Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(47)

“I’ve already arranged for Debs to pick them up from school. They’re spending the night with her,” Prentice said.

He saw disappointment, it was fleeting but he saw it.

His fingers curled into her neck.

When he spoke, he did it softly, “I’ll come home tonight before I go out with Dougal, take you out to an early dinner and we’ll talk.”

“I think I’ll be busy with Annie,” she replied, pulling her neck away and starting to move but he caught her hips.

She stopped, stiffened and looked at him, face again paler.

“You just said you’d watch the kids,” he reminded her.

“I forgot about Annie,” she lied.

“Elle –” he began.

She cut him off. “I’m here for Annie.”

“We need to talk.” His voice was firm.

That’s when he lost her. Her face went cold.

“No, Prentice, we don’t need to do anything. I need to get through two more days of this. Then I’m gone.”

His fingers flexed at her h*ps as his good humor slipped at her words. “You’re not.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, Prentice, I am.”

He got closer and his burgeoning anger strengthened. “Isabella, you’re not leaving my children behind like you left me behind.”

He watched her head jerk and she flinched.

Then she recovered.

“It’s for the best.”

Yes, he was getting angry.

“How do you figure that?” he returned.

“Trust me,” she shot back.

He said it even though he wasn’t certain he meant it.

Not anymore.

“Not likely.”

She pulled her h*ps from his hands and gazed up at him, her face remote. “You just proved my point,” she replied softly. “Like I said, it’s for the best.”

Before he could say more or figure out how in the f**k their situation degenerated so quickly, she turned on her bare foot and disappeared.

* * * * *

“This is the worst stag night in history with the best man standing out in the freaking cold drinking alone.”

Dougal’s words made Prentice’s body jolt as his mind was torn from Elle.

Prentice looked at his friend.

Dougal was smiling but his smile faded when he saw Prentice’s face. When Prentice saw the humor die out of Dougal’s expression, he decided that tonight was not going to be about Prentice or Elle or Jason or his dead wife Fiona.

It had been about all that shit for far too long.

It was going to be about Dougal.

“Sorry, mate. Have a lot on my mind,” Prentice murmured, stepping away from the railing.

“I can tell,” Dougal replied softly.

Prentice came abreast of his friend then he smiled.

Then he said, “Let’s get you drunk.”

Dougal watched him closely.

Then Dougal grinned.

Then they went inside and got drunk.

Chapter Eight

Aromatherapy

Prentice

The taxi slid to a halt and Prentice paid Harry, the driver, a man he’d known his whole life.

He exited the car and walked up to his house, seeing most of the windows were dark but the outside light was on and he saw soft light shining from the windows in the vestibule.

Elle had lit his way.

Seeing that, the decision he’d made at the pub cemented in his brain.

He and Elle were going to talk.

And they were going to do it now.

Prentice was drunk. Not rat-arsed but he certainly was not sober.

And he didn’t give a f**k.

He opened the door, switched off the outside light, flipped the switch on the light in the vestibule and walked into the great room.

A soft light was burning from a brand new lamp by the couch.

She’d replaced the lamp.

He surveyed the room noting something was different and it wasn’t just the f**king lamp which he told her not to replace and he instantly remembered that Elle could be just as stubborn as Annie when she got something in that head of hers, hell, she could be more stubborn which was f**king saying something.

He narrowed his eyes and saw, to his shock, she’d also swept the wood floors. And there were fresh vacuum marks on the rugs where she’d hoovered. And she’d tidied away the bits and pieces the children had left lying around.

Fucking hell.

Yes, they were f**king well going to talk.

And they were f**king well going to do it now.

He pulled off his coat, threw it on the armchair Elle drunkenly advised him to move and walked directly down the hall and up the stairs to the guest suite.

The door was closed.

Since she’d stayed with them, he’d not come up the stairs to see the door closed. Of course now the kids were out of the house. It was just Prentice and Elle.

Which meant she closed the door.

His jaw grew tighter and his resolve grew firmer.

He didn’t bother to knock, just opened the door to the darkened room.

The door to the bedroom wasn’t closed and he walked straight to it, seeing her clearly in the moonlight lying in bed.

She was on her stomach, her head facing him, her hand on the pillow in front of her face. The covers were down to her waist and the nightgown she was wearing was satin or silk. He couldn’t distinguish the color but he could tell it was one or the other from its sheen.