steamer if you need them for your conference clothes?” Anthony explained, locking the front door behind them.

The thought he put into everything was astounding.

“I probably will need to steam out some creases at some point,” she mused, thinking of the three blazers she’d packed, “But that can wait until Monday night. How about you give me a tour?”

There was no way she wanted to think about anything to do with work until she absolutely had to. The next couple of days were all about relaxing. Sure, Anthony would be flying out for two games in California tomorrow, but that just meant she wanted to make the most of the time she had with him.

As he showed her around the two-bed apartment, Isabella could admit that it was pretty sparse. At least compared to the apartment he had in New York – but he’d only been here just over two months, so she knew she couldn’t expect him to have fully settled in yet. She could only hope that he was going to give himself the chance to settle in properly, especially since the Canucks season was technically over.

Sure, they still had four games left to play, including tonight’s, but mathematically they were already out of the playoffs. Isabella could only imagine how that felt for him. It was something that they hadn’t really discussed, if she was being honest. The trade was a sensitive subject in their friendship group, and she hadn’t known how to ask how Anthony felt about it when the trade had first been announced. But she worried about him, being out here all by himself. How could she not?

At least there were elements of his personality in the apartment, a framed poster here, photos of his family there, silly polaroids of their friendship group in New York on the fridge with magnets. It was enough to settle the worst of her concerns, and by the time she’d dumped her bags in the spare bedroom he’d declared was hers for the week, she noticed that the edge of tension had melted away from him too.

“I know it’s not much yet but…”

“But nothing, Beau,” Isabella interrupted, smiling as she leant against the doorframe, “You’ve only been here a short while – you’ll make this a home in no time.”

“You think?” he asked, his hesitance obvious.

Well that wouldn’t do.

“I know. Now come on, feed me before you need to leave for the game,” she said firmly.

“That’s the Bells I know,” he snickered.

Isabella just laughed at the accuracy – he really did know her - before sticking out her tongue at him and making him laugh. There was the smile she loved.

Isabella took a quick shower while Anthony cooked them lunch, an easy healthy chicken stir fry, and all too soon it was time for him to leave her alone. While she felt a tiny sense of trepidation about being in a new city all by herself, she knew that she only had a little time to kill before she was going to see him again anyway, so she pushed it down as much as she could.

“You’ve got the phone numbers of people at the arena to call if there’s an emergency, right?” Anthony asked, pulling on his suit jacket.

“I can 99% guarantee you that there will be no emergencies in the two hours before I leave here too. But yes I have them – so go, Beau!” Isabella giggled.

He held up his hands in surrender but smiled down at her anyway, kissing her on the cheek before he walked out the door. Isabella sighed softly, fingers rising to brush over the same skin his lips had brushed, smiling fondly. That was a particular tradition she’d missed as well, the casual affection he’d always shown her. She didn’t know if it was a Québécois thing, or just an Anthony thing, but she’d missed it all the same. It was sweet, just like everything he did.

As she settled in on the sofa, she sent out a few text messages to let various people know she’d arrived safely; some of her friends at work, Mat, her mom. She’d fully intended on ignoring the replies, knowing nothing urgent would be coming through, but when she saw 5 notifications from Mat, she opened up their text thread out of curiosity.

From: Mat Bells! You made it! Beau has been buzzing all morning. Give him a kiss from me. After he’s kicked some Flames ass obvi.

This guy. Isabella rolled her eyes fondly, smiling at the energy she could read even in his words, before biting her bottom lip. Anthony had been buzzing? He hadn’t seemed that way to her – sure, he was happy to see her, all smiles and long hugs, but buzzing? Hm.

From: Isabella I’ll pass along your kiss, weirdo. He seemed pretty chill to me?

From: Mat That’s because he got all of his crazy energy out by texting me. You know he wants your trip to be amazing. You are going to his game tonight, right?

From: Isabella If you say so Barzy. I wouldn’t miss his game for the world.

Mat didn’t text back again, so Isabella just chalked down the strange exchange to him missing his friend too. Still…no. Barzy was being Barzy, and that’s all there was to it. The two hours after Anthony left flew by, Isabella just getting herself lost in a good book, and it wasn’t long before she was walking towards her seat in the arena. Along with leaving a new Canucks jersey (with his name on the back, of course) for her in the hall closet, Anthony had left her ticket at will call, which she picked up easily after the uber she took dropped her right out front. Just as she’d requested when he had asked, she was in the bottom tier but at the back – she didn’t want anything ostentatious – and with an overpriced beer in hand, she took her seat.

Right from the start, the game was a nail biter. She cheered at the top of her lungs as Pettersson and McWard scored for the Canucks with all the supporters around her. Only for her to be left wincing when Lindholm and Kadri scored for the Flames in the third period, on the edge of her seat as the game finished out at 2-2. She could see the frustration in the team’s faces, let alone in their body language, and the moment that the shootout started her heart was pounding in her chest.

As soon as Kuzmenko scored the winning goal, Isabella leapt to her feet yelling in celebration with the crowd around her, the biggest smile on her face as the team celebrated on the ice. What a way to end of the game.

There was no rush she’d ever felt like watching a hockey game live in person - and now she was lucky enough to go congratulate her friend face to face rather than over text. Arriving early ahead of her conference really had been such a good idea. Anthony had texted her the instructions for how to get down to the tunnel to wait for him, so she followed those after the stands had emptied out a bit, not wanting to fight through the crowd. At the very least it meant she didn’t have to wait as long in the tunnel by herself, and soon enough Anthony was walking out to meet her, shy smile on his face.

Shy? No, that wouldn’t do.

“Beau! Congratulations!” she said cheerfully, loudly enough to draw a bit of attention to them and to get that familiar blush she loved to see rising on his cheeks.

“You enjoyed it then?” he mused.

There was enough hesitance in his voice to let her know he needed her reassurance, and she wasted no time in hugging him tightly, smiling as he immediately hugged her back.

“I had the best time. Talk about a nail biter!” she laughed, pulling back just far enough to look up at his face, “You know I love watching you play.”

The rosiness of his cheeks let her know that her honesty had been the right thing to say.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Anthony murmured, squeezing her slightly before letting his arms drop.

“Ooh, wait, there’s something I need to give you,” she said quickly, clutching at his hands.

Anthony froze slightly, but made the most interesting gasping noise as she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a big wet smacking kiss on his cheek.

“W-What?”

Isabella just grinned, letting go of him. “That is from Barzy.”

Anthony’s smile seemed to falter slightly before he huffed out a laugh. “Of course. That sounds like him. I’ll have to text him to say thanks.”

Isabella snickered. At least their mutual friend couldn’t say she didn’t pass along his message. That’s what friends were for!

“What’s the plan now then?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“It’s up to you, really. A few of the guys are going out for drinks if you wanted to go too? It’s not going to be a crazy one because we are flying out to LA tomorrow, but it might be fun for you to meet some of the team? But if you’re tired from travelling then we can absolutely just head back to my place,” he explained.

The hopeful look in his eyes made her smile. He really wanted her to meet his new team, didn’t he? He wanted her to like them – it was important to him, she could tell. So there was only one answer she could give.

“Let’s go out for a couple of drinks then! Maybe if jetlag finally hits we could leave early?” she suggested.

She had been awake since 3.30am after all, having left for the airport at 4am. Relaxing for a couple of hours ahead of the adrenaline of the game had helped keep her going, but she knew it would hit her at some point. But meeting his new team was important to Anthony, so she wanted to do what she could, even if it wasn’t her at 100%.

“Perfect. You just let me know whenever and we can head out,” he said firmly.

Such a sweetheart.

In the end, she lasted around two hours before she felt her social battery dipping into dangerously low levels, starting to space out of conversation even though she’d only had two vodka sodas, and in no time at all Anthony was guiding her through the front door of his apartment all over again. His teammates had been so sweet – at least the ones that she’d met tonight – and seeing the smile that all their interactions put on Anthony’s face filled her heart. Even after 10 weeks, it was clear that he’d found a good space for himself here, just as he deserved to and just as she’d hoped. Brock, Petey, Quinn, Thatcher, Travis and Ethan, along with their partners (those that had them) were all so friendly and welcoming, and she’d enjoyed telling stories about her time in New York with Anthony, as well as hearing how well he was settling into the team in Vancouver.

It had been everything she’d wanted for the first day of her visit – what more could she have asked for?

“Okay I’ve got cold bottles of water in the fridge or I picked up that brand of peppermint tea that you like,” Anthony said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Peppermint tea?

“You don’t drink peppermint tea, Beau,” she frowned, “you bought it especially for me?”

“Well, yeah, Bells. Of course I did,” he shrugged, although a light blush hit his cheeks.

This guy.

“Peppermint tea would be great,” she said softly, still a little stunned that he went through the trouble for her.

What a perfect way to wind down. The two of them sat on the sofa while she drank her tea and he drank a bottle of water, talking about all the things Anthony wanted to buy for the apartment when he came back next season (a couple of throw rugs, art for the hallway walls, a new smoothie maker, and so on). It felt like they were back in New York, like no time had passed and nothing had changed, which only made her heart pang a little more when it was eventually time to go to bed. She was flagging, hard, and he had an early start tomorrow, as much as she didn’t want this little bubble to end.

“Good night, Bells,” Anthony murmured, leaning against the doorway to the spare bedroom.

“Good night, Beau,” she murmured back, not wanting to break the moment as those blue eyes caught with her own dark brown ones.

He smiled softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of her head before he walked down the hallway to his own room, leaving her feeling like she was floating on air.

What a first day indeed.

“Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!”

Isabella groaned at the loud sound of her best friend’s voice, eyes blearily looking over to where he was standing in the open doorway.

“What?” she groaned, “What are you doing?”

“First of all, I tried knocking, like, three separate times. Second, I made eggs and bacon and toast, duh. Breakfast, remember? Before I fly out with the team?” he teased.

Oh fuck, yeah of course. How could she forget? Anthony took one look at the expression on her face and burst out laughing.

“There’s also coffee. Clearly you need some,” he snickered.

Rude. Accurate, but rude. Isabella flipped him the bird, making him laugh harder, but at least he left her alone to deal with her bedhead. Her natural curls were a pain in the mornings, especially without taking a shower to deal with them properly, so she just threw them up on top of her head into a loose bun while she headed to the bathroom. She’d already decided she would be straightening her hair for her conference, for ease through those long days, but for now this would have to do. It wasn’t like Anthony hadn’t seen her looking worse.

After quickly washing and dressing into leggings and an oversized sweater, Isabella headed out into the kitchen, wordlessly accepting the coffee mug that Anthony pressed into her hands with a smile. Mmm perfect.

“Thanks for this, Beau. You’re amazing,” she murmured happily.

Interestingly, the back of Anthony’s neck flushed red, his back turned to her as he plated up their food.

“It’s just coffee, Bells,” he said, shrugging.

No it wasn’t and he knew that.

“Okay, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and wholemeal toast, bon appétit.”

“Merci beaucoup.”

Anthony grinned at her attempt at French, Isabella just grinning back.

“So what are you going to do today and tomorrow? Your conference doesn’t start until Tuesday, right?” he asked, scooping up some eggs with his toast.

“I’m not going to do much, I won’t lie,” she mused, earning a grin, “I might take a walk around your neighbourhood today, maybe find a coffee shop or something? And then just a chilled night in, probably with take-out. Tomorrow though…hm, I probably need to do my nails before the conference so I’ll either pop out to buy some nail polish or I’ll book an appointment in a salon? If the weather is nice I might get lunch out, have a walk in downtown, see the sights? And I do want to get a bit of preparation work done before everything starts on Tuesday, ahead of watching your game against the Kings.”

She’d had enough time on her flights to plan at least a few things at least anyway. What? Isabella liked to be prepared.

“You don’t have to watch my game if you’re busy with work,” Anthony frowned.

What?

“Beau, in what world would I not watch one of your games?” she asked, confused.

“I just…I mean, I…”

He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, only confusing her further.

“It’s hard enough that I don’t get to see you anymore. Watching your games is the closest thing I have,” she said, frowning.

The look that passed across his face could only be described as devastation. “Fuck, Bells, you can’t just say things like that,” he said softly.

“Why not? I mean it, Beau. You’re one of my best friends. I love watching you play, you know that,” she said simply.

Anthony smiled slightly at her, but it looked strained. “I know you are. And I appreciate that more than you know.”

“But?” she prompted.

He hesitated for a moment, before letting out a shaky laugh and shaking his head. “But it’s too early and neither of us have had enough caffeine,” he deflected.

Isabella narrowed her eyes but took a big gulp of her coffee in response, making him laugh and roll his eyes fondly.

“Never change Isabella Thornton,” he mused.

“Oh ouch, full name. Definitely too early for that,” she said, grimacing dramatically.

Anthony just laughed louder.

In the end, the rest of her Sunday was spent exactly as she described to him. After he left, giving her a long lingering hug in the hallway after leaving her a spare key, she did in fact wander around his neighbourhood, taking in the cutesy local park and little shops, spending a couple of hours in a coffee shop with the book she’d started reading the previous afternoon. It was a good way to spend a time, nice and chilled exactly how she liked her downtime.

Before he’d left too, Anthony had given her the rundown of his favourite local restaurants, including an amazing Thai place that she knew she had to try – so that night, before taking a shower to sort out her wayward hair, she placed a takeaway order. Isabella hadn’t been able to decide between the panang beef curry with jasmine rice and the tofu pad see ew, so in the end she’d ordered both. Whatever she didn’t eat, she would eat tomorrow after her first day at the conference finished, ahead of watching Anthony play against the Kings. It was just logical, right?

By the time she had her curls plopped up in an old t-shirt, ahead of straightening them when they were fully dry in the morning, the food had arrived. The smell of both dishes was heavenly – she’d have to thank Anthony for his recommendation for sure.

Her phone buzzed twice. Beau 💛. Speak of the devil.

From: Anthony Heading out to team dinner soon. Hope you didn’t get lost wandering around today?

Isabella barked out a laugh at the very idea of her just wandering around lost and not telling him, but found herself smiling anyway. He was concerned about her – so sweet, as always.

From: Isabella No I didn’t get lost. Thanks for checking though. Just ordered myself some take-out actually!

She included a selfie of her holding up one of the take-out boxes, pulling a ridiculous duck face pout to hopefully make him laugh. It was far from the first time the two of them had exchanged silly photos, and she doubted it would be the last. While she waited for a response, she forked some noodles into her mouth, clicking on the TV to find some entertainment for the rest of her evening.

Three buzzes.

From: Anthony The Thai place! Great choice! Kinda wish I was eating that with you rather than the steakhouse we’re heading too lol. You look very cute and comfy.

She found her cheeks heating up with a light blush at his last words, quickly shaking her head to rid herself of any ridiculous thought. He didn’t mean it like that. He just didn’t.

From: Isabella Thank you for recommending the place, it’s SO good. Nah you enjoy the steakhouse Beau!

She didn’t expect to hear back from him, not with the game starting so soon, but the simple ‘xxx’ he sent her made her whole body warm. This guy, seriously.

Isabella knew how lucky she was to have a friend like him in her life. Unapologetically kind and sweet, always had her back, never failed to make sure that she was happy. Anthony was one of a kind, a true gentleman, and the fact that their chance friendship had turned into such an important part of her life was something she cherished.

She’d still been in college when they’d met, a mutual friend dragging her along to a party, and ever since that first night they’d just clicked. It didn’t make sense, not really, their worlds having very little crossover. But Isabella knew back then that all of that didn’t matter, proven by the fact that they stayed closed when she graduated college, stopping going to 99% of the parties, and Anthony stayed up in the show, proving himself night after night.

And now she was here – in his home in Vancouver while he was away, curled up on his sofa with his blanket draped around her. If anyone had told her five years ago that this is where she would be, she probably would’ve laughed – in what dreams was she going to build such a strong friendship with a handsome young NHL player? But this was her reality, it did happen, and there was no way she was letting him drift away, especially now that he’d moved so far away.

Isabella sent Anthony a text before she turned herself in for an early night, knowing she’d need to be up early to give herself the time to straighten her hair properly in the morning. It took less than 30 seconds to get a response back from him, making her laugh softly at his eagerness as she slipped into the guest bed.

From: Anthony Sweet dreams! 💛

She tried not to think too hard about how the little heart gave her butterflies.

Monday passed quicker than Isabella thought it would. Just as she’d told him – just as she’d planned – she treated herself to a manicure in a salon downtown as well as treated herself to a lunch out near the Quayside Marina, going for a walk along the waterfront before she did some prep work for her conference. It was only last minute checks of the presentations she would be part of, but she knew it would allow her to sleep easier without the what-if anxiety playing on her mind.

Along with eating the remaining Thai take-out and taking the time to straighten her thick curls ahead of the conference the next day, Isabella also watched Anthony play against the Kings on his stupidly big TV. The 3-0 loss made her ache inside, especially with how dejected the team looked even through the screen, and the moment that he texted her to ask if he could call, she didn’t hesitate to call him first.

His patented Sad Beau face made her ache even more, and it was all she could do to try to comfort him. She hated when he looked as sad as he did after this loss, the wear and tear of the season bearing down on him, but she wasn’t going to miss the chance to at least attempt to make him feel better. If she could help just a little bit, ease that sadness, then she would – seeing him look all soft with his fluffy hair and glasses in his hotel room was motivation enough.

The sweet smile she managed to drag out of him by the time they said goodnight was everything she could’ve hoped for.

All too soon, Tuesday 11th rolled around, and Isabella walked into the hotel the conference was being held in with her work laptop and an air of confidence she only partially-felt. Usually she had no problem talking to people – give her a bar or a party or a restaurant or even a casual barbecue and she could chat away for hours. But when it mattered? When the opinions of the people she talked to about their impression of her would be a deciding factor in whether her company would get their business in the coming year? It was terrifying.

But she was dressed the part, wearing her grey bodycon dress and black blazer like armour, her hair pin straight and her make-up perfect, and that gave her the boost to be able to fake her she was feeling.

At least her two Sales colleagues couldn’t tell how nervous she was when the three of them set up the company booth. By the time they were finished setting up, people were still walking in, so Isabella volunteered to grab them all a coffee. She hadn’t had time for her usual caffeine intake before she’d left for the conference – something she was definitely going to make sure she did ahead of Day Two – so this was more of an excuse to be able to wake herself up properly, to make sure she stayed at her best on this opening day.

Just as she returned to the booth and passed out the requested coffee, her phone buzzed. Beau 💛

From: Anthony Good luck today! Kick some ass!

Oh how sweet. Even though he undoubtedly had a late night after playing the Kings yesterday and travelled to Anaheim today at some point too, he was thinking about her?

From: Isabella I will do my best to kick ass, metaphorically. Good luck to you too! And kick some actual ass yourself! I’ll be watching the game tonight at yours again.

From: Anthony 💛 💛 💛

Again, his response came through incredibly quickly, making her think he was just waiting for her to text him. Why would he do that? Surely he had better things to do than wait around for her to text him?

And why did he only text three hearts?

Isabella found herself completely lost in thoughts, overthinking everything he could mean and everything he likely didn’t mean, and everything in between. It wasn’t like her to overanalyse every interaction with Anthony, but maybe it was the Vancouver air, or the fact that they’d been separated for the longest time in years. She honestly didn’t know where it was coming from, and she hated how uncertain it all made her feel. What was he playing at? Why was he acting like this, now? Was she just reading too much into it?

“Uh, Isabella?”

A deep voice to her left broke her out of her spiral, and she jumped slightly at the hand awkwardly waving in front of her face.

“Sorry Jerry, the caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet,” she said, forcing a laugh, “What’s up?”

He just laughed, taking her lie without question. “We need to go set up for the presentation. We’re up first today, remember?”

“Of course, let me grab my laptop,” she nodded.

It was simple enough to set-up and get the presentation going, if she was being honest, just clicking through the presentation slides while he was talking on stage (and their other colleague was manning the booth), and it allowed her to drift along on auto-pilot, only needing to focus on his talk and the screen in front of her. Thankfully she only needed to give input on one question he was asked in the Q&A portion, and she found herself smiling as everything finished to a hearty applause, accepting Jerry’s subtle high-five with a laugh.

The rest of the conference went smoothly, Isabella mainly able to listen to the other speeches given and take notes to feed back to the executive board while her Sales colleagues focused on schmoozing other attendees. It was one of the perks of being a marketing team member at a conference – outside of the presentations, the pressure really was off her. And at least her two colleagues this time were decent guys, rather than some of the assholes she’d been paired with before, so she didn’t hesitate to accept joining them at the after-drinks. With the conference finishing at 3pm, she allowed herself a few hours to relax and drink a couple of cocktails, but as soon as it hit 6pm she was in an uber on the way back to Anthony’s apartment. There was no way she was going to miss his game, not even if she’d had one of the best cranberry martinis she’d ever drank.

By the time the game started at 7pm, Isabella was dressed in her pyjamas was a bowl of pasta in her lap, willing the team to have a better result than the night before. For Anthony’s sake, if nothing else. And what a game it was. The moment that the buzzer sounded, ending the game with a 3-2 win over the Ducks, Isabella’s face hurt from smiling, and she wasted no time in reaching for her phone and thumbing open her message thread with Anthony.

From: Isabella YESSSSSS! Go Canucks! I’m so proud of you Beau. What a great game. 3-2 baby! I know you’re probably going out for drinks or dinner or whatever with the team. But call me when you get back to your hotel?

Isabella lost track of time while she waited for him to respond, distracting herself with washing up all the things she’d used to make dinner as well as doing her night-time facecream routine, so by the time her phone buzzed with a video call request, she was sitting on her bed up against the pillows. The moment that his smiling face appeared on her screen, something settled in her chest that she didn’t realise she was holding onto. He already looked so much happier than when they spoke the night before, and she found herself sinking against the headboard with a smile of her own.

“Hello Beau,” Isabella said fondly, “That’s the smile I like to see.”

“Hey Bells. You like my smile?”

She blushed at his teasing words, but powered through. “You know I do. Happy Beau is much better than Sad Beau.”

“I wasn’t Sad Beau.”

“You were sad enough,” she mused.

He just huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“No-one else calls me out like you do.”

Her breath hitched in his throat at his words, making her hesitate slightly before answering. “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing. You help remind me to keep the bad balanced with good, that there’s still positive things in my life even when everything feels like shit. I appreciate that more than you know.”

She resolutely ignored the butterflies flaring in her stomach, the smile spreading across her face again conveying more than enough.

“Well that’s what friends do, right?”

“Yeah. Friends. Exactly.”

The way his smile flickered at that must’ve been a technical glitch in the call, surely.

They continued to talk for nearly another hour, losing themselves in easy conversation as they always did, until Isabella noticed Anthony started yawning, even as subtle as he was attempting to be in hiding it behind his hand.

“Hey, Beau, I’ll let you get some sleep yeah?” she murmured.

“What? No, I’m fine, really.”

Isabella laughed softly, shaking her head with a fond smile. “You played an intense game today and you have an early flight tomorrow. Get your beauty rest.”

He smiled through the screen, eyes half-lidded with tiredness.

“Okay, if you insist. I’ll see you after your conference finishes, yeah?”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait,” she grinned.

“Me too. Goodnight, Bells.”

“Goodnight Beau.”

When the call ended, Isabella took a moment to indulge in the sweetness of his smile before shaking herself out of her silly thoughts. Was it so wrong to enjoy the way he looked at her sometimes? Surely not. Besides, he wouldn’t smile at her if he didn’t mean it – he’d said as such, how much he appreciated her. She could always work with that. With a b out of inspiration, Isabella grabbed her personal laptop and opened up spotify, ready to make Anthony a playlist for his flight home in the morning. He deserved to have his good mood continue, to arrive back with nothing but positivity in his veins. This was something she’d done dozens of times before, and it didn’t take her long to put together a list of songs nearly two hours long that would hopefully put a smile on his face. She put a few final touches to the playlist with Shake it off by Taylor Swift, Shut Up and Dance by WALK THE MOON, and Come on Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners, finding herself smiling at the good mood she had curated. Done. Perfect.

From: Isabella Sleep well Beau. Looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow! I made you a playlist for the flight – positive vibes only.

From: Anthony You’re the best. See you tomorrow. 💛

Day Two of the conference – Wednesday 12th – found her dressed in a pretty lilac shift dress with a grey blazer of the top, another immaculate set of armour allowing her to get stuck into the networking that was happening in between all of the speeches and presentations. Isabella mostly let the Sales guys do their thing, but she was able to contribute a bit more with people who approached their company booth, supporting the discussions by using examples of the campaigns she’d personally ran. At least, she felt confident enough with the approving nods and the handshakes exchanged with potential clients. Anthony’s flight had landed mid-morning, right on schedule, and he'd very sweetly messaged her the moment he arrived home. So instead of attending drinks again when the conference finished, she headed straight back to Anthony’s apartment. She didn’t feel bad skipping out of the social time, mainly because it mattered more for the Sales guys to be there, but also because she desperately wanted to spend her limited time with Anthony while she still could.

“Bells!”

Anthony’s happy shout combined with the way he rushed over to her and lifted her up in his arms, spinning her around seconds after she shut the front door behind her let her know she’d made the right decision.

“Anyone would think you were happy to see me, Beau,” she giggled, clutching at him tightly.

Anthony just grinned, shrugging apologetically as he lowered her back down to the floor, although his cheeks had a light flush to them.

“Of course I’m happy to see you. It felt weird knowing you were finally in Vancouver but I wasn’t actually there myself,” he said simply.

Yeah she could understand that.

“I missed you too,” she murmured, shrugging off her blazer and hanging it up on the coatrack.

Isabella raised an eyebrow as Anthony’s ran over her formal lilac dress, taking her in like he’d never seen her before.

“I suppose it’s not the clothes you’re used to, hm?” she mused.

Strangely, her words made him jump slightly, as if she broke him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“The dress?” she teased, “I know I don’t usually wear them this formal, but come on it’s not that bad.”

“No, uh, not bad at all. Definitely not used to you wearing them,” he said quickly, nodding as he blushed a little heavier, “You look great though.”

“Thanks Beau,” she grinned.

What a sweetheart. Even if he was still blushing.

“Thanks for the playlist by the way. It really helped me get through the flight this morning,” Anthony said, heading towards the kitchen.

Isabella followed him with a smile, that smile widening as he wordlessly handed her a cold bottle of water from the fridge, nudging him with her shoulder in thanks.

“It was the least I could do. Besides, the good vibes in the songs gave me good vibes too,” she shrugged.

“Great vibes – especially that last song,” he grinned.

“Come on Eileen is a classic for a reason,” she said seriously, making him laugh just like she knew it would.

They talked about day two of her conference as they chose what take-out to order for dinner – they settled on Vietnamese, including summer rolls, beef brisket phở, and tiger prawn curry noodles, settling on the sofa while they waited for it to arrive. It was only then that the conversation took a heavier turn, as Anthony suddenly looked exhausted down to his bones, and not just physically.

“What’s going through your head? What’s wrong?” Isabella asked softly, resting her hand on his forearm briefly to capture his attention.

“I feel like I failed this year,” Anthony said quietly.

What?

“I’m sorry, what?” Isabella asked, confused.

“The team didn’t make the playoffs. The season is over and I just…I failed, right? The Canucks haven’t made the playoffs for the 8th year in a row and the Islanders did make it, so clearly they were right to trade me, and I just…I don’t know what to do.”

His rant flew from his mouth faster than she had ever heard him speak before, and the sadness entrenching every word made her heart ache in the worst way. He really felt like this? Like he was a failure? How long had he been hiding his self-deprecating emotions like this?

“You did not fail. You are not a failure. You’re just one guy, Beau,” she said firmly. “You didn’t ask for this trade, not in the slightest, and you’ve made a good solid start for yourself here. The Canucks needed you and you gave them a boost of course, but it is so not on you. Do you think Petey and Brock and Quinn and literally everyone else feel like you let them down?”

“No,” he admitted softly.

“Then don’t let yourself feel like that. Yeah, it sucks. Not making the playoffs is everything you didn’t want to happen. But you guys are way too talented for it not to build up for next season. You are far too talented, Anthony Beauvillier, and it will work out,” she finished.

“Ouch, full name,” he said with a weak smile.

She just batted his shoulder lightly with a hand, pursing her lips. “I mean it, okay? You worked hard and this year it just didn’t work out. I have full faith that things will click for you next year.”

Anthony hesitated for a second, before letting out a shaky sigh.

“I might just have to let your faith be the only faith for a little while,” he said softly.

Her frown softened to a gentle smile, and she squeezed the shoulder that she batted only moments before.

“If that’s what you need, then that’s fine. My faith in you isn’t going anywhere. You have one final game to play, right? So you go out there and you show them what you’ve got. Show yourself. I’ll be watching with imaginary pompoms,” she mused.

“Can I get you real pompoms? Maybe a cheerleader skirt too?” he grinned.

That was the Anthony she knew.

“You are pushing your luck. Keep that in your dreams,” she snickered.

Interestingly, he blushed furiously at her words, making her laugh. What a reaction.

It didn’t take much longer for their Vietnamese take-out to arrive and they settled as easily as ever next to each other on the sofa, sharing all the dishes in a way that felt so effortless, a reminder of the life they led back in New York. Anthony switched on an old favourite action movie while they were eating, just something to play in the background while they ate and talked and enjoyed each other’s company, and Isabella didn’t hesitate to seamlessly transition that into cuddling on the sofa when the take-out boxes were empty.

She did ignore the butterflies in her stomach flaring up as his thumb brushed her bare shoulder though. No, tonight was about Anthony, giving him comfort, not about her ridiculous notions.

The last day of her conference, Day Three – Thursday 13th – started with Anthony joining her for coffee and breakfast. She knew he had no real reason to get up early with her, but she appreciated the sweet gesture nonetheless. As she caught an uber over to the hotel conference hall, her mind was reeling from the sleepy smiles he sent her way, even more so with the soft parting kiss he pressed to her cheek as she said goodbye to him.

Why now? Why were all the feelings she’d fought so hard to bury surfacing out now?

But Isabella didn’t have time to get lost in her thoughts. She wouldn’t let herself – couldn’t let herself. No, all she allowed herself to do was to brush her shaky hands down her navy blue sheath dress and matching navy blazer as she walked into the hotel before she threw up her confident walls, greeting her colleagues with a practiced smile.

She already knew that the last day of the conference would be mostly final presentations and speeches, so she let them consume her, taking notes as diligently as she was able to be able to report back to her bosses. It was a blessing in disguise really, letting her work monopolise her mind, and she found herself swept up in the last rounds of networking with a genuine smile on her face. In all honesty, the conference had been a success – her Sales colleagues had garnered all of the business and attention they were meant to, and her contributions had been smooth and fruitful. That didn’t mean she stayed around for the final night of drinks though.

No, when the conference talks finished at 3pm, she caught an uber straight back to Anthony’s apartment, ready to go to the final Canucks game tonight. The game started at 7pm so she had more than enough time to shower, eat a little something while she dried her natural curls, and change into comfy jeans and Anthony’s jersey. He was already at the arena by the time she’d arrived back at his after packing up the company stand, so she caught an uber down to the game again.

Same as last time, he had left her a ticket at will call. She had asked for a ticket in the stands rather than in the box. It was just the atmosphere she wanted to surrounded by, the sight of him upclose being a welcome bonus. By the time she was heading down to her seat with an overpriced beer in her hand, it was time for warmups, and as she watched the Canucks skate out to excited cheers, she found her seat right by the glass.

Of course, of course he got her glass-side seats. Isabella rolled her eyes softly but found herself smiling anyway. Anthony always was so thoughtful, and this evening was no different. She caught his eyes as he skated past her and she waved enthusiastically at him, ignoring the looks from people around her as he happily waved back. Let them be jealous. They didn’t share the friendship the two of them had so she didn’t care what people thought of the interaction. She did snicker quietly as she noticed the obvious teasing his teammates gave him when he skated back over to them though. Bless his heart and his rosy cheeks too.

The game was a nail biter, even more so than the other three games she’d watched this week had been. For each Canucks goal she jumped up out of her seat cheering, high fiving everyone around her. For every Coyotes goal, she winced and listened to the boos around her. By the time the third period ended 4-4 ahead of going into OT, she felt like she was in an emotional wringer. This was the last Canucks game of the season; she knew how much it meant to Anthony let alone the rest of the team, so when the buzzer sounded it was all she could do to keep breathing, hoping for a miracle.

And praise Garland for his game winning goal only 1.19 into the OT, hats flying onto the ice to mark his hattrick as the arena erupted in cheers and shouts for the 5-4 win. Isabella’s hands were stinging from clapping by the time the stands started to empty, her cheeks aching from smiling, but she didn’t hesitate to go down to the tunnel like she had that first night, waiting for Anthony to be finished.

As soon as he walked out to meet her, she squealed, making him laugh as he swooped her up in a hug.

“Ahhh Beau! I’m so happy for you! Such an amazing assist!” she said, when he’d put her back down.

Anthony’s assist on Garland’s power play goal was the Canucks second goal of the game, the first of Garland’s three, and she was so proud of him for ending his season so well.

“Felt good to contribute in our last game, I will admit,” Anthony said a little sheepishly.

“See, I told you! Positive thinking!” Isabella grinned.

He just laughed, making her smile soften. He really was so cute, especially when his happiness was shining through like this.

“Most of the team are heading out for drinks again tonight, especially with the win in this last game of the season. Do you want to go?” Anthony asked her, smiling softly.

Like she’d want to be anywhere else.

“Absolutely,” she nodded, “I even brought a leather jacket with me to wear over this tank top instead of the jersey.”

“Oh perfect, I’ll put your jersey in my car before we catch ubers to the bar then, so you don’t have to carry it around,” he said, smiling.

So thoughtful.

The booths reserved in the bar were full of players, various family members, wives and girlfriends, so Isabella didn’t feel like the odd one out for the celebration of the end of their season. That didn’t mean she moved far away from Anthony though. All night they were side-by-side, and Anthony seemed oblivious to the looks he was getting from his teammates where he had his arm round her waist, where he was murmuring in her ear. With the way the drinks were flowing, Isabella didn’t care enough to say anything, to correct their assumptions, letting herself slip to a level that she usually wouldn’t with alcohol. She wasn’t drunkdrunkdrunk, not by any means, but she was far merrier than she usually allowed herself to get, clinging to Anthony in a way that she always had refused herself.

The music blared, shots were pounded back, laughter filled their group, and all throughout Anthony held her tight, his hands possessive in a way they had never been before. He held her closer than he ever had as they swayed on the dancefloor, bodies pressed close, the energy between them crackling. She let herself pretend that it was the heat of the bar not his intense eyes that had her flushed and giddy. The vodka mixers allowed her to pretend anyway, and by the time that Anthony mentioned making a move back home, much later than she thought they would, her mind was a happy haze of BeauBeauBeau. Nothing else mattered, not the knowing winks or the giggles, not the way her feet were aching, not the way she leant heavily on him as they made their way out of the bar to the waiting uber.

They were still leaning against each other as they stumbled out of the taxi at his apartment building, Isabella giggling as she waved goodbye to their driver. Anthony helped hold her up in the elevator, using the wall to prop himself up, Isabella just snuggling into his broad chest with a happy drunken sigh. This was perfect. Did he always smell this good? Was he always this warm?

They slowly made their way to his front door, Anthony holding her close in a way that wasn’t helping them walk in a straight line. Isabella just stayed clutching at him, letting him guide her, humming quietly to herself as she smiled up at him, especially as he smiled widely down at her, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. He struggled to open the front door, making her giggle like she had done getting out of the taxi, and he pressed his finger to her lips in an exaggerated shush, only making her laugh harder. This was bliss, this was heated happiness, this was…her stumbling into the doorframe and falling forward. She slammed into his chest, Anthony somehow holding her upright as he closed the door behind her, his body swaying as he tried to hold them both up.

Isabella clutched as his arms – so strong, so firm – looking up at him with wide eyes, only then noticing how close they were standing. How close he was holding her. Had they ever been this close before? Had his eyes always been that blue?

She jerked out of her thoughts as he pressed his lips to hers.

Isabella moaned softly before she could stop herself, Anthony quickly pulling away, lips red. Wow. Wow. So that was what it was like to kiss him? As she looked back up into his beautiful eyes, some of the fog in her head cleared, only to be replaced by how good that felt. She had to do it again. She had to know what it felt like to kiss him again.

It seemed like Anthony felt the same way, because one of his hands flew up to cup her head as he pushed her back against the door, a loud gasp tearing from her throat just before he took her lips in a kiss once more. There it was. This, right here. She melted into his embrace, clutching as his shirt with her hands as she hungrily kissed him back, Anthony moaning into her mouth before he slid his tongue past her lips. Her head spun as she lost herself in his kisses, her body lighting up with an electricity she hadn’t felt in a long time as their bodies surged together, moaning again as his free hand slid over her ass and squeezed. Never had she felt like this with a first kiss. Never had she wanted this much.

Then Anthony broke the kiss, barely pulling away, just enough so she could blearily see that he was panting as hard as she was.

“Do you want to…?”

“Yes.”

It was her pounding headache that woke her up, paired with the start of rolling nausea. All Isabella could do for longer than she could tell was breathe in and out slowly, measured breaths careful enough to not set off a run to the bathroom that she didn’t really want to do. She knew she drank more than she usually would last night; not enough to be obliterated, no, but these were the consequences that always reminded her why she had her alcohol limits. Her head feeling like it was going to crack in two, her stomach clenching over and over, her bare body clammy and chilled in the early morning air.

Wait, what?

Bare body. She was naked? What?

The moment that her mind processed the new information, the end of the evening caught up with her, reminding her exactly what had happened. Clutching hands, clashing lips, heated breath, stinging bites, pleasure like she’d never felt before. Anthony filling her, surrounding her, moaning out her name as she cried out his. Fuck.

Oh fuck what had she done? Tears stung at her eyes, clouding her gaze as she slowly glanced over her shoulder, carefully so as not to make her nausea worse…and there he was, just as naked as she was. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle any sounds that might escape her, glad she’d done so as the arm she hadn’t noticed draped over her waist tightened slightly with her minor movement.

She’d ruined everything. Everything. How could she have been so stupid to give in to her desires for him? How could anything ever be the same again between them?

Tears finally trickled down her cheeks as Anthony huffed a breath that ruffled her curls, his legs shifting enough to slot one of them between hers. As she cried, biting her bottom lip to muffle her quiet sobs, her headache came back with full force, throbbing like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was all Isabella could do to close her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, hoping that when she woke up again that all of this would disappear. A stupid aimless hope, she knew that, but it was all she could cling to.

She drifted in and out of sleep as the hours went on, head pounding and swimming enough that she couldn’t wake herself up fully let alone move, but by the time that the midday sun filtered through the curtains she knew she couldn’t avoid getting out of bed anymore.

Just as she was gathering the courage to remove his arm from her waist, that arm tightened again, pulling her roughly back against his bare body, making her gasp loud enough for Anthony to flinch -and quickly shoot back across the bed as he woke up in alarm.

“Shit. Shit, Bells…”

Isabella let out a shaky breath before sitting upright, clutching the bedsheets to her chest in a poor attempt at modesty.

“Hi Beau,” she said with a watery smile.

She knew her smile looked as fake as it felt by the way that Anthony’s face fell. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at a loss for words, so she stayed silent too. There was nothing she could say to make this situation better, she knew that. And it wasn’t like she even knew what to say either. Everything she had worked so hard to prevent, the loss of their friendship being the main part, was for nothing. This was the beginning of the end – and by the way he wouldn’t look at her, she felt it in her bones as a certainty.

“I…”

She cut herself off, swallowing heavily to stop the lump rising in her throat as Anthony closed his eyes briefly. Fuck. Fuck.

“I’m going to shower. And pack all my stuff,” she eventually managed to say.

That, at least, made Anthony finally look over at her.

“What?”

She cleared her throat, willing herself not to cry at the intensity in his beautiful blue eyes.

“I fly home tomorrow, and I haven’t packed yet. There’s only this afternoon left to do it, and seeing as I have to be at the airport by 6.30am, I really don’t want to be packing last minute tomorrow morning,” she said as calmly as she could.

“Bells, wait, please,” he murmured.

She forced a polite smile on her face, hating that he winced when he saw it, hating that it was necessary to make her feel even a little bit of normality.

“And I think I’ll book a taxi to take me to the airport too, as it’s early,” she finished.

Rather than Anthony taking her, as they’d agreed previously. Before this clusterfuck ending of their friendship.

“No,” he said sharply.

“What?” she said, bland masking failing a little.

“I’ll still drive you to the airport,” he said.

Why? Why would he want to do that?

“You don’t have to,” she said, voice cracking.

“I want to,” Anthony said, shaking his head, “Please, Bells.”

The desperation in his voice made her heart ache as much as it confused her. Why was he so insistent? Why did he want to do this?

“Sure.”

The relief in Anthony’s eyes only confused her more.

Friday was possibly the most awkward day she’d ever spent in Anthony’s company. Isabella had managed to make it through her shower with shaky legs, eventually sliding down the wall to huddle on the shower floor, the sound of the shower muffling her crying enough for Anthony to leave her in peace as he caught an uber back to the arena to collect his car. Even when he arrived back, he still left her alone to pack all her things scattered around the guest room, which she somehow managed to stretch out into taking two hours. The rest of the day had been spent avoiding him as much as possible, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa while they ate pizza that night, neither one of them wanting to cook for obvious reasons, and she had claimed an early night for her early start the next day.

But it had taken so long for her to fall asleep, her mind not shutting off, overthinking every little interaction the two of them had that day, so by the time her alarm went off at 5am she was even more exhausted than the day before. Still, she knew she couldn’t delay the inevitable, and got up to leave Anthony for what she feared would be the last time.

Because that was where this was heading, wasn’t it? Everything between them – their friendship, their closeness, all that they shared – had been ruined the moment she stepped into his bedroom in an alcohol-fuelled lust haze. Neither of them had made the step forward yesterday to do anything about their dwindling friendship, and now…now it was too late.

Her flight from Vancouver was due to leave at 8.35am, with her due to land in LaGuardia at 8pm, having one stop for connecting flight in Denver for 1.45hrs. Her company had booked flights for the cheapest options available; the timings and airports weren’t her choice at all, but in this moment, the early flight was some kind of blessing.

Unsurprisingly, their drive to airport was quiet. Isabella didn’t even have a coffee mug to distract herself with, not wanting the caffeine in this jittery body before she ate something a little later, so the time in the car with him felt like it dragged. That aching feeling only dragged out when Anthony paid $5.00 for the parkade and walked her to the main departures doors.

“So I guess this is goodbye,” Anthony murmured, handing her the suitcase he wheeled over from the car for her.

Why did that hurt so much more than she thought it would?

“I guess so,” she said softly, clutching at her handbag like it was a lifeline.

Without warning, Anthony stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Isabella couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped her throat, and she found herself hugging him back just as tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, trying not to tremble at the close contact. She could feel his face pressing into her curls, his breathing shaky like he was trying not to cry, and she desperately willed herself not to cry either when tears stung her eyes. This wasn’t fair. How had everything boiled down to this, after all their years of friendship? How was everything over?

She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t cling onto him when she knew that any moment she would have to let him go for real. So, Isabella found the strength to unclench her hands from his shirt, taking the step backwards that she didn’t want to take. Hundreds of words flew around her head, everything she wanted to say to him that she didn’t know how to voice. And it looked like he wanted to say something too, lips parting and hand raising towards her…until his hand dropped back to his side and he took a proper step backwards, clearing his throat.

A little bit of her died inside at the misery in his eyes.

Was this really goodbye forever?

“Have a safe flight. Let me know when you land?” Anthony said softly.

“It won’t be for nearly 9 hours,” she said, hesitating.

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, “Please?”

She just sighed, nodding. “Yeah, of course Beau.”

He smiled in response, but it just looked sad to her. As sad as the emptiness in his eyes. But before she could say anything to change his expression even the slightest bit, a big shuttle bus pulled up and a group of loud people stepped out, ruining the last chance. Their last chance?

It was all Isabella could to do smile sadly at him as she walked into the airport.

Her flight was restless – she was too awake to sleep but too caught up in her thoughts to read a book or watch a movie. If she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t even remember what she ate. If she ate. All she was able to do, as if punishing herself further, was to put her headphones over her ears to drown the world out and listen to the playlist he had made her for her original flight out, silently crying the whole time.

Her seatmate hadn’t noticed the way she was falling apart next to her.

Eventually she had to face reality as her plane landed in LaGuardia. It would do no good for her heart if she didn’t text Anthony as he’d asked her to, so she pulled out her phone as she waited for the plane to start disembarking.

From: Isabella Hey, just landed.

It was short and to the point, but it was all she could manage while she felt like a dried-out husk. Somehow, tears stung at her eyes when he immediately messaged back, like he was waiting for her in a way that made no sense.

From: Anthony Thank you for letting me know. I hope your flight was okay.

Was that concern? Was that politeness? She couldn’t figure it out in her exhausted state so she just exited out of their conversation and put her phone away. That was a problem for another day. All she could manage right now was standing up out of her seat and shuffling off the plane. Everything else could wait for tomorrow. It would have to.

Seven days. Seven days passed without a word from Anthony. This was the longest they’d ever gone without speaking, the time stretching out like an impossible chasm. She knew she could’ve responded to his message after her flight, but she hadn’t known what to say, and a couple of days later it felt too late to respond to that particular thread of conversation. But Anthony hadn’t contacted her again either. Maybe it really had been politeness, his comment on her journey, but if it wasn’t then she didn’t really know what to think.

All she knew was that the longer she didn’t text him and the longer that he didn’t text her, she felt like her fragile heart was crumbling, and she didn’t know how to salvage any of it – if anything could be salvaged at all.

Her body ached, the loss of contact with him feeling like a missing limb. She hadn’t felt heartbreak like this before, not with any ex-boyfriends, and this time it was all her fault anyway. Maybe she deserved to feel this empty, this aching. It was all she could do to trudge forward on auto-pilot, trying to get back into her routine as a desperate attempt to cling onto some form of normality. By the time Saturday 22nd rolled around though, she was done. Without work to distract her like it had all week, Isabella knew she needed to get out of her apartment or she would go insane from her overbearing thoughts. So she decided to treat herself to lunch out at a secluded café she hadn’t been to in a while, allowing the walk to clear her foggy thoughts, and by the time her sandwich was in front of her she felt a little more human.

“Bells?”

Isabella looked up sharply, breath hitching at the man standing in front of her.

Mat.

She hadn’t forgotten that this was the café that she, Anthony, and Mat used to all go to together. That did make sense why she hadn’t been there since he left New York though.

“Hey, Barzy, fancy bumping into you here,” she said warmly.

Mat just smiled as she stood up from her seat, wasting no time in giving her a big hug, making her laugh as she hugged him back. Clearly he had the same thoughts as her, getting out for a little while, especially considering he’d just had a run of playoff games against Carolina on Monday 17th, Wednesday 19th, and Friday 21st.

“I know we’ve texted back and forth a lot but I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since Beau got traded,” she said, smiling softly as he sat down opposite her.

But the moment that his smile turned sympathetic, she knew.

“He told you?” she murmured, smile falling.

He bit his bottom lip, hesitating, but that only made her feel worse.

“Barzy please, did he tell you what happened in Vancouver?” she whispered harshly.

Mat huffed out a sign before nodding “He did.”

She immediately felt sick, physically and mentally, her whole body seizing - but Mat quickly shook his head at whatever her face was doing.

“Bells, no, only because he’s freaking out that he’s ruined everything,” Mat insisted.

“Ruined everything?” she asked quietly, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to breathe.

“Look, I don’t know the details. And I sure as hell don’t really want to know them, that’s between you two,” Mat said firmly.

She couldn’t help but laugh softly at the dramatic grimace on his face, and Mat’s expression softened.

“He’s in a real mess, Bells. I’ve never seen him like this before,” Mat said, smiling sadly, “Did he ruin everything?”

He was in a mess? Just as much as she was?

“No, no he hasn’t,” she said with a sad smile, “I thought I did.”

“Man, you two are as bad as each other. I thought your trip to Vancouver would’ve sorted that out finally,” Mat sighed.

What? Sorted what out?

“What?” she managed to choke out.

Mat just shook his head fondly. “Everyone saw the way you two look at each other. We all thought you’d get together, although I’m pretty sure some of the rookies thought you were already dating.”

Well that was something she thought she’d never hear. What the hell?

“I just…he’s one of my best friends, you know? You’re my friend too - and you’re good for him. I want things to be back to normal between you two,” Mat said, smiling sadly.

If that didn’t break her heart even further, she didn’t know what would.

“I don’t know if they can ever go back to normal,” she admitted, hating the words as honest as they were, eyes stinging slightly, “But I don’t want to lose him. I just don’t know what to do.”

He pursed his lips, nodding as he fell silent for a moment. It was all she could do to sip at her coffee, especially as it looked like her friend was thinking hard.

“Do you like him?” Mat asked suddenly.

“W-What?”

“Do you like him? As more than a friend?”

She choked out a laugh, glancing up at the ceiling, trying to fight the tears that sprang to her eyes again. What kind of question was that? Of course she did. She’d never denied it, not that anyone had ever asked her. Anthony was her person, one of the only people in her life that she truly trusted. Of course she liked him. Hell, she was already falling in love with him at this point, she could admit that much to herself. And if Mat’s words held any truth…maybe he was falling for her too?

“Yeah. Yeah, I do like him. More than I probably should for someone who’s never heard from his lips how he feels about me,” she eventually admitted.

Mat’s face split into a smile. “Leave this with me.”

What?

“Barzy…” she warned.

“No, I’m serious, leave it with me. Do you trust me?” Mat said firmly.

“Yeah, you know I do,” Isabella said without hesitation.

Because she did. There wasn’t a malicious bone in Mat Barzal’s body, especially when it came to his friends, and Isabella was fortunate to count herself as one of them. But what did he mean?

“Then let me talk to him, okay? This will all work out, Bells,” Mat said seriously, “You’ll see.”

Hope was dangerous for her fragile heart. But here Mat was, dangling it down on a silver string.

“I really hope you’re right, Barzy,” she sighed.

He just grinned. A thousand girls would kill to have that beaming smile sent their way, but all she could think about was his blue-eyed friend on the other side of Canada.

“I’d better go – got the 4th game in our playoffs series tomorrow. But don’t be a stranger,” Mat said, standing up from his eat.

“I won’t. I’m rooting for you guys against the Canes,” she said, smiling despite the whirling of her emotions.

“Damn right you are,” he grinned.

There was the Mat she knew.

A few days more days passed without a word from Mat, or from…anyone else. She knew that Mat was busy, obviously having watched his 4th playoff game on Sunday. She’d even texted him after his 5-2 loss against the Canes, getting nothing but a crying face back which was more than she could’ve hoped for from him in this intense time. But nothing else, and she tried not to let that hope flicker away. She wouldn’t let herself get invested, not until she knew anything for sure. She couldn’t, otherwise she didn’t know if she would survive.

It took until Tuesday 25th for Isabella to wake up with a text from Anthony.

Her hands shook as she flicked open their neglected message thread, eyes stinging as she scanned his words.

From: Anthony I’m sorry that I haven’t texted you. I’m guessing you haven’t texted me either for the same reasons. I hate that everything’s gotten so awkward and distant between us but talking with Barzy yesterday gave me hope. Will you please listen to this playlist? we’re lost and found.

Isabella had already planned on working from home today but this would’ve pushed her to anyway. He’d actually messaged her. There was still hope? Anthony hadn’t given up on them after all. He’d made her a new playlist? And from the sounds of it, if he’d talked to Barzy like Barzy said he would, this was going to be something that was either going to break her heart for good or give her more hope than she knew what to do with.

Rather than opening the link on her phone, she opened up her personal laptop, clicking on the playlist we’re lost and found when Spotify was open, and quickly clicked play.

“Sunlight comes creepin' in, Illuminates our skin, We watched the day go by, Stories of all we did, It made me think of you, It made me think of you.”

As the lyrics to Birdy’s Wings filled the room, Isabella could do nothing to stop the tears from springing to her eyes. This song was one of her current favourites, he knew this. And if he’d remembered that…what else had he included in the playlist? She quickly scrolled through the rest of the list, eyes scanning every song, every choice he made, aching pangs starting in her chest at his selections.

Wings – Birdy Never Let Me Go – Florence + The Machine Hold You – Nina Nesbitt, Kodaline Wherever You Will Go – Charlene Soraia Teach Me How to Be Loved – Rebecca Ferguson Set Me on Fire – Bella Ferraro Kiss Me – Jason Walker Yours – Ella Henderson Still into You – Paramore Adore You – Harry Styles Tongue Tied – Take Me To Your Best Friends House Slow Hands – Niall Horan I Choose You – Sara Bareilles Lover – Taylor Swift Lover Of Mine – 5 Seconds of Summer this is how you fall in love – Jason Zucker, Chelsea Cutler Falling Like The Stars – James Arthur A Thousand Years – Christina Perri Take Me To Church – Hozier Next To Me – Emeli Sandé I Won’t Give Up – Jason Mraz When You Love Someone – James TW

She felt like she wasn’t breathing, couldn’t breathe, the long curated-collection sending her thoughts scrambling. Did he really feel…? Was he really saying…? Why was he only saying this now, when everything had become so fraught between them?

“If I could, then I would, I’d go wherever you will go.”

The Charlene Soraia cover, another favourite. Fuck, he really had put so much effort into this, hadn’t he? The thoughts, the emotions, everything that he was feeling he had put into this playlist. Playlists were their thing, and the fact that he’d made something like this for her, to show her how he felt…it was everything. She let the music wash over her, tears pouring down her cheeks as she let her heart truly feel what it wanted to feel for the first time, soaking in all of the emotion that he’d poured into this playlist. This was him, and this was her, and it was them. What more could she say?

“But with you I’ve learned how to let it out, Now my heart is ready to burst, Cause I feel like I’m ready for love, And I want to be your everything and more.”

Ella Henderson’s voice continued to spill out from her laptop speakers, but Isabella couldn’t take anymore. She had to speak to him. She had to know…she had to…fuck, she needed to hear his voice. And it only took three rings for him to answer.

“Hey, Bells.”

She sniffled as a couple of tears trickled down her cheeks, closing her eyes at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Beau.”

They fell silent for a moment, just listening to each other breathe, before Anthony eventually cleared his throat.

“You’re listening to the playlist then? I can hear Ella singing in the background.”

He knew it that well, that he could recognise a faint song? How many times had he listened to these songs before he sent them over?

“Yeah. Yeah I am. I have to know…Beau, why did you create this? Why these songs?” she murmured, eyes finally opening, staring at the list in front of her.

He huffed out a laugh, sighing softly.

“It’s always going to be you, Bells. There’s no-one else for me.”

The sound that tore out of her throat barely felt human, and her free hand quickly flew up to cover her mouth, a distraught sound coming through the phone as Anthony heard her.

“Hey, talk to me, please?”

She took a shaky breath, willing herself to stay calm, to keep herself together, and she nodded to herself, steeling her nerves.

“There’s no-one else for you?” she murmured.

“There hasn’t been for a long time.”

The smile that tugged at her lips felt traitorous somehow, her mind not believing his words. He’s liked her for a long time? How was this real? As if he could sense her warring thoughts, Anthony sighed.

“I don’t know what to say to make you believe me. Please, just listen to the songs. They show everything that I can’t over the phone. Music has always spoken for us before, right? So I’m trying to let it speak for me now.”

He was right. Music had always been the thing that connected them, that said everything they didn’t need to say. Except this time, she needed him to say something – and here he was, translating himself in a way that spoke to them both.

“You really feel this way about me?” she said softly, her voice filled with wonder.

“I really do. And I’m hoping, from everything Barzy said and the fact that you haven’t hung up on my yet, that you feel this way for me too?”

Right, because she hadn’t actually said anything that was on her mind. It was all him. Just like always.

“Yeah, Beau, I do. I like you so much,” she said, choking out a laugh, “I just…didn’t think you would ever feel the same for me. The last week has been torture.”

“I’m so sorry. I am so unbelievably sorry for ever making you feel like you aren’t the most important person in my life.”

She choked out a sob this time, her body thrumming, her heart aching, Anthony just making soft reassuring noises through the speaker until she was able to compose herself once more.

“I’ve got locker clear out tomorrow, and then…then I’m thinking about coming to New York for a few weeks. I think we should talk, really talk, face to face. We both deserve that much.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’d like that,” she said, a little shyly.

With further tentative plans for Isabella to join him in Quebec after he spent some time with her in New York, she ended the call, her heart full and her cheeks aching with smiling, tacky with happy tears.

Maybe she didn’t know what tomorrow would hold. Or next month. Or even when Anthony was back in Vancouver all over again. But she knew that what she felt for him was worth trying for. And wasn’t that all that mattered anyway? Anthony Beauvillier was falling in love with her just like she was falling in love with him, and she couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take her, especially with him by her side.

#my writing #anthony beauvillier fic #demi's birthday bingo #anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier fanfic #anthony beauvillier x oc #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months

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By: Alta Ifland

Published: Mar 25, 2024

Most of us have had at least once in a lifetime the experience of paradise when a place seems suddenly transfigured and elevated to an otherworldly realm. I experienced paradise in Iceland’s Reykjavik Airport in September 1991, where the plane that took me as a political refugee from Romania to the United States stopped for a couple of hours for a layover. It was the first time I had left my country of birth, and Reykjavik’s airport was my first contact with the West. I remember entering spaces that made me think of Aladdin’s cave of wonders, where under transparent glass lay mesmerizing diamond necklaces, and gorgeous saleswomen with seducing smiles inviting me to try them on; and I remember the impeccable marble-white restrooms like an alien spaceship with curious buttons I had no idea how to maneuver. Everything was clean, as if under the care of a doting fairy, and everybody smiled quietly as if life was a streak of uninterrupted joy.

I went back to Reykjavik for a literary conference twenty years later, but I could no longer find paradise. The diamond necklaces had no sparkle, Aladdin’s cave turned out to be a banal store, the women were like everywhere else, and the toilets nothing to write home about. The gap between the two experiences paralleled my first encounter with JFK Airport in New York, where—having to wait for my connecting flight to Jacksonville, Florida—I wandered for several hours among a hustle and bustle of people, stores, restaurants, buses and taxis, convinced that I was exploring the city itself. I mean, who in their right mind would imagine that they could find all of the above in an airport? It was only years later when I returned to New York that I realized that all I had seen of the city was, in fact, the airport.

These two primal encounters have left me with a lifelong love of airports, although life post-9/11 has considerably altered the experience. But the impression that our existence is made of two irreconcilable universes remained for a long time until, roughly, the advent of social media, which managed to unite the two into one indistinguishable blur and a chorus of mingled, screaming voices. Having spent my life between different worlds, I’m fascinated by the different frameworks people can place around the same events, according to the point of view given to them by their location in time and space.

As newly-arrived immigrants, my then-husband and I naturally gravitated toward other immigrants from Eastern Europe, and since they often went to church—which was, anyhow, the only socializing venue in Jacksonville (a city immortalized by Henry Miller in The Air-Conditioned Nightmare as a soul-killing locale)—we found ourselves for two years in the strange company of puritan evangelicals. After this edifying experience, my admission to an M.A. program at the University of Florida threw me into an environment that seemed completely opposite to the previous one, as if America were made of two separate worlds with two different types of people. Both types were a shock because they didn’t resemble the Americans I had known from the movies I’d seen—neither the neighbors who asked our Romanian friends to cover the non-existent breasts of their five-year-old daughter at the pool, nor my professors from the English department who joyfully professed their Communist and Marxist convictions to a roomful of sympathetic ears.

I cannot forget one professor who praised Mao’s “cultural revolution”—to this day I have no idea whether he was aware that millions had died as a result of this “revolution,” and that many Chinese in rural areas were so starved that they ate their own children.

It was clear to me that these academics knew nothing about the world I came from, which was, again, shocking, given that I knew a lot more about their world even though the country I grew up in was so isolated from the West that we used to refer to it as “outside.” I was the one who grew up in a prison, yet it was American academics who were the ignorant ones.

Growing up in Communist Romania, I read many American classics (the first book I read at eight years old was Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer) and watched countless American movies. On the other hand, my American counterparts never read any books by Romanians (though I am not arrogant enough to demand that) or by Eastern Europeans generally, and rarely watched any European movies, let alone Eastern European movies. Yet these people who were clearly ignorant about my world were not shy about letting me know that what I experienced was not “real” Communism and that they—who had never set foot in a Communist country—were much better positioned to define Communism. How was that possible?

Let me tell you what nobody teaches Americans about the part of the world I come from.

For years, whenever I drove on one of America’s ten-lane highways, it felt impossible that this world existed in the same historical era as the world of my grandparents. I don’t have any photos of my paternal grandparents because in Communist Romania very few of us owned cameras. But they have remained etched in my mind in a way that makes them immortal, eternally old, as if their dark faces had always been crossed by deep ridges—the kind of faces only Indians (as we called them back then) had in black and white Hollywood movies, their feet always bare and so thick with calluses that when they washed them at night you could see the solidified dirt like mortar between brick-like layers of skin. They never used soap yet they had a drawer full of it, every single piece sent or brought by my father from the city. For them, soap was the equivalent of expensive jewelry, which Grandmother occasionally showed me, opening the drawer with pride: “See? Your father sent them. I keep them all.”

My grandparents lived in a world in which there was no money—I mean, there was no exchange of money, save for the rare occasions when Father gave them a few coins to buy bread. I remember walking with Grandfather unending kilometers through a sea of yellow corn until we reemerged in the world of the living, and Grandfather took out a handkerchief with a complicated knot that he untied to free the coins in exchange for the loaf of bread handed to him by the store clerk at the edge of the cornfield. But this type of exchange happened rarely. Usually, we ate hard polenta, the default everyday meal of Romanian peasants. We ate it either as a substitute for bread, which my grandparents usually couldn’t afford, or else as a meal immersed in a bowl of milk, one bowl for the entire table, inside of which our spoons often met, clanking.

My grandparents lived in the same way their ancestors had for generations in that part of the world: the province of Oltenia in Southern Romania. The only thing that had changed was that they were no longer periodically invaded by the Turks. The stove Grandmother used for cooking was like none other I’d seen except in films about remote indigenous populations—an oval-shaped structure of whitewashed clay set on the ground, with an opening through which one could glimpse the burning twigs, and atop, simmering pots full of aromatic dishes. In front of the stove, wearing her long Gypsy-like dress and stirring the pots, was seated Grandmother on a tiny chair, it too from a different world—about twenty inches high, with only three legs.

My grandparents’ village is where I spent my summers until I finished high school. During the school year, I lived with my parents in a small town in Transylvania in one of the countless intensely ugly Soviet-style flats. The grade school I went to was five minutes away on foot—since first grade, we all went on foot everywhere, unsupervised, and had the apartment key tied on a cord around our neck (apparently, today’s Romanians call us “the generation with the key by the neck”). Needless to say, we came back home on our own, warmed up the food prepared by our mothers, and were responsible for the supervision of our younger siblings until our parents came home from work.

My classmates were mostly children of factory workers and public office clerks; many of these parents had never finished high school and those with university diplomas were rare. Under Communism there was almost no middle class, and for a simple reason: the majority of people who had been part of it (university professors, politicians, economists, sociologists, priests, artists, writers, journalists, etc.) had been imprisoned, tortured and murdered.

Their guilt? They were all “enemies of the people,” the “people” being defined as dirt-poor peasants and what Marx called “the “proletariat.” Neither of my parents had college degrees. My father, whose parents were illiterate, never read a book; my mother, whose father was a chiabur (a farmer who paid for the sin of once owning land by spending a year in prison and having his eldest daughter refused admission to high school), used to read and over the years acquired a small library of Romanian, French, and English classics which I read dozens of times. After I finished reading our library, I began to explore the local libraries. With my best friend, whose parents were construction workers and morbid alcoholics, we took weekly trips to a library where the books were so yellowed and old they fell apart, and returned with a huge travel bag full of books. Without any guidance, we discovered many of the great classics: Sartre, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Cervantes, Gide, Flaubert, Zweig, Twain, Dickens—we read them all, entirely unaware that they were “great writers,” because no one had lectured us on their greatness. In our isolated world, we had a great advantage over children growing up in Western countries: we could discover the world with our own minds and in our own words.

When I say we had an “advantage,” don’t imagine that I'm glorifying the “system” in which we grew up. The world in which we were reading these books had the following characteristics: long lines to buy anything, major food items (sugar, oil, coffee, flour, butter) rationed and hard to find, hygiene products (soap, feminine products, toothpaste) entirely absent, winters without heat spent with our coats on inside our homes, electricity two hours a day, a single TV channel with most of its programs being delirious political propaganda, water cut off for days and sometimes weeks. In order to survive most city dwellers had to use the black market, where you could buy a pair of jeans for the cost of a monthly salary. For reference, my parents’ incomes combined totaled about eighty dollars per month.

In school we studied French. Without anyone’s exhortation and only the help of a dictionary, I soon began to read French classics for my own pleasure: Mérimée, Gide, Zola, Martin du Gard, Dumas, everything I could find. I was the best student in my grade in French, so I decided to major in it. In order to be admitted to college one needed to pass a very difficult exam in one’s specialty, and there were only about twenty positions for French students per university with just a handful of universities in the entire country. The majority of applicants able to pass the exam were either children of university professors or students from preparatory high schools. Given these circumstances, my teachers, neighbors, and parents all insisted that I should study engineering like everybody else and told me I was crazy to even consider French. Yet I persisted and passed the exam with the highest possible grade. While in college, during an internship where I worked as an assistant French teacher in a high school, I attended a class where the lead teacher introduced French food to the students, and after several minutes of hearing descriptions of baguettes, brie, camembert, and the like, one of them fainted. For us, this food was like fiction—not only had we never tasted it, we couldn’t even imagine that we would ever see it outside of a book. We were hungry and cold all the time, yet whenever we’d turn on the TV all we'd hear was that we lived in a “golden era”—the regime’s official language—for which we’d have to thank the Communist Party and its General Secretary, Comrade Nicolae Ceaușescu. All the country’s institutions held regular meetings where everybody, using a language of thought-terminating clichés which we called “wooden language,” had to massage the ego of the “Dear Leader” who made such an era possible. In this language, Ceaușescu was a “skilled helmsman,” a “beloved parent,” and “the exploitation of man by man” had been forever abolished.

During this "golden era” of Communism, when I was barely twenty-one, I got blacklisted as a “person very dangerous for the security of the state” because I had married a dissident. You see, in Communism, the entire family paid for the deeds of any of its members, including those of the dead ones. My husband’s main guilt was that he was the brother of a famous Romanian journalist who worked abroad for one of the Western radio stations that condemned the injustices of Communism. To understand why this was considered a crime, you need to know that the first thing Ceaușescu did every day was read a report on what had been said about him the previous day.

Since his fate was already sealed and he wasn’t even allowed to go to college, my husband and a few friends tried to create a political party that would have been an alternative to the only official one. Needless to say in a country where one in four citizens was an informant, they were quickly apprehended and subjected to harsh interrogations. This happened before my husband and I met; him being too traumatized to talk about it, I found out from his parents how he had been imprisoned and cruelly beaten. After we got married, he signed a petition demanding that the regime stop the demolition of villages and churches, a project Ceaușescu had started because he realized that the traditional rural lifestyle still gave people some independence. Consequently, Ceaușescu put us under 24-hour surveillance, with a car constantly parked in front of our building. We were young and foolish, and so we made fun of the unending series of spies who were struggling to remain inconspicuous every time we went out and they followed us. Sometimes we mocked them overtly, laughing out loud as we hopped on a bus, while they remained outside, but it was a dangerous game: you never knew when an “accident” could happen.

One afternoon, an individual in a black leather jacket got out of the car parked in front of our building while holding an envelope in his hand, entered for a few seconds, then returned with his hand empty. We didn’t keep the letter that my husband had retrieved from our mailbox because it made him so furious he tore it to pieces. The letter warned that “some people” might want to hurt me badly. The police summoned me a few days later to their headquarters for an undisclosed matter, with my husband forced to wait outside. Nothing horrible happened to me that day, save for the fact that I was asked to wait for several hours while my husband remained outside, not knowing when—or if—I was going to come out. When I was finally brought into an office, the officer informed me in a performatively worried tone that “some people” wanted to hurt me, and he wanted to make me aware of this danger.

This is how we lived for about two years until the anti-Communist Revolution from December 1989 swept the dictator and his clique away.

In the first week after the dictator was killed a member of the newly formed Front of the National Salute—the revolutionary organization that replaced the Communist Party and of which my husband was briefly a member—came to our home to uninstall a microphone that the Securitate (the Secret Police) had hidden behind our bed.

It took another quarter of a century until my husband was allowed to see the file the Secret Police had on us. It contained two thousand pages of content produced through the coordinated efforts of dozens of individuals and tens of thousands of dollars spent every month on our surveillance—in a country in which the average income was forty dollars. It also included the names of the “friends" who had informed on us—some of which we’d already guessed, others, a surprise. Our Secret Police file remained open until December 1991, that is, two years after the regime had fallen, and three months after we had left the country for America.

I left the building where my parents lived almost forty years ago, but when I last visited, some of the neighbors I had growing up were still there. Imagine passing by an old man who looks twenty years older than you, and then remembering that you had a crush on him when you were twelve and he was fourteen. The grey Soviet flats have remained unchanged, but in a certain way give you the reassuring feeling that time stands still and there's a continuity between generations—something absent in ever-changing American society.

While the memory of life in the small town of my childhood is ambivalently hazy, when I remember the rural world of my grandparents a wave of nostalgia washes over me. The three-legged wobbling chairs, the haystack above the cow barn where I used to read, even the short-lived doll made of rags that a friend from across the street had taught me how to make, ephemeral as she was, is now bathed in a golden aura of longing for a lost world.

[ Photos of Alta's grandparent's home, taken during a recent visit to Romania. On the left is the cow barn where Alta used to read. ]

I sometimes look at the children of my American friends, with their room full of toys, and I know that their toys don’t make them any happier than my rag doll had made me. And I know that my American female friends, emancipated as they are from the “patriarchy,” aren’t happier than Grandmother. In all traditional societies, labor is organized according to the existence of the two sexes and this has nothing to do with anyone’s “oppression.” Men do some things, women do other things—it's simply a division of labor based on physical differences between the two, and it’s a division that can be observed across cultures and millennia. According to all statistics and their own statements, it’s obvious that many American women are in profound disharmony with themselves and the world in which they live. And this is certainly not because the world in which Grandmother lived was better—although I am wondering more and more whether it was much worse.

The first thing you need to be unhappy is to ask yourself whether you are happy or not—Unlike American women, I am convinced that this is a question Grandmother never asked herself.

Grandmother, just like her mother and her mother’s mother, lived in a way that imitated the lives of previous generations, in an entanglement with “tradition”—the dirty word that American feminists and progressives utter with so much disdain and which they translate as “oppression” and “victimization.” I often try to imagine what Grandmother would have answered had I told her that she was “oppressed” by the patriarchy in particular and society in general. I think she would have had a hard time understanding the concept. You see, it’s hard to feel “oppressed” when you have inner freedom. Aside from this, nobody in the world of my grandparents thought in these terms because in traditional societies it is shameful to be a victim. Only in a world of privilege can victimhood acquire a desirable status. I call this the law of subliminal contradiction, something I discovered by observing how Americans behave. Another example: only in a society of excess can the richest people dress in a way that imitates the homeless. In the society of poverty in which I grew up, it was shameful to wear torn-apart clothes; on the other hand, if you look at the way most well-to-do Americans are dressed today, you’d think they live on the street. Consider high fashion clothing that gives the illusion of poverty and manual labor, like mud-splashes and rips on jeans.

Today I write these lines from France, in my second exile. And many things have changed! My husband is now my ex-husband; he has returned to Romania, and I to Europe. My best friend with whom I used to explore libraries and books, and who grew up in a one-bedroom apartment with two parents, a grandmother, an older sister, and her daughter, and who at ten years old was forced by circumstances to take care of the entire household while her father lay drunk in a ditch and her mother worked on construction sites, is now a doctor and owner of a major medical lab. Unlike my American acquaintances, she never saw herself as a “victim” of anything. When I came to this country as a political refugee over thirty years ago, the thing that most impressed me about Americans was that they were very responsible and resilient. Thirty years later this country has been turned upside-down. But the truth is that the signs and the seeds of this reversal were already present thirty years ago, mostly in one particular space: academia.

The rare Marxists from back then are now the norm (although many traditional Marxists point out that, unlike American academics, Marx was never concerned with “race and gender”). They are the people who call Putin “right-wing,” as if he'd been schooled by the Republican Party rather than the Communist Party, whose Secret Police he represented as an officer of the KGB. The reason Putin is “right-wing” is because he’s a nationalist and anti-LGBT—but if these academics had read any books from my part of the world, they’d know that every single Communist country was ultra-nationalist and homophobic. In Communist Romania you could go to prison for twenty years for being a homosexual. Putin may no longer be a “Communist” because the gifts of the Capital are way too sweet, but his authoritarianism is rooted in Communism nonetheless, and his homophobia has nothing to do with being “right-wing” unless you project a Western value system onto a completely different world in which the categories of Left and Right merge.

After you’ve experienced the clichés of Communist propaganda, you can easily spot the mental structures underlying the impulse to reduce the complexity of the world down to one huge power struggle in which everybody is either an oppressor or a victim. This is why having lived through Communism has become very useful in contemporary America, and it's why the few of us who denounced the insanity of Communism when it could have cost our lives won’t keep our mouths shut now that America is losing its mind. For instance, the concept of “reparations” based on inherited collective guilt is eerily similar to the Communist practice of punishing an entire family for the deeds of any of its members, including the dead. Just like the “Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion” activists who are being paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to lecture you, the Communists created a privileged class called the “nomenklatura”—Party activists who did nothing but spread ideology and propaganda, making sure that the rest of us conformed to the official dogma. One trait of people who create dogmatic ideologies is that they never feel obligated to obey their own dogma—if they did, they would have to cancel their own privilege.

Because history is always written from one point of view, being an American academic often comes with the privilege of (re)writing history. And in an Americentric world, these academics look at everything through the lens of their own history, which they project onto everybody else. When have you ever heard academics from English departments and Women/Gender/Ethnic Studies—who have been teaching generations of students about the evils of European colonization—denounce the colonization of Eastern Europe by the Russians and by the Turks? It’s as if 500 years of history—the history of the Ottoman Empire—never existed. Or as if Russia started its colonial history with the invasion of Ukraine.

According to these academics, being European is equivalent to having a mysterious essence called “whiteness,” and I should repent for my “white privilege” and Europe’s colonial history, as if my “white” ancestors had colonized anyone and not the other way around, or as if they had enslaved “brown” Muslims and not the other way around.

Let me tell you an anecdote about how I was made to pay for my “white privilege.” You may remember the brouhaha after the poem performed by the young, black author, Amanda Gorman, at Biden’s inauguration, was commissioned to be translated into Dutch not by another black woman, but by a white person. This white person happened to be Marieke Lukas Rijneveld, who identifies as “non-binary” and is a few years older than Gorman. After a complaint that the chosen translator was not black, the translator withdrew from the project and the publisher issued a public apology—never mind that it was Gorman herself who had chosen the translator and that it’s quite likely that there aren’t many black translators who translate into Dutch and have Rijneveld’s literary skills. I know this because I had read Rijneveld’s award-winning book translated into English and recommended it on social media. When the scandal broke, many American translators—some of whom I was personally acquainted with through my work as a translator—commented on the affair online, supporting the decision to replace the white translator with a black translator. In response, I dared to share the comment of a French member of PEN, who believed that skin color should have nothing to do with who translates what. I accompanied this comment with my own: “I think that, this being a forum of translators, we should give a voice to different opinions from other languages.” I was subjected to a pile-on of virulent attacks, summoned to delete my “inflammatory” remarks, and it was made clear to me that my opinion could only be the result of my “white privilege” because I was (I'm not kidding you) a “cultural essentialist.” The cherry on top was that I was also called a “transphobe” because I had “misgendered” Rijneveld—the irony being that I was the only one in that group who had actually read and supported the “non-binary” author. I left these discussions after it was clear that I didn’t have the “revolutionary consciousness” to belong.

The fact is that nothing—and certainly not “white privilege” or any kind of “systemic” anything—is stopping anyone in America from learning languages and translating. When I was a graduate student in French at the University of Florida, my black classmate had spent time in France, just like everybody else in our program. I was the only one who had never been to France. Yet if I could learn French while believing that I would never see France because traveling to Western Europe was, for a Romanian of my station, as impossible as going to Mars, then any American—black, blue, or purple—can do it.

Privilege is a funny thing, especially in a society in which being a victim grants the highest social status. I for one prefer to assume the privilege of having experienced both Communism and life as an immigrant—a privilege America’s social justice warriors will never have—because it has taught me that you can be free under the worst dictatorship and a slave to groupthink in the freest of worlds.

#SmashCapitalism

🤡

#Alta Ifland #We The Black Sheep #communism #capitalism #smash capitalism #Marxism #late stage Marxism #Communist Party #religion is a mental illness

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brunette-barbie4562 · 8 months

Text

Uncharted (Duff McKagan X OC)

Summary: Unsure of her next steps in life, Carreen Joy "CJ" Thompson finds herself taking a job working under the Guns N' Roses bassist Duff McKagan during the Not in the Lifetime... Tour. She faces the fast-paced and foreign world of rock n' roll, touring, and groupies, as well as blossoming taboo feelings for her boss.

Chapter three is here :) There is a lot of dialogue in this one and a flashback. Let me know what you think!

Trigger Warnings: Child abuse, drug use, homophobia

May 2017

Conrad Dublin Hotel / Dublin, Ireland

CJ stood by the entryway of the hotel room, unsure of what to say or do as Axl beamed at her. His red hair was cut short, compared to the long straight hairstyle she had seen him with as a child. He looked casual in a pair of torn blue jeans and a graphic T-shirt, which helped her relax about her own laidback appearance. The room was a large suite and looked to have multiple rooms. She had walked into the living room area. She felt very put on the spot and smiled shyly back. He stood up and moved to hug her. As awkward as she was feeling, she readily accepted the hug, looking for some sense of familiarity in a foreign environment. He smelled lightly of cologne. When he pulled away, he said,

“It’s so good to see you CJ, it’s been so many years. Come sit, let’s talk.” He offered her the second armchair, opposite the one he had been sitting in. “Do you want anything? Water, tea, coffee? How was your flight? Any issues?” CJ opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure which question to answer first.

“I’m uh- I’ll just take some water, thanks.”

“Sparkling, or no?” She had to think for a moment to process what he had said. She didn’t think she had ever had sparkling water.

“Regular is fine.” He reached into a mini fridge and pulled out a water bottle and handed it to her. Beta had disappeared into another room, leaving them space and time to talk. She remembered the second part of his question and said “The flight was good, no issues. Just a quick layover in JFK.” He had taken a seat in the second armchair, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“And your pick up at the airport went well?” He looked at her with genuine concern. Other than her aunt and her aunt’s girlfriend, CJ had never had someone act so concerned over her.

“Ya, it went well.”

“Good, I’m excited you are here.” He took another sip of his coffee. “You may not know this, but your aunt was a great help to me back in the day.” CJ smirked at the thought of some of the stories her aunt had told her and said,

“I know a little bit.”

“Your aunt has kept me up to date on you and your studies. I know you’ve been thinking about going back to school.” CJ had not expected him to ask about her schooling.

“Ya, I’m just not sure about it. Graduate school is such a commitment and I’ve been trying to weigh the pros and cons. I’ve been out of school for a few years now and I feel like I need to decide. I’ve wanted to work in the mental health field for most of my life and most of those positions require a master’s degree.” He smiled at her with that familiar bright white smile that she remembered from so many years ago.

“Well, you can spend at least the summer working with us and think about it, make some money, I want this arrangement to be perfect.” He put his drink down and laced his fingers together, leaning back thoughtfully. “Ever since your aunt gained custody of you, and even before that time, we spoke frequently about you. Time and different circumstances have kept me from visiting in person, but I feel like I’ve watched you grow up from afar. Mindy is family to me, which means you are family.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “You and I are very alike in our history and the fact that you are wanting to help others means a lot to me.” She sat in silence and did not dare interrupt him. “I’m not sure what you know about me or the others.” It wasn’t until he gave her a questioning look that she realized he wanted her to respond.

“Oh, uh, not much to be honest. I mean I’ve heard your music growing up with my aunt obviously and I love it.” CJ was somewhat more aware than she was letting on, not wanting to seem eager. She was not comfortable enough to tell him that as a child, she had spent her nights lying in a cold van or a roach infested bed listening to Guns N’ Roses on a CD player on repeat at a high volume, either to drown out screaming or to try to feel some connection to the aunt she desperately wished she could go live with on the other side of the country.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to familiarize yourself,” he said with a soft smile. “You have a few days before our first show. It’s late now, you’ll meet the others tomorrow.”

“Will I be spending most of my time with you and Beta?”

“You’ll see us often, especially Beta. I don’t leave my room much when we are at hotels, it can get chaotic. So, she does most of my errands for me.” CJ felt a twinge of confusion. If she was supposed to be an assistant, it seemed that Beta had already filled that role for Axl. He saw her perplexity and said, “You’ll be working alongside our bassist, Duff. His assistant had to leave unexpectedly for a family emergency and won’t be back anytime soon.” CJ could not remember which one Duff was and tried to think back to the old pictures she had seen of the band in her aunt’s house. “You’ll like him, he’s a good guy, not an ass. He has some daughters you’d probably enjoy meeting. Younger than you, but whenever they’re here there aren’t many other girls or women around.”

“Don’t forget Melissa and Meegan.” Beta called out from the other room, making CJ slightly jump.

“Ya, them too, they’ll enjoy having you along.” He reached over to an end table and picked up a folder. He opened it and pulled a key card out of it, handing it to her. “This is your room key, we are all on this floor, your room is 803 just down the hall. Your bags should already be in there.” He handed her the folder and said, “This week’s schedule is in there, up until we leave for the next show in Spain. Duff may have other additional things going on that aren’t on there, but this is the overall schedule for everyone.”

CJ quickly scanned the paper, feeling the creeping sensation of being overwhelmed. Axl must have seen it in her face and said, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to meet him tomorrow and go over everything, but for the rest of the night,” he waved his hand in the air, “go relax, order some room service, and get comfortable, sleep-in late tomorrow.” She shut the folder and slipped it into her backpack. “Just text me when you’re awake and I can arrange for you and Duff to meet.” She pulled out her phone and had him add his phone number. When he was done, she stood up and hoisted her backpack up. While she still wasn’t completely understanding everything and needed time to process, she could feel the gravity of the situation and the opportunity she was being given. She was almost a little disappointed that she would not be working as Axl’s assistant. She had been there for about 30 minutes, and she could already sense his eclecticism and the intensity of his character, as well as his genuine care and concern for her. She never had a father figure in her life, or at least a good one that had stuck around.

“Thank you for everything,” she said, with a smile. Beta had opened the door for her, and she turned to leave.

“And CJ,” she turned back to him as he called after her. “Don’t be afraid to come hang out when you have free time. Like I said, you and your aunt are family to me. I want to get to know you.” At that, she grinned, felt tears come to her eyes, and her heart swelled.

“Definitely.”

Back in her room, CJ sat on the bed, still in somewhat of a daze. She had wiped the tears from her eyes. Her emotions had snuck up on her, as they usually did when somebody other than her aunt showed her a high level of affection or kindness. Even with extensive trauma therapy as a child and teen, it was not something she had been able to shake.

CJ let her backpack slide off her as she looked around. It was a large hotel room, not a multi-room suite like Axl’s, but still larger than a typical hotel room, or at least the ones she had been in. She stood up and walked over to the bathroom entryway, switching the light on. There was a beautiful garden-style tub that she suddenly could not get into fast enough. She turned the faucet to the highest heat possible to let it fill up as she stripped, tripping over her own feet as she pulled her shoes and pants off.

As CJ was about to step into the semi-filled tub, her phone began to ring, and she could see Mindy’s name flash across the screen. She picked it up, realizing she had forgotten to text her that she had made it in one piece.

“Are you alive?”

“Yes, I’m alive,” she said, “I just got to my room.”

“I was getting ready to text Axl and see where you were. Michelle and I were worried you know?” CJ heard Michelle, her aunt’s girlfriend, call out to her in the background.

“Well, I’m fine, everything went fine.” Before her aunt could speak CJ said, “You never told me you were so close with Axl Rose.”

“I thought you knew that.”

“I knew you were friends but he’s acting like I’m his niece or something. Talking about how we are like family. I was just surprised is all, I was not expecting such a grand welcome. Felt like he was rolling out a red carpet and the last time I saw him in person was over 20 years ago.” Mindy was silent on the other end and CJ thought maybe the line had gone dead. “Hello?”

“He’s had a hard time with his mental health.” Her aunt’s tone had dropped an octave. “I was there for him in some of his worst moments, Carreen. For a long time, I was always worried he wouldn’t make it. When he began touring and I moved away from Sunset, we didn’t see each other in person, but he’d often call in distress, needing help.” Throughout her childhood and teen-hood, CJ had never inquired about her aunt’s evening phone calls with the vocalist. “At one point, in fall of ‘96, he offered me a job to come work for him and live in LA, but I couldn’t at that time. I was at consumed with trying to track you and your mom down after she had fled. I had spent years setting up a stable life and home here in Redding in hopes of gaining custody, saving money for a lawyer and a private investigator. You were my priority, he understood that. Fortunately, he had Beta to support him in person.” CJ let her aunt’s words process and could only say,

“Wow.”

“He was a great help to me too. When you came to live with me and I had won custody, I thought I was over the hump. I didn’t realize there would be so much more. I hadn’t thought about it, I was just so happy to finally have you safe.” CJ understood that her aunt meant her PTSD. “I thought my love, safety, and warmth would be enough. But I was wrong. I didn’t know how to handle some of it, even with the professionals I had to help. I didn’t know what it was like for you. But he knew. He gave me the insight I needed to help you in the way you needed. He knew what it was like to grow up that way.” Her aunt’s words were sombering. She had processed much of her trauma in therapy over the years, so much so, that her PTSD symptoms were mostly dormant. Residual sensory hypersensitivities, some self-esteem issues, and the occasional nightmare was all that she dealt with anymore. But she had been unaware of the fact that her aunt had struggled so much in the beginning. She should have figured, but she had never thought about it.

“Well, that makes sense. He seemed to know a lot more about me then I had expected.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you cannot tell him that you know.”

“Ok.”

“I told you that your financial aid had covered all your college expenses, that wasn’t true. When Axl found out you were going to college for psychology, he paid for the entire four years.” CJ stood in stunned silence. “He insisted. He has no children of his own and he already felt invested in your upbringing, after all the help he gave me in the beginning. But he didn’t want anyone to know, he doesn’t like recognition for things like that.”

“Damn, next you’re gonna tell me he’s my dad.”

“No,” Mindy said with a laugh. “Trust me, your mom was nowhere near Sunset in 1988.” CJ had stopped wondering about who her father was a long time ago, she doubted her mother had even known. Now that the seriousness of the conversation had been broken, Mindy asked, “So, did he set you up in a nice room?”

“It is really nice,” said CJ, “We talked for a bit, he told me to sleep in tomorrow and then I’ll meet everyone else.”

“He doesn’t already have a fuck ton of work for you to get through,” said Mindy jokingly.

“No actually I’m not working under him, I’ll be working as an assistant for a guy named Duff.” She heard Mindy scoff.

“Duff? He didn’t tell me it was Duff who needed an assistant.” She could practically hear Mindy rolling her eyes through the phone. CJ laughed in amusement at her aunt’s annoyance.

“Why what’s wrong with him?”

"Nothing, he's just-" Mindy paused and didn't complete her thought. "He's sober now with a family, so I'm sure he's different."

"I was afraid you were gonna tell me he was a prick."

"No, he won't be to you. I'm sure you'll do fine with him." Mindy paused before saying, "Or you call me, and I'll take care of him for you."

“Well, that was like 100 years ago,” said CJ with a joking tone.

“I’m not that old, don’t you age me up like that.” said Mindy playfully.

“I’m hoping to catch onto things quickly for him, I don’t want to be a drag.”

“You will, just don’t forget to enjoy yourself too.”

“I’ll try.”

“Ok, well I’m gonna head over to the office to get some work done. Michelle and I are taking off Thursday to go down the coast for a little vacation, so I have some things to finish up before then. Especially now since DUFF has hijacked my trusty office assistant.” She emphasized Duff’s name with a hint of annoyance that made CJ smile.

“Ok sounds good, I’m gonna settle in and maybe order some food. I’ll text you before I go to bed. Love you.”

“Love you too.” CJ set her phone down on the bathroom counter as the call ended. Her conversation with her aunt had resonated within her. She hadn’t known things had run so deep between Mindy and Axl, but it made everything make sense.

CJ was suddenly aware of the cold air on her naked body and the tub nearly running over. She jumped to shut off the faucet.

After her bath, it had taken CJ an agonizing 30 minutes to decide what she wanted to eat from the room service menu. There were so many good options, and she was painfully aware of the expense of everything. She knew it was covered, but she felt herself weighing the price of everything as she selected what she wanted. If they were in America, she’d be able to go across the street and grab some Subway or maybe Chipotle, but she wasn’t about to leave the hotel in an unknown country to try to order something cheaper elsewhere. Additionally, all she had eaten for the past 16 hours was airport food and she needed something substantial to balance her stomach out. CJ’s growing hunger overtook her moral hang-ups about the expense of everything, and she finally settled on an appetizer of salmon gravlax, butternut squash ravioli for her meal, and crème brulee for dessert.

While waiting for food, CJ lay on the bed and flipped through television channels, not finding anything that piqued her interest. Instead, she took out her phone and decided to do some Googling. She first googled “Guns N’ Roses” and several pictures popped up. She pressed on the first one, which looked like it was from the 80’s. She immediately identified Axl Rose, front and center of the group, with his long red hair. Which one was her boss. She scrolled over onto another picture, which was much more familiar to her. It was a photo of the band, all sitting on a rug together, with Axl standing up on the right. It was the picture that was on the back of the Appetite for Destruction CD case her aunt had gifted her so many years ago. The CD and a CD player were the last things she had been given by Mindy before her mother had decided to flee California to avoid Children Protective Services.

July 1995

Mindy’s House / Redding, California

A 6-year-old CJ trembled in excited anticipation in the backseat of her mother’s little four door sedan as it cruised down a familiar wooded backroad. It was a hot 90-degree day in the dead of summer. CJ had been waiting for several months to see her aunt Mindy and return to her house in beautiful rural northern California. Her mother had been telling her they would go visit her aunt “soon.” She always told her “soon.” CJ was never sure how soon “soon” would be.

It had been about 4 months since they had last visited her aunt. CJ missed the days where she and her mother had lived with her aunt. They had lived with Mindy for about six months back in 1994. CJ had loved it. She had gotten to go to school, had all the food she wanted, and slept in a quiet, safe, and warm house. She didn’t have to wonder when her next meal would come or where she would sleep, listen to fighting or screaming, or tip toe around her explosive mother. The arrangement had gone badly when her mother and aunt had begun to fight about her mother’s increasing drug use, her lack of attention to CJ, and tendency to steal money to buy more heroin. It wasn’t long after that her mother had decided to move in with her new boyfriend in Sacramento. He had kicked them out recently, and now they were back to couch surfing and staying in her mother’s car. CJ was hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would get to stay this time. She often wished that her aunt was her mom.

The car turned off the main paved road onto a dirt road and CJ sat up higher in her seat to get a better look out the window. There were a few other homes scattered alongside the roadway and it was a five-minute drive to the end of the road where her aunt’s house was. The trees thinned on the right and finally opened up to an expansive field. The road curved along the edge of the trees, all the way up to her aunt’s light blue ranch-style home at the end. The house faced the rolling field and backed up to the forest.

As the car pulled up to the house, her aunt Mindy stepped out the front door, grinning widely. The car had barely come to a stop when CJ opened the door and jumped out. She ran to her aunt, who picked her up and held her in a tight hug. CJ hugged her back as best she could.

“I missed you, auntie.”

“I missed you too sweetheart, very much.” Her aunt gently set CJ back down. CJ’s mother approached the two slowly, a pinched look of annoyance on her face. Mindy’s smile disappeared as she looked up at her sister and her tone changed.

“Heather, good to see you.” Unable to contain herself, CJ couldn’t help but blurt out,

“Can we stay with you this time? I don’t like sleeping in the car. I want to stay here.” There was a flash of distress on Mindy’s face before she smiled softly at CJ and said,

“We’ll talk about it later. For now, why don’t you run inside and grab some cookies. I just took them out of the oven for you.” Her focus now on cookies, CJ gasped and darted in the house, leaving her mother and aunt in a tense silence.

After she had her fill of cookies, CJ wandered around her aunt’s home, going from room to room. It was your average middle class American home, but to CJ it was like a beautiful, quiet, and clean safe haven full of soft furniture, an abundance of toys for her to play with, and the delicious smell of cookies. She looked out the window at the beautiful rural landscape. The rolling green fields went on for a mile before dissolving into a distant tree line. It was a sunny day, and beyond the trees, she could see distant mountains. Everything was so quiet and peaceful here compared to Sacramento. She was eager to get outside and play in the field. The tall grass was the same height as her and it gave her a sense of shelter and peace to lay in it and look up at the deep blue sky. Additionally, there were so many little critters and insects for her to observe and investigate. Her focus was broken as she heard her aunt call out to her from the kitchen. She turned away from the window and saw her aunt standing in the doorway, holding a wrapped gift.

“I just thought I’d give you your birthday gift. I know it’s a little late, but I didn’t get a chance to give it to you last time.”

“What is it!?” Her aunt sat down on the couch and held out the package to her.

“Go ahead and open it.” CJ quickly climbed up onto the couch with her aunt and made quick work of the wrapping paper. Based on the box, she quickly recognized that it was a CD player. She had never been gifted anything so expensive or special. “Here, this goes with it.” Her aunt pulled out a small CD box. “This is my friend’s music; I hope you’ll like it.” CJ could not read the words on the front, but the picture depicted a cross with five skulls on each end. It could be any type of music, it didn’t matter. CJ finally had something that was all hers. She watched intently as her aunt opened the box for her and plugged the headphones in. The moment was broken when she heard her mother clear her throat. CJ looked up to see her standing in the doorway, watching them with disdain. CJ felt cold fear. That look was usually followed up with a beating. She jumped when she felt her aunt run a hand softly down the back of her head and say,

“Why don’t you take it out into the yard and give it a listen. I’ll get dinner started.” Never one to question adults, CJ nodded and hopped off the couch and scurried out the back door, happy to be away from her mother’s glare.

Mindy waited for her niece to close the back door before she rounded on her sister. She wanted to leap from the couch and hit her, to show her the same treatment she had been giving to CJ. But instead, she took a deep breath, calmly standing up. If this was going to work, she needed to stay calm and collected. She could not lose her cool. Her niece’s life was at stake. She cleared her throat and said,

“Why don’t we go sit down and talk, catch up. It’s been awhile.” Heather didn’t respond and continued to glare at her. Mindy didn’t wait for her response and began to walk towards the kitchen, her head down.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Heather hissed at her. Mindy paused at her sister’s words, thinking carefully about the best way to respond. “This stupid little act you’re putting on. Auntie of the year. We shouldn’t have come. I knew this would happen.” Her sister turned to leave the room and Mindy looked up at her.

“Where did the bruises around her neck come from Heather?” Her sister stopped in her tracks but did not look at Mindy.

“It’s none of your goddamn business. You’re not her parent.” There was a moment of silence and Heather finally looked up to meet her gaze. Mindy looked her in the eyes, unafraid of her sister’s erratic behavior. She was reminded of how alike they were in appearance. The same long wavy dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, heart shaped face structure. However, the healthy fullness in her sister’s face had been lost to drug addiction. Her eyes were sunken and cold, she was pale, and her face was covered in scars and acne from prolonged drug abuse. A stranger on the street would no longer peg them as siblings, even though it had been obvious when they were both healthy. Her sister continued to speak, “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing here. The cute little house, a stable job for the first time in your life, you’re not taking her.” Mindy’s entire plan to gently approach her sister about relinquishing custody was blown. Since her niece’s birth, Mindy had tip toed around her sister, realizing how poor of a parent she would be. She had initially tried to be optimistic, hoping Heather would pull it together for her child, but it quickly became abundantly clear that she wouldn’t. Mindy had not wanted to lose access to CJ, but she could no longer sit and watch Heather neglect and abuse her. Mindy took a deep breath and said,

“I’m not doing anything Heather; I want you two to come here and have a safe place to start over, without the drugs and the revolving door of men.” She looked at her sister imploringly, wanting to plead and beg. “CJ should be in school, spending time with other kids, you should be happy and healthy here with me. I want things to be how they were when we were kids. Do you remember how we were? We told each other everything.”

“Bullshit,” said Heather, “You were always mom’s favorite. I was always doing something wrong. Mom never let me forget it. And now you’re still trying to continue to be miss perfect. I am raising CJ how I see fit, it’s none of your business. I’ll do what I want with her, she belongs to me.” Mindy moved closer to her sister, and gently took her hands in her own.

“Please Heather, please stop this. Come stay here. Let me get you the help you need. I’ll pay for whatever you and CJ need. Just stop using, it’s made you a stranger. I love you two so much.” Heather roughly pulled away from Mindy and continued towards the door.

“We are leaving, this was a mistake, I knew it.” Mindy felt a flare of anger. She did genuinely care for her sister, but her primary concern was her niece. In a bitter voice, she called out after her.

“Where are the bruises from Heather? What’s your excuse this time? You can’t tell me that child “fell” on the playground, or she did it to herself. I know you have her in and out of drug houses. If you didn’t do it to her one of your boyfriends did.” Her sister turned and exploded in anger.

“You don’t know anything you stupid dyke!” Mindy was unbothered by the slur and against her better judgment, she quickly stalked over to her sister, getting up in her face, looking down on her. Mindy was 6 foot tall compared to her sister’s smaller 5’6”.

“You can give me custody, or I’m calling CPS. You are abusing her, exposing her to strangers who could hurt her. It’s a miracle she isn’t dead already. That child should be in school. At her age, it’s illegal that she’s not, and the state will investigate for that reason alone, never mind the bruises and malnourishment. I have documentation of your abuse and neglect from day one, don’t think you can win this battle Heather.” She expected her sister to physically attack her. But instead, Heather smirked and said,

“You call CPS and hire as many fancy lawyers as you want and see how that goes for you. You’ll never see us again.”

CJ was in her own world, sitting cross legged in the backyard, messing with her new CD player. She had just begun to listen to the first song on the CD when she felt a hand grab her by the upper arm and abruptly pull with enough force that she was lifted into the air. She screamed, clinging to her CD player and CD case so she did not lose it. She heard her mother’s angry voice.

“Let’s go, we are leaving!” It took a moment for CJ to realize what was happening. Her mother was roughly dragging her towards the car, and she would not be staying with her aunt. “Say goodbye, you’ll never see your aunt again.” CJ screamed and cried, fighting against her mother’s pull.

“NO, I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE! LET ME STAY!” She began to scream for her aunt to help her as her mother had pulled open the back door of the car and was trying to stuff her inside. CJ held all of her limbs out against the frame of the car door like a starfish, in an effort to prevent her body from being shoved in. A cold shot of panic and adrenaline had set in, and CJ was able to briefly shove her mother backwards. However, it was not quick enough. As she tried to dart away, she was rag dolled and disoriented by a hard punch to the face. Her vision was blurry, and she could no longer summon any physical strength in her small body to fight back. She could hear her aunt screaming in horror and protest from somewhere nearby. She was aware of being roughly laid down in the backseat of her mother’s sedan. By some miracle, she could still feel the gifts her aunt had given her clutched in one of her hands. The driver’s door opened and shut with a slam and the car was suddenly moving abruptly. CJ caught a glimpse of her aunt’s tear streaked and screaming face in the car window. She could hear her hands clawing and pulling at the locked door handle in an effort to save her. But it was too late, her mother accelerated, and her aunt’s face was gone from the window. She tried to sit up but could not. Her head was pounding in pain, and she felt faint. She could do nothing but lay there and slip into unconsciousness.

May 2017

Conrad Dublin Hotel / Dublin, Ireland

A sharp knock on the hotel door distracted CJ enough to break her out of her trip down memory lane. She quickly closed the safari app on her phone. She got up and opened the door to find her dinner waiting on a tray. She quickly brought it inside, not wasting any time opening the trays and chowing down. The food was good, perhaps some of the best she’d ever had. She got halfway through her meal before she realized she had not ordered a drink. Not wanting to mess with the mini bar, she decided to go search for a vending machine.

Duff had finished his FaceTime call with Grace and lay back on his bed for a moment in his silent hotel room, taking a breath. His divorce two years ago had put an initial strain on his relationship with his daughters. Things had slowly grown back to normal, and they spoke on FaceTime most nights, especially he and Grace. Grace had always seemed to identify more closely with him, and the divorce had affected her harder than it had Mae. The girls had yet to join him on tour and trying to coordinate a time they could both come out was difficult with all of their activities. As amicably as things had ended, he still felt a sense of guilt over his daughters that he could not shake. He loved being a father, and his girls were his pride and joy.

The room felt warm, and he sat up to get himself a cold glass of water, not knowing if the room was actually hot or his anxiety was setting in. He got a glass and filled it and then searched for ice. When he realized he didn’t have any he remembered an ice machine at the end of the hallway. Duff listened at the door and couldn’t hear anyone outside. As much as he appreciated fans, he wasn’t looking to run into anyone tonight. He cracked the door to see no one out in the hall and decided to walk out. A small room at the end of the hallway was where he located the ice machine. He was surprised to see a woman standing at the vending machine, her back to him. Her long, thick, curly, brown hair hid much of her from view. He stuck his glass under the dispenser and pressed. The machine roared to life and the young woman jumped in surprise. She turned to look at him with a flash of fear across her delicate features. He was struck at her beauty; heart-shaped face, dark brown vixen eyes, light pink full lips, taller, and a killer hourglass figure that couldn’t be hidden under her sweatpants and cropped T-shirt. She was large-chested, and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t appear to be wearing a bra. Not wanting to look at her too long, he smiled and said,

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She gave him a small smile and turned back to the vending machine. She leaned down and grabbed her soda out of the slot before walking back up the hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at her one more time, admiring her. Don’t be a fucking creep McKagan, she’s gotta be half your age. Maybe if it was twenty years ago. He had a rule about keeping partners at an age-appropriate level. He didn’t want to be seen as one of those “old creepy rockstars” who solely went after young women. Since his divorce, he had fooled around a bit, but hadn’t been serious with anyone. He hadn’t dated in so long; he wasn’t sure he knew how to anymore. He kept his high libido satisfied and that’s as far as it went. Duff finished getting his ice and headed back to his room, trying to put the young woman out of his head.

#80s music #80s rock #axl gnr #axl rose #duff gnr #duff mckagan #guns n roses #saul hudson #slash gnr

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rjmartin11 · 11 months

Text

Finding Love in the Deadliest Ways

Part Fourteen: Vermont Dreaming

Pairing: Elvis & black!female!reader

Summary: Jordee finds the love of a stranger named Elvis she met at the local park. After a week of dating, Jordee learns that Elvis is more than meets the eye. She discovers hidden secrets and finds out more than she bargained for. Will love survive?

Word Count: ?

Warnings: Dreams while traveling to a frozen destination. Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. View discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: Welcome to part fourteen.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・🧛🏼‍♂️・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Elvis drives to the airport, and it doesn't take long to get through check-in and security. Jordee and Elvis wait for about thirty minutes before boarding the plane. They have a layover in New York City at JFK. Jordee's brimming with excitement and anticipation.

"Elvis, from New York to Vermont, how long is the flight?"

"About an hour and a half, my love. We should be in Burlington in no time at all."

Elvis squeezes her hand and looks at her. She looks lovely and cute. He can't believe that she's his now and that she's his love. He's going to be with her for the rest of his life, and he's going to make her feel like a queen.

"Are you excited, Jordee?" Elvis asks.

"Can't you tell?" She asks, her leg bounces a mile a minute, and her hands quiver. "I'm sorry. I'm shaking. I can't stop."

"Hey, don't be sorry. I'm happy you're excited."

Elvis smiles and kisses her cheek, looking at her again. Her eyes are full to the brim with excitement and love.

"I can tell you're about to jump out of your seat, but just stay calm. It's all going to be great."

He smiles and leans over and nibbles her ear.

"You're gonna love it in Vermont, my love," he whispers.

"We're going to Vermont."

Jordee can't keep the smile off her face. She kisses Elvis' cheek, then they call for first class passengers to board the plane.

Jordee and Elvis find their seats and sit down. Jordee intertwines her fingers with Elvis fingers and rubs his shoulder. She places her head on his shoulder and takes a deep breath.

"Hey, Jordee, we're supposed to take off soon. Are you ready?"

Elvis holds her hand and rubs her shoulder.

"I'm so excited to get to Scotland, too. I just can't wait to see your face when you see my mother's castle. One day, but for now, let me get you to the mountains of Vermont."

"I can't wait to see Vermont. The green fields. The babling brooks. Do you have a house there?"

"We have a house there, yes," Elvis confirms. "It's beautiful, Jordee. You'll love it."

Jordee's nerves set in. Elvis told her there was nothing to worry about, but she was a bit worried. Jordee and Elvis get married after knowing each other for a week. It wasn't a paper marriage but a marriage of the heart. There were no meets of the in-laws. Would his mother not think that Jordee just stole him away? She was glad to not be meeting his mother immediately.

"Hey, I'm sure your worries are justified, but you don't have to worry, Jordee. My mother is so lovely and caring. She's going to love you because you're mine, my lovely wife."

Elvis holds her hand and smiles.

"You'll like her. She's going to spoil us, and she's going to make us with love. Don't worry. We have time before you meet her."

"There you go again reading my mind, Elvis."

"It's easy to learn your mind, Jordee." Elvis smiles and squeezes her hand.

"I know you in and out, my love. I know what you're thinking even before you'll do it. We're going to have an amazing life together. Our adventures will be wonderful, romantic, and beautiful. You'll see."

"Wow. You're incredible."

Jordee sits back as the plane starts to move. How exciting. New York City, here we come, she thinks.

"I'll always try my best to make you happy, Jordee," Elvis whispers.

Elvis leans in and kisses her. He doesn't know what else to say to her. He loves her and wants to do all that he can for her.

He smiles and looks out the window, watching the plane as it moves.

"So, can I ask a silly question?"

"Waz up, baby?"

"Can I call you something special, something besides baby?" Elvis smiles and looks at her, hoping she'll say okay.

"What do you wanna call me?"

"Well, since you called me E, would it be alright if I called you J or Jor?" Elvis asks anxiously, waiting to see what she'll say.

A big smile covers Jordee's face.

"Of course, E. Please call me either of those." Jordee grabs Elvis' head and gives him a passionate kiss. "I love you, E."

"Then, I love you too, J."

"I love you, J."

Elvis smiles, and he's got butterflies in his stomach because he just wants to be with her. They'll be in Vermont soon, and she's going to meet his.

The plane takes off, and Elvis looks at her. He's taking out his phone so he can see the time and how they have left until New York.

The plane takes off, and Jordee gets comfortable in Elvis' embrace. For the next three hours, Elvis makes you familiar with the customs of his family to pass the time.

The other half of the flight the two of them make out. A flight attendant tells Jordee and Elvis how cute you both are.

Elvis kisses her the whole time, nibbling her neck. A big grin covers his face.

"Are you enjoying yourself, J?" He smiles and looks at her.

"I can't wait to get you to Vermont! I wish my family was there for you to meet them. I want them to see us together. I want them to see how crazy I am about you."

"I'm ready," Jordee says. "When you're ready to introduce me to them, I'll be ready to meet them."

Jordee looks out the plane window as they land in New York.

"E, baby, our layover isn't long enough to explore the city, is it?"

"No, sweetie, it's only about two hours, and that's not really long enough time. But we'll be back in the skies soon. You'll love all of it."

He smiles and looks at her.

"I love you, Jor, and I look forward to being yours for the rest of my life."

"I love you, E," Jordee says, holding him close. "Elvis? In your life, was there never another girl?"

"There were certainly girls I knew and I was friends with. Once, there was one woman I was romantic with. Maybe one day I'll tell you about her, but there was no one else for me. I was never with anyone in the way I am with you. You're the first woman who's made me feel this way, and I'm so glad that I met you," Elvis smiles, not sure what else to say. "I love you, J."

"Elvis, was there a past life where we could have met?"

He smiles at her and says,

"There's thousands of timelines and universes and I believe in them all. And in one, I'm sure we've always met and I'm sure we've always fallen in love."

Elvis gives her a quick kiss.

"You're the love of my life, Jordee, my life in this world and any others. I'm meant to be with you in all of those universes and even in the next life. You were meant for me. I was meant for you."

Jordee grabs ahold of Elvis.

"You know just what to say. You beautiful soul."

Soon, they are off the plane and heading into JFK, hand and hand. They walk towards the next flight, and Elvis smiles the whole time.

"What's your mother's name? I don't believe I ever asked you," Jordee asks.

"It's a beautiful Scottish name. Her name is Margaret. She's going to love you, Jordee. She's going to be as proud of me as I am for finally getting married and my sisters. They're going to fall in love with you right away."

He smiles and puts his arm around her, and they keep heading towards their departure. As they walk towards their plane, Jordee asks Elvis another question.

"E, should we have an official ceremony with your family?"

"When the time is right," Elvis says. "Yes, we should. I think we should get married at a local chapel. It'll be small, but it'll be wonderful. I can't wait to marry you, Jordee. It'll be the happiest day of my life."

"Our. Lives, my love," Jordee corrects him.

"Our lives, our home, our love, our children... everything, Jordee. Everything is going to be just us."

Elvis smiles, brimming with excitement. He has his wife-to-be right by his side. No wonder he's walking on clouds. He nibbles her neck and holds her hand. He's so excited to be traveling with Jordee.

They head on the plane bound for Burlington, Vermont. Butterflies erupt in the pit of Jordee's tummy. She feels jittery, and she grabs ahold of Elvis's hand.

"An hour to Vermont, right?" Jordee asks.

"Yes, about an hour and a half. You'll be fine, J. We're almost there, and after that, everything is going to change. From this moment on, your life is going to be amazing. Better than you could've ever dreamed of before, and I'm so happy that we're about to go."

Elvis kisses her and grins. He's so excited.

Jordee and Elvis wait as the pilot and crew get everything together. Jordee takes the window seat. Elvis wants her to see everything.

"You're such a wonderful person, Jordee. I'm so lucky to have you as my person. And I'm sorry for the fact that I'm a little nervous, I just... well, I've never taken a woman traveling to see the country. I'm just a little stressed."

Elvis chuckles a little bit.

"You won't have anything to worry about, though, my love. You're going to love these trips."

"Good," Jordee says, stealing a kiss. She leans back, exhaling as the plane shoots off down the runway. How exciting. Jordee's love is taking her traveling. All of a sudden, Jordee begins to feel drowsy.

"Jordee, are you okay, love?" Elvis looks at her with concern. "You don't look so good, dear. Are you tired? You didn't sleep well last night."

"I think I'm going to sleep, my love. Wake me if I miss anything."

"Are you sure, Jordee? We're almost there. Come on, darling. Stay with me for now."

Elvis is worried. He doesn't want her to sleep, at least not yet.

"We have time, E. Just let me rest now. Please?" Jordee beseeches Elvis.

Jordee kisses Elvis cheek. "I'm ready..." Jordee lays her head on Elvis shoulder and falls asleep. She just needs the time to rest, and she'll be ready.

"Good sleep, dear. I'll wake you when it's time."

Elvis smiles and looks at his watch to see how long they have left. He's so glad for once that they decided on a direct flight here and not a connecting one. He can't wait until she wakes up. Jordee just dreams.

...

Jordee blinks her eyes. Waking up, she looks around the first class suite. Then she looks out the window. Jordee sees as the plane descends to the ground. She can see the beautiful landscape and greenery of the countryside. It's quite impressive considering that she grew up in the countryside of Florida.

"We're landing. I'm so excited to show you my home. I can't wait for you to meet my mother and my sisters and all my family. And of course you're going to love my castle. I hope you're all right with the time change?"

"Your family? In Scotland?" Jordee says, rubbing her eyes.

"Yes, baby," Elvis chuckles and squeezes her hand.

"If you need anything, you just let me know, Jordee. My mother is just lovely and welcoming. I have absolutely no doubt that she and the rest of them are going to love you," He smiles and leans closer to her.

"Just relax and enjoy yourself, dear. These next few days are going to be the best of your life, and it's just starting."

Jordee leans her head on Elvis, where their faces are touching.

"I can't wait, E."

"Come on, Jordee. Here we go. We're heading towards baggage claim, and then we'll see my mother, and I'm going to introduce you to her."

Elvis smiles and tries to hold back his excitement. She'll see the real Elvis when they get outside.

"You'll love the landscape. It's a different world outside, my love, but a far better one."

Jordee and Elvis retrieve their luggage from baggage claim. They head towards the doors, and Elvis holds the door open for Jordee, like the true gentleman he is. Jordee smiles at him and walks out the door.

She stops in her tracks and is stunned by the view. The beautiful lush green of the green and the autumn trees are captivating. The mountains in the distance are breathtaking. She can hear the stream in the distance bring it altogether. Scotland. She has arrived.

"Wow." Is all that comes out of her mouth. "Elvis, I'm from the country, but this doesn't compare at all. This is magnificent."

Elvis smiles at her, and he can't help but grin. He loves being able to see her reactions to all of this for the first time.

"I know, darling. I know. It's a different world outside, but just wait until you drive up in the country and you're up in the hills. I'm telling you. It's just absolutely gorgeous. I've always been a proud Scottish man, and this country is just stunning to me."

He holds her close.

"Let's go see everybody else now."

Jordee shakes her head, and Elvis walks her to a nearby black jaguar. "Is this yours, Elvis?"

Elvis shrugs.

"Well, it's my mother's. She sent it to pick us up from the airport, but then I'll be taking it out to the castle. Do you like it?" Elvis stands by the door to the car.

"Baby boy, this is nice."

Jordee slides into the passenger seat, and Elvis shuts the door. The scent of leather fresh in the car stimulates Jordee's senses.

He can't wait for her to meet everyone. His family, his friends, the people of Scotland, and of course, his own castle.

Elvis smiles and closes the door. Then he walks over to the driver's side the jag and seats himself behind the wheel. In just a few minutes, they're off on their journey towards the castle.

"My love, would you like me to hold your hand?"

Elvis holds his hand out to her. Jordee doesn't hesitate for a moment. She gladly takes his hand and says, "You don't even have to ask."

Elvis smiles and then reaches for her hand, taking hers, and they sit back as he holds her hand tightly. He looks at her with a loving smile and for a moment, he forgets all of his worries. The moment he's with her, everything is wonderful.

He can't wait for her to meet every person in his life because, with her at his side.

As the limo drives through the town, Elvis points out all the important things about the town to Jordee.

The car drives up into the hills of the countryside, and Jordee is blown away by the landscape. All the castles and architectural features amaze Jordee.

"Elvis, I'm at a loss for words. This is better than all the pictures I've even online or in books."

Elvis smiles at hearing her reactions to the countryside.

"Yes, baby, I know, I know. It's like stepping into a fairy tale land. I told you. You won't believe it when you see the castle up ahead. My mother was telling me that it's been redone and it's all done up really nice."

He smiles and turns the steering wheel so that they're going to find a place to park outside the castle grounds. Jordee realizes this is it. The moment of truth. The moment that she meets her mother-in-law.

"What do I say?" Jordee asks in disillusionment.

"Just walk in there like you own the place because as far as I'm concerned, you do," Elvis answers.

Jordee looks at him like he's lost his mind, and Elvis laughs out.

"Jor, I'm kidding! My mother is a very sweet and very welcoming woman. She's not going to be hard on you. Just be yourself, and she'll love you."

Elvis still holding her hand as they get out of the car, and they walk towards the castle gates.

"Elvis, do I bow? Or curtsy?"

"You don't have to do either of those, dear. Just walk in there like a normal person. I want you to act like you would any other time. You see, mother's going to know that I'm madly in love with you, and it's going to be kind of cute, so I want you to just act normal."

Elvis smiles at her and he lets go of her hand as they walk up to the gate at the entrance of the castle grounds. Jordee and Elvis walk through the gate and Jordee gets a better look at the castle.

She can see the age of the architecture of the building. It's truly breathtaking. All the arches and towers. The vines that cover the castle adds a great touch.

Elvis takes her hand and leads her to the front door of the castle.

"Just stay calm. My mother is going to know that I love you and she'll like you, I promise. My mother is a very sweet woman and she's going to love you. Trust me. I just know it."

Elvis smiles at her and squeezes her hand as he walks up the long walk to the castle door. He's nervous, too, but he's trying to remain calm about the situation he's bringing her into. When he opens the door, he's nervous about what's going to happen next.

When Elvis opens the door and whispers to Jordee,

"Welcome home, baby."

There's a group of people standing in the foyer waiting for you both. Elvis takes her and walks into the foyer. He's holding her hand tightly, doing his best to show her that everything is going to be all right.

"My darling Elvis. Welcome home, my son," Elvis mother, Margaret says.

Margaret is a beautiful woman with a smile that lights the room. Her curly dark hair rests on her shoulders, and her brown eyes cast warm upon every gentle soul she meets.

Margaret opens her arms for Elvis to come to her. Elvis greets his mother with a warm embrace. He kisses her cheek and leans his forehead against hers. This sight warms Jordee's heart. She knows Margaret means the world to Elvis.

Elvis looks back at Jordee and extends out his for her to come to him. Jordee takes his hand without a second thought. Elvis pulls her close.

"Mother, this is my amazing new bride, Jordee. Jordee, this is my mother, Margaret"

Elvis smiles and leans in and kisses Jordee on the cheek.

"Jordee, you know there's nobody in my life more important to me than my mother and the rest of my family, so I hope they treat you right and you get along with them as well as I know you will."

Jordee smiles and extends her hand to give to Elvis' mother.

"Hello, Ms. Margaret. It's nice to you. Elvis has told me so much about you."

Margaret smiles and shakes Jordee's hand.

"It's beautiful to meet you, Jordee. Elvis has told me so much about you, and I'm really, really happy that he's found someone in his life who's so perfect for him. I hope you can call me Margaret, dear, because you are now my daughter."

"Yes. Margaret," Jordee nods her head in acknowledgment. "My apologies. It's a Southern thing. If my mother heard me call you Margaret, I'd be in trouble."

Margaret chuckles.

"Well, I understand how you feel, dear. I don't want you to be in trouble. In the meantime, I want to say one thing and I hope you take this to heart. If anyone ever gives you a hard time, just send them my way, all right?"

She flashes Jordee a beautiful smile, and she looks at Elvis.

"Excuse us, mother. Come on, baby, let's get you settled in your room, and then we'll go see everyone else."

Jordee gets a brief tour through the castle on the walk to her room. She sees all the draperies and pictures that are in fact paintings.

Jordee sees the paintings of Elvis as a young boy. He was adorable. It makes her heart jump with glee.

"Elvis, you were a handsome baby."

Elvis laughs.

"That was so long ago, Jor. I almost don't believe that those paintings were me, but that's what they told me I looked like. I was so cute as a child and I was spoiled rotten by our mother."

He smiles at her and they move into a bedroom.

"This is your room, Jordee. We went with something comfortable. It was made all up for you by the staff and, of course, my mother. Do you like it?"

Jordee looks around the room. Larger than any room that she's ever had. It's gorgeous. The bed is nice and soft yet firm. From your bedroom window, Jordee can see the mountains and the green hills. The sunset will be astonishing at night.

"It's beautiful. I can fall in love with this view."

Elvis comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her he kisses her neck. The two of them spend the next fifteen minutes freshening up and getting ready for the dinner meeting of Elvis' family. Being that everyone is a vampire, this just means a social meeting where they all just talk to one another.

Elvis and Jordee walk hand in hand to the great dining hall. Elvis helps sit her down in one of the chairs, and then he smiles at everyone, and he stands up at the front of the table.

"Everyone, I have something that I'd like to share with you all. I want you to meet the love of my life, Jordee. She's beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, loving and I've never been so happy as I am right now. Jordee is my dream come true. She's the woman that I've been looking for all my life and I now feel like the luckiest man in the world. Please welcome Jordee."

Jordee blushes at his words, completely unaware that Elvis was going to introduce her that way. Her heart is full as everyone comes to greet her.

Elvis' entire family rises to greet her. Jordee is overwhelmed by all the attention, and she looks at Elvis, who's watching her closely.

Elvis leans in close and whispers in her ear, "You are doing great, Jor. Just keep doing what you're doing. Everyone loves you."

Elvis' sisters, Lisa Marie and Mary Elizabeth (Beth), sit close to Jordee to get to know her better. Jordee says hi to Elvis' youngest sister, Amy. Amy smiles but is too shy to speak.

All this love in one room makes Elvis giddy. He loves all the attention the family gives Jordee. He knew all Jordee needed was a chance, and they'd love her.

Elvis smiles and rubs Jordee's back gently.

"Jor, you've made a great impression on all of us. My mother adores you. My sisters are all smitten with you, and I think even Amy is a little crush on you. There's no one who's not going to love you, Jor. You're just that kind of person."

Elvis smiles and looks over at Beth.

"I never thought that tonight would be this fun. This is one of the best nights of my life, Jor. Thank you for making it so wonderful."

Jordee kisses Elvis and whispers.

"You haven't seen nothing yet."

Jordee looks at his sisters and asks, "I need stories. Little Elvis running around stories. That would make him blush."

The ladies all laugh, and they smile at Elvis. Then, they begin to tell Jordee stories about a young Elvis. The stories range from cute to hilarious, and Jordee enjoys herself.

"Well, I guess this is where someone should tell you that Elvis used to wet his bed until he was about ten years old. It would make him so angry when that happened and he used to get mad at me for telling everyone about it."

Beth and Lisa Marie laugh, and they tease Elvis about this story.

"Oh, you poor baby."

Jordee lightly touches his face.

Lisa Marie starts to tell Jordee about the time that young Elvis watched movies with his friend Fess Parker.

"Fess Parker was a great friend of Elvis' growing up. They used to love watching old cowboy movies together. Now, one day, Elvis and Fess were watching this Western, and Fess asks Elvis if he wants to be an actor. Do you know what Elvis did?"

Lisa Marie laughs as she looks over at Elvis.

"You're going to love this. Elvis stands up and starts to do his little cowboy impression. He walks around the room and does his best John Wayne impersonation right in front of Fess. Elvis always wanted to be an actor just like his hero, John Wayne."

Elvis is embarrassed, but he's smiling as Lisa Marie laughs at him. Lisa Marie and Beth convince Elvis to show Jordee his best John Wayne impersonation.

Elvis stands up to do his little John Wayne impression. He does his little stance, placing his arms out slightly in front of him to loosen up.

"I'm John Wayne, and this is the way I talk. Ya see, I'm a cowboy with a little bit of a drawl, and I like to shoot from the hip. And you know what else?"

Elvis pauses, putting his left hand on his hip and his right hand on the holster that's attached to his hip, and then he makes a face like he's in a Western.

"It would be my pleasure to save you, ma'am," Elvis says, tipping his hat to Jordee.

Jordee claps at the job well done by Elvis, and everyone joins in.

"Bravo! That's the sexiest Duke I've ever seen!"

Elvis sits and asks Jordee if they can tell Beth about the baby. Jordee looks at Elvis with shock. Does Elvis know something the Jordee doesn't? Jordee touches her stomach and smiles. He wants to tell everyone.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll just tell everyone at once then. There's a little baby on the way."

Everyone in the room cheers and then they all start to talk at once. Elvis just smiles.

"Yes, Jordee and I are having a baby. I'm excited about being a dad, and she's going to be an amazing mom." Elvis then smiles at Jordee, and he wraps his arm around her and kisses her head.

Jordee missed the part that she was indeed pregnant. She's stunned that Elvis knew. Everyone erupts in glee. Jordee smiles and blushes at everyone coming to hug her.

Jordee wants to be officially married before she has the baby. Jordee believes in babies being born in wedlock. Changing a few things that happened to her. She has the man and the baby now she just needs the ring.

"Can we have that official wedding ceremony first?" Jordee asks.

Elvis smiles and nods his head.

"Absolutely, my love. We can do it as soon as you'd like."

Jordee smiles, leaning over Jordee whispers in Elvis' ear. "That means, as long as you'll help raise this baby with me, I'll finally say yes."

Elvis pulls her close again and he smiles lovingly at Jordee.

"I'll do the very best I can to be a great daddy. I'm going to be there for her or him every step of the way."

*"It's just that I can't believe this is really happening. It feels like everything I've ever wanted and all of it in one moment."

Elvis can't stop smiling as he rubs her back gently. "You and me, Jordee, and a beautiful baby. I never thought I'd have it all. You've made all my dreams come true."

"Like Hall & Oats?" Jordee laughs at her own statement. Elvis laughs, too. "You made all my dreams fulfilled as well, El. You're just so... incredible."

Jordee asks Margaret for her blessing to marry Elvis. Margaret not only gives her blessing but she says...

"I know that we were going to wait and hold a formal wedding, but with the announcement of our new baby, I think it's only right that we hold a wedding right now."

The room erupts in shock and disbelief. Elvis smiles at Jordee, and then he looks around to ensure that everyone pays attention.

"R-right now?" Jordee asks.

"Yes! Let's do it!" Elvis says, excitement running throughout his body. "I have to make you Mrs. Presley immediately."

Jordee hesitates. She wants to marry Elvis, of course, but her family isn't there. Her brothers aren't there to walk her down the aisle. Her mother isn't there to give her the extra love she needs.

Elvis ensures her that once they do a large ceremony, her family will be there. He'll see to it that she's surrounded in love. With that being said, Jordee agrees to marry him in the garden under the moonlight with candles surrounding them.

They all walk into the garden with candles in hand. Beth leads the way as the officiant. She leads Elvis and Jordee to the floral archway covers in fresh gardenias.

Elvis takes Jordee's hands as they gaze into one another's eyes. Jordee looks deep into Elvis' blue soul eyes and sees the future. Walking on the beach hand in hand. Play in the ocean. Making love on the shore. Traveling the world together with their baby in toe. It's so wonderful.

"Are you ready to start the next part of your lives? Elvis? Jordee?" Beth asks.

Jordee nods her head, and then it hits her that they're missing things to make this wedding official.

"Wait! We need need something old, new, something borrowed and blue," Jordee says.

"Wow, baby. I'm sorry. I forgot," Elvis admits and looks at Beth. "Do you have anything right now so we can bless our wedding?"

Jordee looks at Beth eagerly. Beth touches her neck, realizing she has a necklace.

"My necklace can be borrowed for the occasion." Beth said, taking it off her neck.

Elvis takes the necklace from Beth and places it on Jordee's neck. Elvis kisses her forehead and smiles. It was a perfect fit for the occasion from his big sister.

"Elvis, dear?" Margaret says.

Everyone turns around to see Margaret speak.

"Yes, Mama?" Elvis answered.

"You didn't get your bride a ring. I noticed," Margaret says.

Shame passes through Elvis at that moment.

"No, he didn't." Jordee chimes in.

"Take this ring and give it to your bride as something old and something blue. It's also something new to you."

Jordee's eyes light up at the ring. It's gorgeous. A blue sapphire with a silver band.

Elvis smiles and takes the ring, putting it on Jordee's finger. It almost perfectly matches the necklace that Beth gave her. Elvis kisses Jordee on the cheek again.

"What do you think, Jor? Isn't it divine?"

"It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. Thank you, Margaret. So much," Jordee says.

Queen Margaret speaks.

"You're welcome, love. That ring is over a century old. Elvis and Jordee have everything they need. You may start, Mary Elizabeth."

Beth smiles, and she begins the ceremony.

"Tonight, we are gathered here with friends and family to witness the wedding of Elvis Presley and Jordee Presley. And we congratulate them for this most blessed occasion."

Beth smiles as she looks at Elvis and Jordee standing in front of the wedding party and then the moonlight and the trees surrounding the beautiful pond.

"With love and hope in our hearts, we have come here to witness the commitment that Elvis and Jordee have made to each other. They have loved each other, and now they are ready to be bonded together as a married couple."

"Elvis and Jordee have come here today with their promise to honor and love each other. They have made their commitment to one another in the presence of God, their family, and their friends. They've pledged to face any storm that may come together, and they are ready to face their future head on in the eternal bonds of marriage."

Beth looks at Elvis, and she smiles.

"Elvis, do you take Jordee Presley as your wife. To love and to cherish, so that you will hold her in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?"

Elvis looks Jordee in the eyes and smiles. "I do."

Beth looks at Jordee, and she smiles at her, and she says:

"Jordee Presley, do you take Elvis Presley to be your husband? To be yours, for better or for worse? In all health? As long as you both shall live? Rule by his side as his queen and love forever?"

"I do. With all my heart, I do."

Elvis smiles, and he looks at Jordee, and Beth says:

"Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, husband and wife."

"May I kiss her?" Elvis says.

The crowd of family and friends laugh.

"You may kiss your bride, little brother." Beth says, with a smile on her face.

Jordee stands her toes to reach Elvis. Elvis grabs her face and kisses her passionately.

The crowd applauds as Beth smiles, and she says:

"I present to you the newly married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Presley."

And then Elvis kisses Jordee again and he smiles and he puts both of his arms around Jordee. He wraps her in his embrace, gently and tightly.

"I love you, Jordee. I'm yours, now and forever."

"Forever, my darling." Jordee whispers.

Elvis kisses Jordee for another few seconds, and he whispers into her ear. "I have something for you." Then he pulls away, and he smiles at her and then looks out.

"Well, everyone. I have a surprise."

Elvis looks back at Jordee, and he smiles, and he says:

"Jordee, my beautiful baby. You won't believe this but we actually have one more wedding present for you."

"I don't know if my heart can take anything else, husband."

"Just wait. This one is going to make you cry with joy. Come here, my love."

Elvis wraps his arms around Jordee and looks into her eyes and he kisses her on her nose.

"There's someone I want you to meet," Elvis whispers.

"Who? I thought everyone was here."

"Just wait, my love. You're going to meet someone very special right now, and he's going to bring the most precious treasure in the world with him."

Elvis looks back at the crowd and smiles. "Are you ready, Jordee?"

"I guess," Jordee says, wondering who this could be.

The crowd moves away, revealing a small baby in a pram. They smile at Jordee, and everyone looks back at Elvis. Their faces are illuminated by the moonlight.

"This is for the two of you. He is the most precious gift in the world and he deserves to meet his mother and his father and he deserves to meet the family that is coming together tonight."

Jordee's eyes are glowing and her face is beaming with joy. She's almost too afraid to touch the bundle that she's been waiting to meet.

"This is our baby?" Jordee whispers.

"This is our baby, my love."

Elvis smiles and he takes Jordee's hand in his and he leads Jordee to the baby. He turns the baby around so that Jordee is face to face with her little boy. The baby is wrapped in a blanket and Jordee looks at him and smiles. The baby looks at Jordee and he looks confused but he smiles too because he knows his mother and he knows that she's happy.

"What would you like to call him, Jordee?"

"Jesse. Let's name him Jesse."

Elvis smiles and nods.

"Jesse Presley. That's a wonderful name for our little boy. What do you think, Jesse? Are you happy to meet your momma now?"

Elvis looks at Jordee and he smiles. She smiles back and she looks at Elvis and she puts a loving hand around Jesse's head and shoulders.

"Elvis. Can I tell Jesse something?"

"Of course, you can. He's your baby, so you can tell him anything you'd like to."

Jordee picks up her new baby and says, "Jesse, I'm new at this. Just give me some time, and I'll be the best mommy you will ever have."

What a marvelous night this has all turned out to be. Elvis actually taking Jordee to Scotland after all to meet his beautiful family. They have dinner. Get married by candle and moonlight. Little Jesse is here. The baby boy Jordee has always wanted. Happiness exists in the most precious moments.

...

"Jor, baby, wake up," Elvis whispers in her ear.

"Hmm? E, I fell asleep?" Jordee asks in a groggy voice.

"Yeah, remember. You said that you were tired. I told you that I'd wake you when we got to our destination. We're here."

"Here?"

"Yes, my love. Vermont," Elvis says, kissing her hand.

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