Fairytale Come Alive

Chapter Nine Tiny Dancer

Isabella

“I don’t get to keep the petals?” Sally asked from beside Isabella in the backseat of the Rolls Royce. Sally was carrying her basket of velvety red rose petals, still wrapped in film.

“No, sweetheart, you have to throw them on the ground so Annie can walk on them,” Isabella answered, fidgeting in her seat.

She’d managed to remain calm and act joyful during the entire morning of getting ready at Fergus’s house but now, with the church getting closer and closer (thus, seeing Prentice after last night getting closer and closer), she was losing it.

Mikey, Isabella worried, saw through her artificial calm, considering he spent a lot of time giving her questioning looks which she ignored.

But Isabella remained focused. Annie was beside herself with nerves, terrified some hideous event was going to happen to stop the day’s festivities.

“Tidal wave!” she’d shouted at one point even though the sun was shining and the nip in the air had disappeared and it was an unseasonably warm day.

“Annie, there’s not going to be a tidal wave,” Isabella replied sedately, watching from her place lounging fully dressed and completely done up on her friend’s bed as the stylists fashioned Annie’s hair.

“What’s a tidal wave?” Sally whispered loudly, lounging beside her.

Isabella looked at Prentice’s daughter.

From the minute Debs had deposited Sally at Fergus’s that morning (which caused Isabella more anxiety but Debs had only looked at her inquisitively then she’d shocked Isabella by giving her a tentative smile then she’d transferred Sally’s small hand directly to Isabella’s and left without uttering a single word), Sally had barely been away from Isabella’s side.

“I’ll explain later. Miss Annie is having a crisis of the mad mind,” Isabella whispered back, also loudly.

“I’m not mad,” Annie snapped, sounding mad.

Sally stared in astonishment at the usually good-humored Annie.

Then she whispered, again loudly, “What’s a crisis of the mad mind?”

Isabella laughed and gave the girl a hug, promising into Sally’s hair (which, at Sally’s insistence, Isabella herself had done), “I’ll explain that later too.”

The stylists had managed to tame Annie’s mad hair. The makeup artist had managed to make up her face through Annie alternately ranting and squirming. And Isabella and Annie’s other two bridesmaids had managed to get her dressed.

And she looked stunning.

Surveying her, Isabella remarked, “I think the only thing you have to worry about is knocking Dougal dead when he sees how beautiful you are.”

At her words, Annie jumped forward, covered Isabella’s mouth and shouted, “Don’t tempt the fates!”

Isabella laughed under Annie’s hand. Then she hugged her. Then she gave her the sapphire and diamond bracelet that was to be her friend’s something new and part of her something blue. Then she gave Annie her mother’s sapphire and diamond earrings that were to be her something old. Then she gave Annie her own sapphire and diamond pendant that was to be her something borrowed.

Then Annie burst into tears and the makeup artists had to do a touch up.

Now, they were on their way, Isabella and Sally with Annie’s two other bridesmaids, Patty and Hannah, sharing one Rolls. Annie following with Fergus in the other. Neither bridesmaid was a villager (thankfully). Patty was an old friend from Northwestern that Isabella had long since lost touch with and Hannah had been a trainee physical therapist Annie met during her rehabilitation.

Patty and Hannah were both wearing lovely, but differently styled, sapphire blue dresses.

That day, Isabella discovered that they were allowed to choose their style dress.

Isabella’s was Annie’s choice. A strapless sheath, it fit her like a glove and had no ornamentation.

Until just above her knees.

There, it burst in a wide slit, the hem and slit sporting two, layered, opulent ruffles that trailed down and back in a short train (neither Patty nor Hannah’s dresses were anything near as lavish).

Annie had also chosen her shoes, ultra-sexy, very-high, spike-heeled, delicate strappy sandals that were even a challenge for Isabella to wear and she wore high heels all the time.

The dress was gorgeous, as were the shoes. But both were sexy, managing to be sophisticated as well as daring.

She looked like a cosmopolitan flamenco dancer.

It was too bold and too chic for a church wedding attended by villagers who hated its wearer.

Fortunately (or unfortunately as the case definitely was), Isabella had bigger things to worry about.

Things as big as a handsome, tall, powerfully built architect who was likely not going to be happy he woke up alone.

She had no idea what came over her last night. She’d barely even tried to push Prentice away.

No, she knew what came over her. Prentice had always had a unique talent with being able, quickly, to excite her.

Laurent, her only other lover, had called her frigid on more than one occasion (in other words, regularly).

For twenty years, she’d lamented the fact that she and Prentice had never made love. She’d fantasized about it again and again, when she was with him and after they were over.

And last night, she had it.

And, to her shock, it was better than any of her fantasies.

Far better.

Way far better.

And because of that, she’d been weak. A coward. And selfish, selfish, selfish.

She hadn’t protected him. She’d taken what he gave and then got greedy.

She didn’t know what he was thinking and couldn’t let her mind go there. She just knew that her life was not filled with lucky happenstance. Where she went, tragedy and despair followed.

And Prentice, Jason and Sally had enough of that.

Too much.

Therefore, she was sticking to her plan regardless that things seemed to change last night and change a great deal.

She was leaving directly after the reception.

She’d even talked Fergus into following her to the estate where they were holding the reception so she could drop her fully packed rental there and make a fast getaway.

In the car on the way back to his house, Fergus had offered, “With Annie gone tonight, if things aren’t working at Prentice’s, you can sleep in her room.”

“Thank you, Fergus, but I need to get going.”

“Your flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow,” he reminded her.

“I know and things are fine at Prentice’s. Really. It’s just too much, for all of us.” She turned from her study of the landscape to look at his handsome profile and asked softly, “You understand, don’t you?”

“Haven’t had any time with you myself, lass.”

Her heart lurched. He was right and she remembered again just how much she liked Fergus.

She did her best to ignore her heart and her best, as ever, wasn’t good enough.

“Come to Chicago next year with Annie and Dougal. I’ll spend loads of time with you there. I’ll even take you to a Cubs game,” she suggested.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and shook his head.

Then he said, “Never understood American baseball.”

“That’s fine. I’ve never understood English football,” she returned teasingly.

“Football’s football, the world over, except in America, where its soccer. Always have to buck tradition, you Americans.”

She laughed, Fergus chuckled and she relaxed.

For about two seconds.

Then her mind filled with Prentice again and she started fidgeting.

“They’re too pretty to be walked on!” Sally exclaimed, taking Isabella from her thoughts.

“What are, honey?” Isabella murmured distractedly.

“The petals!” Sally cried.

Isabella turned to focus on the girl, kissed the top of her head then put her hands to both sides of her beautiful face.

She examined it at the same time she memorized every feature.

Then she whispered, “It’s tradition. A magical tradition. Every heroine at the end of a fairytale gets to walk to her hero on a bed of rose petals. And you get to create that magic. Don’t you want to do that for Annie?”

Sally’s face had gone from near to pout to spellbound.

“I didn’t know it was magic,” Sally breathed.

Isabella heard Hannah chuckle.

“Well it is,” Isabella told Sally.

Sally nodded enthusiastically. “I wanna create magic.”

“We all do,” Patty commented. “But this time, it’s all yours, precious.”

Sally, eyes wide, sat back and sighed in happy contentment.

Isabella looked out the window and her heart leapt to her throat in terror.

They were arriving at the church and Prentice, wearing a dark suit (not a tux or morning suit, Dougal had put his foot down) that not only fit him beautifully but he was wearing unbelievably well, was standing outside.

Oh dear.

The Rolls Royce barely halted before Prentice was there, hand to the door handle, pulling it open.

He leaned in, his every-colored eyes pinning Isabella to the spot before he grasped her hand and pulled her from the car.

“What on earth?” Hannah whispered.

“Daddy!” Sally shrieked.

The minute her feet hit the pavement, Isabella didn’t get the chance to say a word, Prentice started walking, dragging her behind him.

Annie was out of her Rolls, her face white a sheet.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as Prentice and Isabella came up to her.

Prentice halted and when he did so, he yanked Isabella against his side and his arm clamped firm around her waist.

Annie’s eyes dropped to his arm. Fergus had also alighted and his eyes did the same.

“Everything’s fine,” Prentice announced but his voice was tight. “The groom is waiting and he’s a fucking wreck, wanting you to beam here using space age technology from a television show rather than ride here in a car. Clarissa called and she and Jennifer’s car had problems but everything is fine now and they’re five minutes away. We’ll start when the mother-of-the-bride and the mother-of-the-groom finally arrive.”

Annie breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Prentice’s eyes sliced to Fergus.

“Keep Sally here. Elle and I have to talk,” he ordered.

At his words, Annie started, her eyes getting wide.

Fergus’s gaze moved to Sally, who had joined them and was looking from one adult to another appearing happy but confused.

Then Fergus grinned, he curled firm fingers on Sally’s shoulder, pulling her to his legs and he nodded to Prentice.

Prentice didn’t hesitate further. Dropping his arm from her waist, he took her hand again and dragged her around the side of the church.

“Prentice,” she snapped, tugging at her hand unsuccessfully, her heart tripping over itself. “Stop! What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. He dragged her around the side of the church to the back where he stopped.

“What on earth?” she asked irately, deciding to go with anger because fear was not an option.

She could be weak she just couldn’t show weakness. That was a lesson her father drilled into her using a variety of different methods.

Prentice tugged her toward him, she collided with his hard body then he stepped forward, taking her with him.

She hit the stone wall of the church, tipped her head back, mouth open to give him what for for scaring Annie and dragging Isabella around but she didn’t get out a sound.

He kissed her.

Hard, demanding, wet, deep and thorough.

It was a great kiss.

Of their own volition (not that she had the will to stop them) her hands slid up his shoulders, around his neck and she melted in his arms.

After he was done and she was putty in his hands, he lifted his head and his eyes bored into hers.

“That’s what I would have done if you’d have woken up in my arms,” he told her.

Her breath caught and her body trembled.

“Or part of it,” he finished.

“Prentice –” she started.

“I changed my mind,” he cut her off. “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want any explanations. I don’t give a fuck. I just want you.”

Her heart turned over and her belly clenched.

She tried to pull away.

He yanked her back.

“No, you don’t,” he warned, his voice low, his meaning crystal clear.

“Prentice, you don’t… you can’t…” She couldn’t think then she blurted, “Fiona.”

“Aye, we’ll talk about Fiona when the time is right.”

“But –”

His face dipped close to hers, his eyes went gentle and his voice went soft. “I told you, baby, when you came back to me, I’d make you work for it but I’d take you back. You may not want to be back but I don’t give a fuck. I’m keeping you this time.”

He remembered.

He remembered what he said.

She remembered it too. Every single word.

She felt tears sting the backs of her eyes.

“I –”

He touched his mouth to hers and she went silent.

Then he rested his forehead against hers and for some insane reason he was grinning.

“Don’t cry, Elle. Save it for when Dougal and Annie say, ‘I do’.”

“Pren –”

He kissed her silent again, this time with more than a brush on her lips.

When his mouth released hers, he didn’t give her the chance to speak; he took her hand and dragged her around to the front.

Dazed and panicked now for a different reason, Isabella noted that Clarissa and Dougal’s Mum, Jennifer, had arrived.

Everyone turned to them when Prentice dragged Isabella to the group and then fixed her to his side again with a strong arm at her waist.

“Are we ready?” he asked.

“Daddy, are you wearing lipstick?” Sally asked in return, her voice high and disbelieving, her face agog.

Fergus coughed into his hand.

Annie started giggling.

Clarissa beamed.

Jennifer stared.

Patty and Hannah started shuffling, ducking their grinning faces.

Isabella closed her eyes tight.

When she opened them, Prentice was casually wiping her lipstick from his mouth with a handkerchief.

When he’d completed this task, he tilted his head down to look at her and grinned before he whispered, “You might want to fix your lips, baby.”

Then he bent low, touched his lips to hers in front of everybody (including Sally!), left her swaying and entered the church.

Fiona

Fiona really wished she could get drunk.

Sure, it was lovely watching Annie and Dougal say, “I do”.

Bella had cried, Clarissa had cried, Old Lady Kilbride had cried, hell, there was barely a dry eye in the house even amongst the men. Even Sally had burst into tears, just for the sake of not being left out at which Bella had handed her and Annie’s bouquets to the next bridesmaid in line and picked Sally up, right in front of the congregation, cuddling her close as Sally sobbed baffled tears.

Fiona had also cried.

Hell, if you didn’t cry, you’d have to have a heart of stone.

Then they all went to the reception and in front of all and sundry, Prentice had pulled Isabella away while she was in the act of gracefully entering the Rolls.

With everyone watching in stunned, avid silence, he whirled her around and manhandled her into his Range Rover with Sally alternately skipping and dancing behind them, swinging her empty flower girl basket. Jason had followed slowly, a knowing but happy smirk on his face.

At the reception, Prentice glued Bella to his side. If she even considered making a run for it, Fiona would have sworn he’d have tackled her and wrestled her to his 4x4 and driven off into the sunset (after he’d ordered Jason and Sally into the car, of course).

He didn’t only glue her to his side, he made a public statement (but Fiona reckoned this statement was mostly directed at Bella) by being openly affectionate toward her in a way that could in no way be misread.

Annie looked delighted. It was the wedding gift she wanted above all, that was plain to see.

Dougal, at first, looked concerned. Then, as Prentice glared at the villagers, practically daring them to be mean to Bella so he could take them out (he’d even raised his brows at Hattie Fennick when she was approaching them, a nasty look on her face, but she read Prentice’s challenge, visibly paled and then switched directions at the last minute) Dougal started to become amused. Then he approached his friend, clapped him on the back and gave a surprised Bella a genuine, hearty hug.

Fergus and Clarissa were both obviously gleeful. As was Old Lady Kilbride.

And Mikey was practically crowing.

Some of the villagers seemed wary but most of them went with the flow.

It was only Bella who seemed to swing between puzzled and alarmed. The only time she seemed sure of herself was when she was with Jason or Sally (which went a long way at helping the villagers to decide to go with the flow).

And Fiona didn’t get it.

Clearly, she had a purpose for being on earth with her family. To make certain that everything was going to be all right. Now she figured that purpose was gone and her still being there was just plain mean. Or, perhaps, whatever powers that be were busy and she was low on the priority list.

Sure, she supposed she was happy that her family was healing and moving on.

But did she have to have her nose rubbed in it?

She understood when the dancing started.

The first dance was for Dougal and Annie and, again, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

Then Annie danced with Fergus and Dougal danced with Jennifer.

As they were taking their seats, Annie grinning for some reason nervously, Fiona materialized behind her. She was seating herself beside Bella and as the DJ asked the best man and maid of honor to take the dance floor, Annie quickly turned to her friend.

“I’m sorry, Bella. I arranged this a long time ago and –”

She didn’t get to finish, Prentice, never far from Bella, claimed her.

Wordlessly pulling her out of her seat, he guided her to the dance floor and then he took her in his arms.

And they danced alone on the dance floor, everyone watching, to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”.

For those who didn’t get it, watching Prentice and Bella sway barely moving, they would get it.

Even Fiona had to admit they fit perfectly. Prentice’s handsome dark head bent, his cheek pressed to hers, his lips at her ear. Bella’s beautiful white-blonde head tipped back, her cheek against his, her eyes carrying a sheen of tears, her lips trembling. Prentice’s arm was around her waist, noticeably tight. Her arm was around his shoulders, holding on as if that hold was the only thing keeping her standing.

His fingers, laced in hers, were lifted and pressed with Bella’s hand twisted and resting against his heart.

The room had melted from existence and everyone in it knew they were superfluous to what was happening on the dance floor to the sweet words of a sad, sad song.

It was a Scottish fairytale come alive, right before their eyes.

And Fiona could take no more.

She had a soft heart but this was ridiculous.

Then, on the closing notes to the song, a cold, imperious, loud voice sounded across the room.

“I should have known.”

Bella went still as a statue, almost like she was made of marble.

Prentice’s head shot up.

Fiona drifted so she could stare toward the edge of the dance floor.

An older man with impossibly good posture stood there wearing a suit and a venomous expression on his face.

Fiona had never seen him in her life and she still didn’t like him.

Bella slowly unlaced her hand from Prentice’s and turned around.

“Dad,” she whispered in a horrified voice, “what are you doing here?”

Oh God.

That was Bella’s father?

He took a step forward and raked scathing eyes down Bella’s body.

“Dressed as a whore, acting like a whore. Again,” Carver Austin said.

This time, Prentice’s body turned to marble.

Gasps were heard around the room.

But he had yet to do his worst.

Bella came unstuck and walked swiftly to him.

“Dad, let’s just go outside and –”

She didn’t finish.

When she got close enough, Fiona and everyone else was shocked to see, his hand came back and he slapped her, sadistically. The fierce crack of his palm hitting her cheek sounded revoltingly throughout the room.

She was wearing hopelessly high heels and lost balance, falling to all fours at his feet.

The air in the room turned static and nobody moved.

Except Prentice who was there in a flash, bending low, his arm around Bella’s waist, he pulled her gently up in front of him and took five steps back, his face a mask of rage.

“Get out,” Prentice growled, voice rumbling with fury and Fiona feared he’d do harm to the older man, not that the old tosser didn’t deserve it, just that it wouldn’t have been a fair fight.

Bella’s father barely glanced at Prentice, his voice went high and mocking when he taunted, “Dad, I love him. He’s not just a fisherman but even if he was, I wouldn’t care. I love him. I want to marry him. I want to spend the rest of my life in that village with him.”

When he was done, everyone in the room, including Fiona, knew Mr. Austin was taunting Bella with her own, heartbreaking, long ago uttered words.

Most especially Prentice, whose face had gone white and whose arm around Bella had tightened.

But Carver Austin wasn’t done.

“And here you are, first chance you get, throwing yourself at him like a common tart. What is the matter with you?”

“Carver, I think you should leave,” Fergus was close, Dougal and Annie at his back.

Carver glared at Fergus then his eyes scraped over Dougal. “You should know better,” he said scornfully, speaking to Fergus but referring to Dougal.

“Carver, leave,” Fergus demanded.

“I’ll go and I’m taking Isabella with me. I should have never let her spend time with your daughter.”

Prentice opened his mouth to speak but Jason was suddenly standing in front of Carver Austin, close in front of him.

“You’re not taking Miss Bella anywhere!” he shouted and Carver didn’t hesitate. He shoved Fiona’s son aside, striding toward his daughter.

Fiona prepared to launch a ghostly attack but she didn’t get her chance.

Bella wrenched free of Prentice’s arm and she took two angry steps toward her father, switched directions and caught Jason with an arm around his chest. Pulling him roughly so his back was against her front, she backed up, dragging Jason with her.

Her hold and actions fiercely protective, her words, spoken in a tone so harsh, it was scratching and hard to hear, seconded her actions.

“Don’t you dare touch him. Don’t you dare. Hit me, humiliate me, criticize me, but don’t you dare touch Jason.”

She backed into Prentice and stopped. His arm slid around her waist instantly. Sally, face full of fear, ran through the crowd and threw her arms around Bella’s thighs. Burying her face in her own arm, Sally held onto Bella as she trembled.

Bella’s hand not around Jason went to the nape of Sally’s neck.

Carver took this all in, not missing a thing, especially not the fact that Jason shared his father’s unusual eye color.

“Well done, Isabella. Ready-made family. You claimed your fisherman and now you can finally play house like you’ve always wanted.”

The cruelty of his words sent Fiona reeling back several inches.

Was this man actually Bella’s father?

Prentice had a different reaction.

Again in a growl, this one as frightening as it was threatening, he demanded, “Fergus, I swear to Christ, get him the fuck out of here.”

It was Dougal that strode forward stating, “You’re done, mate.”

Carver glared at him. “Don’t lay a hand on me.”

“Allow me to lay a hand on you,” Mikey said from behind Carver then he bunched Carver’s suit jacket in his fist, turned and hustled the older man inelegantly out the door.

Fergus and Dougal’s father, Hamish, followed.

Bella and Fiona’s family stood still on the dance floor, the eyes of everyone in the room were on them.

Bella moved first. Pulling free of Prentice’s arm and gently disengaging from Sally and Jason only long enough to crouch down, she brought Sally in close with her arm and, with her other hand, she cupped Jason’s jaw and looked in his face.

“Are you okay, Jason?” she asked softly.

“Is that your Dad?” Jason asked in reply.

Tears threatening to roll down her cheeks, Bella didn’t answer. She just nodded.

“He’s a wanker,” Jason announced.

Fiona thought her son was not wrong.

Bella gave him a trembling smile.

Then she stood, letting go of the children, face pale, tears now rolling silently down her cheeks, she took in the assemblage gazing at her with varying degrees of sadness and compassion.

Her eyes caught on Annie.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Oh Bella,” Annie whispered back and started to walk toward her but Bella’s hand shot up.

“No,” she said, taking in a breath. “It’s me. That dark cloud follows me. I shouldn’t have come.”

Fiona’s heart squeezed.

Bella wrote a lot about her “dark cloud” in her journals.

A lot, a lot.

“Bella,” Annie breathed, obviously knowing about the dark cloud.

But Bella looked away.

She laid a hand on Jason’s head, sliding it down to rest on his cheek, she allowed herself that minute touch and then her hand dropped away.

She turned to Sally, cupping Fiona’s daughter’s cheek in her trembling hand, her fingers curled and she stroked that cheek with her knuckles before she turned to Prentice.

“Elle,” he murmured, his hand moving to her waist but she scurried away.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Baby.”

That was something else Fiona could do without. Prentice called Sally “baby” and Fiona had heard, a long time ago, him calling Bella that same endearment.

He’d never called her anything but “Fiona” or, when he was feeling affectionate, which she had to admit was often, he called her “Fee”.

She could do without hearing her husband’s deep brogue calling Bella “baby” in the same way he held her in bed that morning, like she was precious.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Bella repeated.

Then she turned on her hopelessly high heel and she gracefully ran.

Fiona always knew she could run gracefully in those heels.

Prentice didn’t hesitate, he went after her.

“Watch the children,” he ordered Debs when he passed his ashen sister.

Fiona sped behind them.

He caught her at her rental car.

Hands to her hips, he pulled her from the open door, slammed it, twirled her around, took a step into her and pinned her against the car.

“You didn’t leave me,” he declared, his voice hoarse.

She shook her head, those silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

“What did he do to you?”

She shook her head, refusing to answer.

Prentice’s hands went to either side of her neck and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Did he hit you?”

She stared up at him, mutely crying.

Prentice dipped his face to hers and his voice got soft, “Baby, did he hit you?”

She bit her lip and her eyes slid away.

Prentice’s head came up.

“Christ!” he swore so viciously, Fiona was surprised the windows on the cars didn’t shatter.

Bella winced.

“He kept you from Annie, didn’t he? When she got hurt. Because she was here. He kept you from her to keep you from me.”

She closed her eyes slowly.

Then she opened them and nodded.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Prentice growled.

Bella finally spoke, her voice timid and soft, a voice Fiona had never heard, a voice Prentice (by the looks of him) never heard.

Nor did he like.

“It was for the best.”

“It was for the best?” he repeated, sounding appalled.

“I’m… you…” she stammered. “You wouldn’t have Jason. You wouldn’t have Sally.” It was Prentice who closed his eyes then and Bella went on, her voice getting stronger. “You wouldn’t have had Fiona.” Prentice’s eyes opened and pain was there, Bella saw it and she swallowed. Then her hand lifted and she touched the laugh lines at the sides of his eyes with her forefinger. “You wouldn’t have those, Prentice, because you wouldn’t have had the laughter I know Fiona gave you.”

Fiona felt her throat close as she watched Prentice bend his neck and rest his forehead against Bella’s.

“I have to go,” she whispered and his head shot right back up.

“Sorry?” he asked in a dangerous tone.

“I have to go,” she repeated.

Fiona watched Prentice’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“I have to go,” she said yet again.

Fiona got close and shouted, Don’t. Don’t Bella. This isn’t you. You aren’t the dark cloud. That was all your father. Don’t do this. Don’t go.

“You aren’t going,” Prentice declared.

“I am. I have to,” she told him.

“You aren’t and you can’t,” he shot back.

“Don’t you see?”

“No, I fucking well do not.”

Her body jolted. “Annie and Dougal’s wedding, perfect, except for me.”

“You didn’t ruin their wedding.”

“No? Who did? Me being here brought my father here and –”

“This is insane, Elle. You aren’t –”

“Insane? Like my mother?” Fiona watched Prentice’s head jerk but Bella wasn’t done. “She was insane, Prentice. People in their right minds don’t kill themselves.”

“People in their right minds find reasons to kill themselves every day,” he returned.

“You don’t know.”

“You don’t either.”

“I know my mother wasn’t in her right mind. I know that for certain.”

“Elle –”

“And you don’t need that in your life or in your children’s lives.”

Prentice’s face grew stunned. “Are you saying –?”

“I’m saying I’m a product of her and him and that is what you’ll have around your children if we carry on with this madness.”

“You may be a product of them, Elle, but you’re you.”

“And who’s that, then? You said yourself you don’t even know me!”

“Yes, I do. You’re the girl I fell in love with twenty years ago. That girl came home drunk two nights ago. Last night, she let me make love to her, telling me it’s never been that good, and later, she slept in my arms.”

“That girl isn’t me.”

Prentice glared at her.

Bella glared back.

Then he tore his hand through his hair and, at that gesture, Fiona knew he was losing patience because she’d seen him do it many times before.

“This is ridiculous,” he clipped.

Yes, losing patience.

“I agree, just let me go.”

His eyes narrowed. “I told you, this time I’m keeping you.”

She put her hands to his chest and gave a hearty shove. Prentice’s torso rocked back but then came in closer.

“You can’t keep me,” she snapped. “I don’t want to be kept.”

He put his face close to hers. “Bollocks.”

She pulled in breath through her nose and looked at the heavens.

When she looked back at him, she asked, “Prentice, don’t you see?”

Fiona shouted, No! No, he doesn’t see! You have to tell him. You have to tell him so he can sort you out. He has no idea. You HAVE GOT to TELL him.

Bella shook her head to clear Fiona’s words.

And then she said, “It’s for the best. It was twenty years ago, and you can’t deny that.” His mouth got tight at that and Bella went on, this time quietly, “It will be again. You’ll find happiness, Prentice. It’s just never something you’d find with me.”

Prentices eyes got hard. “Elle, you get in that car and drive away, that’s it. You leave me and the children this time, if you get second thoughts and you come back, I’ll no’ make you work for it. There’ll be nothing to work for.”

To Fiona’s shock, disappointment, anger and sadness, although Bella’s face paled and her throat convulsed, her head nodded.

Prentice felt those same four emotions and he didn’t hide them.

His voice was gruff when he stated, “The last time, even though I didn’t know it, you were taken from me. This time, if you leave, it’s all you.”

Fiona saw Bella’s eyes flash with indecision.

“Prentice,” she whispered.

Don’t get in that car, Bella, Fiona shouted, Don’t do it.

Then, seeing Bella make her decision (the wrong one) and shift toward the door, Fiona tried yelling at Prentice.

Don’t let her go. She needs you to save her. She needs her knight in shining armor, not a man who’d let her go. This is twice, Prentice, and you don’t even know this is all on you. Twenty years, and it’s all YOU. You should have gone to save her the last time and you let her go. This is the same. She isn’t leaving you, she has this idea that she’s saving you. This is NOT her LEAVING. This is YOU LETTING HER GO!

As usual, Prentice didn’t hear a word Fiona said.

And by the time she was done yelling, Bella was in the car and she didn’t even look at Prentice’s angry, tight face as she reversed the rental out of the spot and she didn’t look back as she drove away.