CHAPTER 7
For the second time that night he caught her staring when she rejoined him where she’d left him, finding him lighting a fire in the fireplace as he looked over his shoulder at her. Turner sat to his right, head resting on her paws which she raised at Keira’s entrance. The whole scene, the entire moment really, struck her as surreal, and with it came the feeling that she shouldn’t even be there.
He saw the clouds that entered her eyes, though not sure what they stemmed from. It was yet another aspect of whom they’d become; he’d always used to know what she was thinking, as did she with him, to the point where they’d finish each other’s sentences. But after thirty long months the woman he’d known better than he’d known himself was now a stranger to him, a ghost from his past. It was a thought that did little to fill the gaping void that lingered, left by her when she’d gone.
“I um, I was just going to open a bottle of wine if you wanted a glass,” he said, pointing toward the small kitchen.
Alcohol would be lovely right about now, she thought, giving him only a nod for an answer as he disappeared into the small room off to her right. With a hand to her forehead, eyes squeezed tightly closed, she pushed her fingers back through her dripping hair with a deep sigh. What was she doing here? Was she hoping to revive what she’d had with Orlando? Was she trying to give herself something that she’d thought she’d been missing since the day she’d left? Did she really still hold feelings deep down for Orlando… or was it just the lingering feeling of leaving something unfinished that had nagged her every day for the past two and a half years?
“Maybe I should just leave now,” she spoke softly to herself, reaching inside her purse for her cell phone. She flipped open the cover and began to dial the number to Ann’s cell, getting halfway through before realizing that the screen wasn’t lit and the phone itself was completely soaked. “Damn it,” she swore, tossing the useless phone back into her bag at the same time Justin returned with two glasses of red wine in each hand.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.
“Yup, perfect,” she answered, sitting on the floor with her back to the couch next to him. She took a long sip of wine, internally lecturing herself. Calm down, Keira. You’re not doing anything wrong, she thought, swallowing hard. She glanced at Orlando out of the corner of her eye. Yet…
Three hours later, the discomfort that had settled between them was lifted, helped along the way by the bottle of wine they’d all but finished except for what lay in their glasses at that moment. Both were, to some extent, tipsy, just enough to dismiss the awkwardness they’d felt before.
Orlando watched her knock back another sip before attempting to speak. “I never thanked you for coming, did I?” he asked, sipping from his own glass as her brown eyes returned to his chocolate ones.
A phantom of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at the thought that suddenly surfaced in her hazy mind. She set the glass on the coffee table in front of her and turned back to him with a wider smile taking over her features, a genuine Keira smile that had his lips turning upwards as well, before she answered, “Don’t thank me yet. You owe me a thousand bucks, buddy.”
He set his glass close to hers and laughed, settling back against the couch and turning his head in her direction. “What are you talking about? I don’t owe you any money,” he laughed, knowing full well what she was talking about.
“Oh yuh-huh! Yuh-HUH!” she laughed, turning her entire body in direction, pointing her finger at him.
“Keira, really. You have to be mistaken. First of all, I’d never make a wager like that; it’s too rich for my blood,” he said with a wink. “Second, even if I had, what would you need with a grand? You’re loaded,” he laughed.
“Ooo, don’t you dare try to weasel your way out of this, Bloom. You know damn well what I’m talking about, but I’ll refresh your memory, old man. Three summers ago, while we were promoting the movie, I told you that one day I would be sitting in the audience of your first Broadway play, to which you replied, ‘A thousand bucks says you’re wrong’. Dude, we even shook on it! Now where’s my money, punk?” she laughed.
“Old man? Punk? What happened to that sweet brit that I used to know?” he asked, taking another sip from the glass in his hand.
“She got screwed on one too many bets. Now pay up,” she grinned, holding out her hand, wiggling her fingers at him.
“You’re really going to make me pay you?” he asked with a grin of his own, catching her hand in his.
“Nah…” She looked down at their clasped hands, familiar feelings invading her senses. Her smile turned from one of amusement to one of sadness mixed with a bit of regret. She moved her eyes from their hands to his eyes, which she found focused on her. “I’ve missed you, Or,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes from his.
He swallowed back the desire that rose at the feel of her eyes on his, at the site of her before him. At the clear hazel eyes he knew every fleck of gold they held. At the still-damp, loosely coiled tresses of ginger that framed her face. At the lips that had always fit so perfectly against his. And then he whispered, in a voice thick with the desire he fought to suppress, “I’ve missed you, too.”
Even if she could have seen the future, she wouldn’t have been able to stop what happened. Time and circumstance were mere thoughts in the wind as they moved closer together. His hand found that comfortable place on her cheek where it had always fit, his kiss landing on her smooth forehead as her eyes fell closed. One by one he whispered tiny kisses across her cheeks, her chin, the tips of her nose, her jaw, before the screaming alarms in her head reminded her what she was doing.
“No,” she murmured, turning her head. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“Keir, I-” he began, but stopped when she stood and crossed the room.
“I shouldn’t be here, Orlando,” she sighed, staring into the orange and yellow flames encased in the fireplace.
“Keira…”
She turned to him with the reflection of the fire dancing in the tears that pooled her eyes. “I’m not free, Orlando. I stopped being free a year and a half ago,” she spoke on a broken whisper.
He felt the sting of tears prick his own eyes, but turned his head so she wouldn’t see. He didn’t want her to see his tears, didn’t want her to see how badly she’d hurt him, even if it was out of necessity to save herself. So instead he redirected the pain that coursed through him into anger… and he took aim at her. “Why did you come today, Keira? Was it just to make sure you’d done a good enough job of shattering my heart? To make sure I knew you’d started this perfect life with another man?”
She pulled back as if he’d slapped her and she sucked in a sharp breath before she spoke. “What did you expect me to do, Orlando? Wait until you woke up from whatever spell it was that you fell under? Give up my career to help you pick yours up off the floor after you let those people destroy it, after you let them destroy you?” she asked, swiping away her tears with an angry hand.
“Maybe I did. Maybe I thought that eventually you would change your mind about wanting to leave,” he answered, stepping closer to her.
“Well maybe that’s not fair! I did wait for you. I waited two years for you to come to your senses and realize what was going on. Two years! I put my life and my heart on hold hoping you’d call and tell me you’d finally seen what was going on and did something about it. That call never came, Orlando! So I gave up and got on with my life. And let me tell you something. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left because if I didn’t, I would have gotten dragged down with you,” she said, choking on the words that fell off her lips.
“Getting on with your life meant you had to marry this guy?” he asked, moving closer to her. When he was close enough to touch her she turned away, but he reached out and took hold of her upper arm, pulling her back flush against his chest. “Why did you marry him, Keira? Why marry him… when you wouldn’t marry me?”
His words were spoken with difficulty, and she choked back the soft cry that fought to escape her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, and when he tipped her chin up, she averted her eyes… until he spoke again with a dispirited undertone. “Why did you marry him?”
He counted those flecks of gold swimming in green he’d once had memorized as one single tear descended the length of her cheek. He counted the seconds that passed in silence as she considered her answer. Counted each breath she took, every beat of his heart, until she finally responded in a tone so soft he may not have heard had he not felt her breath brushing against his lips that were traveling towards hers once more, her eyes falling closed, “Because he loves me.”
Seeing nothing but darkness behind his fallen eyelids, his lips skimming across hers in the briefest of contact, his response breathed of a truth she wasn’t willing to admit, even to herself. “But do you love him like you loved me?”
He felt her start to tremble just the slightest amount at the application of the pressure he applied. “Please don’t ask me that,” she exhaled against his kiss.
“Keira…” he whispered with his lips to hers, lips that traveled freely across her features once more.
“Orlando… don’t…”she respired, letting her lips graze his neck in a place they hadn’t visited in so long.
“Because you do?” he pressed, speaking close to her ear in a low, throaty tone, his fingers caressing the skin along her backbone underneath the too-large sweatshirt.
“No,” she answered, laying her forehead in the crook of his neck, tiny goose bumps making patterns along the surface of her skin. “Because I could never lie to you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sweeping aside the damp hair that stuck to the side of her neck, he brushed feather-light kisses in the places where the silky stands had been only seconds before, his fingers still tracing invisible messages –ones her every nerve ending heard loud and clear- across her back.
She released a shaky sigh as she melted against him, unconsciously tilting her head to allow the trail he made with his lips better passage. “I… should… go,” she breathed heavily. “This isn’t… isn’t right.”
Even as she objected, her small fingers danced at his hairline just above his neck, pulling him closer without even realizing what she was doing. “Screw what’s right,” he growled out.
Unable to restrain himself from claiming her lips with his own any longer he held her face between both of his hands as his lips and tongue sought hers, she matching his passion with just as much eagerness. Neither was quite sure when they’d fallen to the floor, but they suddenly found themselves lying in front of the fireplace, his body shadowing hers. The pacing of their kisses slowed dramatically, as if they wanted to ingrain the feel of each and every brush of their lips in their memories.
He kissed a trail down her jaw line, her neck, her collarbone, stopping only when the neckline of the sweatshirt she wore kept him from going any further. With a finger hooked inside the stretchy material, he pulled the collar lower, paving her shoulder with more kisses.
“Just get rid of it,” she whispered on a heavy breath, the sound and feel of it more erotic than she intended against his ear.
The sweatshirt, along with his own shirt, was discarded and he took full advantage of every exposed patch of her smooth skin as her fingers dove into his hair, his fingers sliding down her sides and resting on her hips. She reached down between them, undoing the button on his jeans and helping him out of them, he untying the string that held the too-large sweatpants sitting on her hips and ridding her of the piece of clothing.
Trading kiss for painfully slow kiss, they knelt in front of each other clad in only their undergarments, passion-laden whispers seeping through each kiss they exchanged. His fingertips caressed every inch of her skin, the feel of it so familiar beneath his touch, her lips fitting his in the same manner a jigsaw puzzle locked together. Nothing else mattered in that instant except the feel of her body pressed against his.
He skimmed the backs of his fingers down her arm as he laid her back down, leaving a trail of goose bumps as he went, the kiss he gave her fogging her mind, both torturing and exhilarating her at the same time. Bringing her hands to cup his unshaven face, her fingers threading through the short curls behind his ears, she kissed him back, letting nothing but that moment invade her thoughts.
The cool brush of her ring against his cheek sent him spiraling back into reality, and with the very last drop of will power he possessed he turned his head away from her kiss, his forehead resting to her shoulder. He saw the confusion sparkling in her brown eyes, the clearness of them glittering in the light of the fire beside them before his eyes left hers.
She was right. They couldn’t do this.
Despite the fact that there was nothing more in the world he wanted than to love her into oblivion, he couldn’t, and he couldn’t let her. Despite the fact that she was right in front of him, ready and seemingly willing to let him do just that, if he continued down this path with her he knew she would never forgive herself… because despite everything he wanted more than just this moment. He wanted something she couldn’t give him. She was married… and no longer his.
He reached up and covered her hand that had fallen to warm his shoulder with palm, lacing his fingers between hers and holding them tight for just a second before slowly pulling her hand away. Returning his eyes to level with hers he saw the slow recognition spreading through her cloudy browns, along with the tears that formed but never fell. And he knew she understood what he was doing.
Not a word was spoken by either as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed soft, tiny kisses to the tips of each of her fingers. Not a sound uttered as he rested a gentle hand her cheek and touched his forehead to hers. There wasn’t a need for either… because without saying it, they both knew.
This couldn’t happen.
Six Months Later
Very slowly, trying desperately to clear her tear-clouded vision, she redressed in her rain-dampened clothes. The showers that had fallen around them hours before had stopped and through the open curtains she could see the first gray beginnings of sunrise tinting the sky. She’d left Ann four hours before.
She turned away from the window to look in the mirror, pinning her hair up with a clip she found in her soggy purse. Her reflection starred back at her; hair disheveled, eyeliner faintly smudged underneath red, watery eyes, a bottom lip that no matter how hard she tried to set it wouldn’t stop trembling…
Sniffling back the rest of her tears she swiped at the makeup under her eye and took a deep breath, turning away from the mirror to find Orlando standing just outside the doorway, watching her. She offered him a weak smile, one that did next to nothing to hide the conflicting emotions stirring deep inside her. Ones he was feeling himself.
Five minutes later he was watching her walk out the door no promises about keeping in touch spoken by either of them. From his window he watched her step out onto the street and slip into a cab, turning away only when the car was gone from sight. Letting the curtain he held back fall across the window once more, muting the bright sunlight that cast its brilliant rays into the living room, he kept his eyes on the busy street below. Behind him the television droned on, the chatter coming from the mindless TV tabloid show providing noise enough to keep the apartment from being completely silent.
Six months ago she’d left and he hadn’t stopped her, not that he could have even if he’d wanted to. She’d waited for him, waited far longer than she should have, and he couldn’t blame her for moving on. If anything he should have been glad that she’d finally found happiness.
“Has Keira's fairytale romance reached its final chapter?”
Turning away from the window, Orlando looked at the television in time to see Keira’s picture flash in the upper corner of the screen as the host went on.
“British actress Keira Knightley has filed for divorce from her husband of just under two years, Rupert Friend. Keira and the twenty-eight year old Friend, a failed actor and elementary school tutor from Knightley's native England, met three and a half years ago through a director, but have been separated for close to six months. Reps for Knightley had no comment other then to confirm this story and say that the pair will stay on friendly terms…”
He tuned out the rest of the broadcast as a knock echoed throughout the room, lowering the volume on the set with the remote as he moved to the door. Keeping his eyes on the TV he flipped the locks, not turning to his visitor until the door was completely open.
Standing on the other side of the panel, in all her jeans, tee shirt, sneakers and ponytailed glory… was Keira.
Standing in his doorway, the most uncertain expression he’d ever seen gracing her eyes as she twisted her hands together in front of her, she looked years younger than the twenty-five she was. Wisps of hair fell recklessly from the rubber band holding the rest of it back, the pieces framing her face, and when she reached up to brush them away the absence of a ring on her finger was blaringly clear.
“Keira…” he breathed out, the surprised and not altogether –though unintentional- happy tone of his voice doing nothing to diminish the nervousness she felt.
“Hi…” she answered, biting on her bottom lip. “I um… I… I… ugh,” She stumbled over her words, not knowing what the say to him. For once in her life she was completely at a loss, and as she fought to sort out what she could say so clearly in her mind -and what she’d rehearsed more than a few times on the plane to New York- the mounting frustration seemed to get the better of her as she shook her head and waved her hand, turning away from where he stood to walk back down the hallway to the elevator. “Never mind…”
“Wait... Keira,” he called, leaving his open doorway and following her to where she stood, feverishly pressing the control of the elevator. He covered her hand with his, stilling her movements and spoke her name softly again.
“I couldn’t do it anymore…” she whispered in response to his silent question, her eyes on the floor.
“Couldn’t do what?” he asked, releasing her hand.
“Lie to myself.” He heard the beginnings of tears in her voice, ones that she kept from falling as she spoke.
“Keira…”
She cut him off by raising her eyes to his, whatever uncertainty she felt before gone now, the beautiful mixes of green and gold clearer than they’d been in a while. “I have my answer now, Orlando. I-I didn’t before… but I do now.”
“What answer?” he asked, keeping his eyes locked with hers for a moment before she looked down again.
“That night… the one you let me walk away… you asked me if I loved him like I love you… and I thought about it all night… even when I got back to the hotel and he was there waiting for me… I thought about what you’d asked me… and I finally found my answer,” she said, blinking rapidly to hold her tears at bay.
Like I love you… Love, not loved. He swallowed hard as he stared back at her, both of them ignoring the bell of the elevator car. “And what answer did you find?” he asked in a raspy whisper.
With one single tear descending the curve of her cheek she brought her eyes to his again, releasing a shaky breath as she answered. “No… I didn’t love him the way I love you.”
Seconds that felt more like hours passed them by in silence as he contemplated his answer. “And it took you six months to realize that?” he asked, catching and holding her eye.
She shook her head and looked down at her feet once more before answering him honestly. “I’ve always known it, Orlando. I just needed to decide on my own, without you or Rupert, what was right for me.” Inhaling deeply, she returned her gaze to his, offering him a faint smile. “But… I’m here now…” she whispered.
He reached out to brush what remained of that lone tear off her cheek, letting his palm linger against her warm skin while he moved his thumb back and forth. “How long are you in town for?” he asked softly, repeating the words he’d spoken on that rainy night so many months ago.
Catching his hand with her own, threading their fingers together, she smiled at him… and the sight took his breath away. “As long as you want me to,” she answered.
Keeping hold of her hand he led her away from the elevator and back through the door he’d left open, letting it close behind them with a soft click.
THE END
hope ya'll enjoyed it! i could have continued but decided to end it there so i can start work on my next one, and im also gonna try and finish off my own drabble challenge that i started in may. oops.
as always i love to hear what yall think, good and bad! thanks everyone for support on this fic!