The Redemption (Charlotte Bloom Book 2) (6 page)

“Yes. All departing flights to Swansea from LAX after, say, 9:00 p.m.”

She clicked away and I checked my phone. It was almost one in the morning.

“There was a flight at 9:30 through United.”

What time had Alec come? I checked my phone again. I’d texted Amara when I was walking up to my apartment with Charlie. 8:56. There was no way Alec would’ve made it.

He was still here.

He was somewhere in the airport.

“Great! When’s the next flight to Swansea? Through KLM or any airline. I just need to get there.”

“Oh, yes, I do remember you,” she said drily. I smiled back. “Let me see…” she typed for another few seconds and quickly found an answer. “In six hours. It’s not direct, though. It stops over in Dublin.”

“That’s fine. So, that’s the only flight leaving tonight?”

“Technically, tomorrow morning. But, yes. The one at 2:00 p.m. was the last one, and this is the next one. Can I please see your passport?”

This was perfect. Alec was probably already in the terminal. I handed over my passport and texted Amara.

Only flights to Swansea were today at 2 p.m. and tomorrow at 7 a.m., in six hours. Alec has to be here. Wish me luck!

Dani handed my passport back to me, and I swiftly finished checking in. I thanked her hurriedly as I walked away. Luckily, the line for security was short because it was so late. I jogged through the terminals, looking for A26. When I found it, my eyes scanned the small crowd of people sitting in the waiting area. I checked twice. Alec wasn’t there.

I dragged my suitcase to the bar, thinking he might be there. He wasn’t. I took my beanie off and waited outside the men’s bathroom for a good twenty minutes, and when that yielded no results, I walked up and down the entire international terminal. Alec wasn’t here. I checked my phone. He hadn’t texted or called and, stupid me, I’d deleted his number. I could’ve called the Parc for his number, but something told me he wouldn’t pick up his phone if he knew I was calling.

As I dejectedly sat down in a terminal seat, I felt the heavy pull of sleep take over. I curled my knees up to my chest and leaned against the seat, placing my hat on my knees for a pillow. The next thing I knew, we were boarding. It was barely light out. I stood up, groggy, and my heart sped up as a tall man five people ahead of me got on the plane. I couldn’t tell for sure, but he was definitely the same height and build as Alec. He was wearing a green parka and a black beanie. I almost ran into the woman in front of me as I kept my eyes on him while the line scooted closer to the ticket scanner.

I didn’t let him out of my sight the entire time we were boarding, but as we entered the plane I realized, to my dismay, that he was seated towards the back of the plane, while I had a seat in the second row. I excused myself from my seat companions, saying I needed to use the restroom. Instead of using the one five feet away, I made my way towards the back of the plane, to where the man had his back to me as he put his suitcase up in the overhead bin. I tapped his shoulder. He turned around.

It wasn’t Alec.

***

After I got back to my seat, I quickly called the Parc. Of course, no one answered. The flight attendant standing to my left cleared her throat loudly, obviously displeased with me. Panic started to settle in. I had no way of contacting Alec. Surely he was going back to the Parc… right?

I spent the majority of the long flight fidgeting. I denied the meal they brought to me. I was just too nervous to eat. As I drifted off to sleep towards the end of the flight, I figured the most plausible explanation was that he was still in L.A., in some hotel room, waiting to leave on some other flight. I mean, he’d traveled all the way from Wales. He wasn’t going to go straight home. He needed to sleep. With the overly expensive wi-fi that the flight offered, I quickly emailed Amara to see if she could leave a note for Alec on my front door. I wanted to keep it simple, and I wanted to make sure no one else would know what it meant.

I’m coming back for you. I love you. -Charlotte.

I asked her to tape it up in the rare case that Alec came back to my apartment. He would know what it meant. That was all I could do. If all went well, I would be at the Parc when he returned.

When we landed in Dublin, I had about forty-five minutes to catch my connection. The de-boarding process was slow, and once I reached the Customs area I squirmed with anxiety the entire time I waited in line. I wished the Customs officers would hurry up. After about thirty minutes of waiting in a solid, dense line, I skipped ahead to the horror of all the other passengers. I issued apologies, explaining that my connection was leaving in fifteen minutes. Some of them sneered. Others smiled and gladly allowed me to cut in front of them. As I made my way to the front of the line, I realized with sickening horror that my connecting flight was out of another terminal. I wasn’t going to make it.

My passport got stamped, and I had all of eleven minutes to make my way to the next gate, which looked to be about five hundred miles away. I sighed, and debated even trying. I was probably going to miss it. I checked the departure time on the board and realized boarding was still happening. I had to attempt to make it. I ran as fast as I could with my suitcase rolling behind me. I bumped into people as I ran, apologizing over my shoulder. I felt the air burning in my lungs as I sprinted to the next terminal. I didn’t have time to wait for the inter-terminal tram. I was doing this on my own.

I constantly checked my phone as I wove through the mass of people. Eight minutes. I could still make it. I turned into a very long hallway and jumped onto the moving walkway, trying not to
actually
push people out of the way, but instead tapping them on the shoulder impatiently. Six minutes. I ran as fast as I could—not just to catch my flight—but for Alec, too. I had to get there as soon as possible. I had to be at Parc-Le-Bouveret when he arrived. I had to redeem myself. Five minutes. I saw the very faint outline of my gate in the distance. I stumbled on to another moving sidewalk and sprinted. Three minutes. I was so close.
I was so close.
Two minutes. I hopped off the moving sidewalk and started to shout at the woman standing at my gate.

“I’m here! I’m coming!”

She laughed and gestured to the closing door.

“You made it.”

PART TWO

When I arrived in Swansea, I went straight to the rental car lot. It was almost dark out. I couldn’t bother waiting for a taxi. In about five minutes, I was off, on the wrong side of the road, on the wrong side of the Mini Cooper I’d just rented. I’d begged for an automatic transmission and, luckily, they had one—just one—for me. There was no way I was going to drive stick AND on the opposite side of the road. I hadn’t bothered to brush my teeth or hair, and based on my reflection in the rearview mirror, I’d looked better. But I didn’t care. I just needed to get to the Parc. I needed to be there, more than I’d ever needed anything in my entire life. I was home.
I was home.

The road leading up to the Parc was decorated for Christmas. As I pulled into the very long driveway, I smiled; each lamppost was adorned with white lights and bright green wreaths. When the house came into view, I gasped. It was covered in Christmas lights, and they twinkled to the exact beat of my heart. Or maybe I was imagining that part. I saw Tommy’s cab parked near the back, and I pulled in next to him.

As I walked up to the giant house, I was delighted to see a thin sheen of snow covering the ground. The last time I was here, it had been summer and the nights had been cool and muggy. Now the air was frigid and threatened snow. I absolutely loved it. I left my suitcase in the trunk and walked to the front door. No one was expecting me. I knocked, unable to decide if I should walk right in. No one answered. I pushed on the handle, and it creaked open. It was unlocked.

The minute I stepped inside, I was overcome with nostalgia and happiness. This was why my tiny studio apartment never felt right. This was why, when I had returned to my house in L.A. the past August, everything felt
off
. It was because Parc-Le-Bouveret was my home now. I was on a mission to make sure I would stay forever. Hopefully, with Alec.

I heard voices coming from the dining room. Of course—it was dinnertime. I smiled when I thought of the shocked faces that would peer up at me from the table. I slowly opened the door, which creaked in a familiar way.

“Finally, near the end of the table, we have the maid and cook, Katie, the night manager, Henry, and the groom, Alec.” He gestured to the tall, dark, creepy man at the end of the table.

“The groom?” I felt stupid for asking, but I didn’t know what that was.

“I tend to the horses.” Alec had spoken up, and his voice was deep and husky. He had a lilt to his voice, pronouncing horses as “harses”, and I suspected he wasn’t Welsh. But my understanding of different regional British accents wasn’t great, so I really had no idea.

“Oh. Got it.” I smiled at him, but he just looked at me like I was an idiot and continued eating.

And now I was back, interrupting dinner just like my first time here. I felt my face get hot as Helen, George, Henry, Mary, and Katie stared at me for a second too long. I’d just barged in. What was I thinking? It was incredibly rude. Before I could process anything, I felt someone knock the air out of me. Mary had thrown herself into me, and she laughed as she pulled away.

“Charlotte, oh my god! You’re here!” She hugged me again as other voices grew too loud to hear individually.

I cried as Helen hugged me, swaying from side to side, like a mother who hadn’t seen her daughter in years. Next was George, Henry, and Katie. It was a happy moment, and overwhelming. These were my people.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Henry said, bringing me in for a bear hug. “Where’s Alec?”

“What?”

Everyone got quiet. I felt the breath leave my lungs.
Why are they asking me that?

“You’re back because he came to Los Angeles,” Mary said, matter-of-factly.

“He did come to Los Angeles,” I explained. “But he’s not with me.”

“I’m confused,” Katie interjected. “He came to L.A. to win you back. If he’s not with you, then why are you here?”

I sat down in one of the seats and sighed loudly. I needed some sustenance before I could tell the story. I guess Helen had read my mind, because she brought out some Welsh Cawl, one of my favorite Welsh meals, and set it down in front of me. Everyone sat around me as I began to eat. I could feel everyone staring, waiting for me to begin.

“Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“The long version. Always,” Mary quipped. Everyone else agreed.

“I screwed up. Again. As you all know, I hadn’t talked to Alec since I left that day in August. I was utterly and completely miserable. I have—well—
had
a shitty minimum-wage job and I spent the majority of my time moping around. I ate donuts for dinner on multiple occasions,” I turned to Helen, who looked revolted at my dining choices. “I missed this,” I said, pointing to my now almost empty bowl of stew. “I missed all of you so much that it hurt.”

“Anyways, in an effort to move on with my life, my friend set me up on a date, and it was awful. The date was last night, and he made an excuse to come up to my apartment, essentially forcing himself on me. I guess you can see where this is going,” I said, self-deprecatingly. “Alec saw this guy all up on me, and punched him. I think he thought, from afar, that we were kissing passionately or something, so he left. I ran after him, but it was too late. And now I’m here, waiting for him so that I can explain everything.”

They all sat there, stunned. I saw Mary look at Henry. Helen looked at George.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say… where’s Alec?” Katie piped up.

“I thought he’d be here,” I offered. “I went to the airport almost immediately after it happened, but he wasn’t on my flight.”

“He took two weeks off,” Helen explained. “He was going to bring you to Ireland. That’s probably where he is—at his mother’s house in Belfast.”

My shoulders slumped in defeat. He wasn’t coming back to the Parc. He was going to Ireland.

“Can I please stay here tonight? I need a good night’s rest before I head to Belfast tomorrow,” I said, slurping up the rest of my stew.

Helen grinned at me.

“We’re booked solid, partly because of your amazing PR skills. But we do have one room,” she said, mischievously.

***

Helen and Mary walked me down the hall with my suitcase and stopped in front of Alec’s door. Of course they’d put me up in his room. I wasn’t sure how well I’d sleep, knowing a part of him was so close. It would be nice to be in his territory, if only because I knew everything would smell like him. That thought was an incentive by itself.

“Make yourself at home tonight, Charlotte,” Helen said, kissing me on the cheek. “I’ll have Katie make you an English breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“My favorite,” I smiled, happily.

As Helen left, Mary came into the room with me and closed the door. I gestured for her to sit on the bed, and I took my shoes off and joined her.

“I didn’t want to say this in front of the others but, because Alec is my husband’s best friend, I wanted you to know. I think Alec came to Los Angeles to propose to you,” Mary said breathily, like she’d been holding that tidbit in all night long.

My mind spun with excitement.

“What? Really?”

“Only Henry knows for sure. But from what I gathered over the last few months, Alec was coming back to L.A. to ask you to marry him.”

My stomach was doing somersaults. I envisioned him the night before, coming to my door with a ring in his pocket, only to see me with another man. I was so, so, so stupid. If only he’d come a night earlier, or a night later. I was kicking myself.

“That’s… that’s…”

I wasn’t sure how it made me feel. I felt happy knowing it, but also sad. I’d ruined everything.

“I am so stupid,” I sighed, putting my head in my hands. “If he did come to propose to me, and then saw Charlie kissing me…” I trailed off. “I’d have punched Charlie, too.”

“He took two weeks off. He was going to bring you to his mom’s house in Belfast.”

“Well, I’m heading there first thing tomorrow.”

“Good.” Mary smiled. “Because you better set things right with him, for my own personal, selfish reasons. I want you back here,” she said, hugging me. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. But I’m here now.”

“I guess your email worked,” she said, quickly.

“What?” I was genuinely confused.

“Well, that’s why Alec went to L.A.,” she said. I just sat there, stunned. “Your email to Katie? She forwarded it to me, I forwarded it to Henry, who forwarded it to Alec, and that very same day, he announced that he was going to L.A. to win you back.” She looked at me expectantly. “You said you were moving on. It scared him. He thought you’d eventually come back, but when you emailed saying you were moving on, it freaked him out. He told me he had to go before it was too late.”

Something clicked in my head. Suddenly, I realized how the entire last few days had played out for Alec.

“He read the email saying I was moving on. He panicked, and came to L.A. to propose to me, only he found me with another man, “ I said, my epiphany gathering momentum. “Now it makes sense! He kept saying that it was a mistake, and he said something about how he was ‘too late’. He punched Charlie because he was angry that he was too late. It looked like I’d moved on already. And then he left.”

“It’s your turn to win him back now,” Mary said, squeezing my thigh before standing to leave. We hugged for a long time before she left for the night.

I was all alone in Alec’s room now, and I let myself fully take in my surroundings. The last time I was here, we’d made love. It had been my last night in Wales.

The thought of him never having been in love made me kiss him even more passionately as I laced my fingers through his thick, dark, almost black hair. I felt one of his warm hands around my waist, pulling me in closer, and the other in my hair, guiding me. He’d never been in love before, and he chose me. He didn’t do this with other guests, ever, yet he chose me. I was married, and things were complicated, and still he chose me. I felt my body get hotter and hotter the longer we kissed. I pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I hoped he would understand what I meant by those words. Things were about to get even more complicated before I left tomorrow.

“It’s OK. You’re worth it.”

He pulled me in for another kiss, and I lost myself again against his body. I swayed as we moved back and forth, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t take this much longer. His kisses were getting more passionate by the second. He pulled away, slowly.

“You’ll always be worth it,” he whispered into my ear, making my whole body shiver with delight.

As I relayed that night in my head, I felt a single tear escape my left eye. It landed on Alec’s crisp, white pillowcase. I rolled on to my side and clutched it, inhaling his soapy, cedary scent. He smelled so clean. In a way, his smell was a metaphor for my life. His scent was washing me clean of my past. Nothing else about the room had changed, except now I noticed, delightfully, that there was a vase of fresh white lilies on his dresser. I got up and walked over to them. Inhaling their scent, I closed my eyes.

He stopped right in front of me, undoing the top button of his shirt. I did the same with the top button of my dress. He kept going, antagonizing me with his speed, and slowly, button by button, taking his shirt off. I felt the top part of my dress open, exposing my bra, therefore exposing my breasts because my bra was a lacy, see-through deal. I heard him groan slowly as he bent down and nibbled my nipple through the material. I felt my legs give out a little bit, and I saw stars. If that sent me over the edge, I wasn’t sure if I could handle the real deal.

My legs got weak just thinking about that night. I went over to his bookshelf and leafed through some books, smiling as I realized he took copious notes in the books that he read, like a good little student. I walked over to his closet and opened it, pulling each shirt up to my nose and inhaling. His work boots lined the walls, and the heels were caked with mud. I felt myself sit down, buried deep in his hanging clothes, just taking in every aspect of his life which, I realized, I didn’t know a whole lot about.

He’d grown up near Belfast during a time of turmoil, also known as The Troubles. The Northern Irish Conflict had been the backbone of his childhood, though his parents had luckily been on the good side of things; he’d grown up in a mansion, and both of his parents were famous Northern Irish politicians. When he was twenty-two, after graduating from veterinary school, he’d returned home after six years away. Shortly thereafter, he had gotten into a car accident with his father. He had been driving, but had walked away without a scratch. Unfortunately, his father was killed, and Alec was still living with that guilt. He moved to Wales a month after the accident to work with the horses at Parc-Le-Bouveret.

The night he told me everything was the night that everything had changed. That was the night I realized that Alec had feelings for me. Of course, I hadn't known at the time that Alec was married—he would tell me later that night. However, he had gotten married purely to help out a Russian refugee (who was absolutely beautiful, by the way), but he swore he didn’t like Natasha like that. He was only being a good person by marrying her. And Alec was a very nice person. Even when he was being crass, forward, or mean… his intentions were always good.