Fantasyland 04 Broken Dove (46 page)

“I’m not weeping,” I informed him and it was the truth.

I
wanted
to weep. I was
going to
weep when the big gorgeous hot guy who didn’t want me anymore finally was “away.” And sure, there were tears in my eyes.

But I wasn’t
weeping.

“Madeleine, your eyes are swimming with tears.”

Suddenly, I was done with this.

“Apollo, just let me go so
you
can go.”

“Speak,” he demanded.

I twisted my arm in his hold, repeating quietly, “Please, let me go.”

“Madeleine”—he dipped his face to mine, definitely impatient now and not remotely— “
speak.
”

“I made a mistake,” I whispered.

“In coming here?” he asked.

“In marrying Pol.”

He went still. He was right, my eyes were swimming in tears so he was hazy, but he went so still, I could feel it.

“I have this…thing about me.” My mouth kept going. “It’s a weakness. A failing, really. And I…well, it led me to Pol. Actually, it led to a lot of bad things but they all came through Pol. Because of this flaw, I didn’t make the right decisions. I didn’t listen to people who were telling me things I should hear. I saw what I wanted and went for it, consequences be damned.”

He said nothing, didn’t move, didn’t take his hand off me.

So my mouth kept going.

“My father told me. He told me that I shouldn’t marry Pol. And the first time it was bad,
really
bad in a way I knew it wasn’t going to get better it was only going to get worse, I should have driven myself to the hospital. Instead, I drove myself to my parents’ house.” I took a shuddering breath and slid my eyes to his shoulder. “He opened the door to me, one eye swelling shut, my nose bleeding, every breath shooting fire through me because my ribs were broken, he took one look at me and shut the door in my face.”

Apollo did something then, his hand tightened around my arm.

But that was it.

“I don’t know…I don’t know how to be taken care of,” I stammered my admission. “Because I’ve never had that. And looking back, my father was always that way. He was a bus driver and my mom worked too. But she made sure to rush home and have dinner on the table because that was what he expected. She worked as many hours as he did and still, she cooked dinner, did the dishes, the laundry, the shopping, cleaned the house. His job was driving buses, watching TV and complaining about everything under the sun
all the time.
The president and his policies. The Seahawks offensive coach. The number of Japanese cars on the road. I guess she did what she did, cowing to his every whim, just so she didn’t have to listen to him bitch if she didn’t.”

I shook my head again, eyes still to Apollo’s shoulder, and kept blathering.

“That negativity…constant,” I kept on. “My mother, by the time I could cogitate, was buried under it. So buried, she was barely even there. It consumed the air we breathed. She seemed to just drift through life with him, I swear, like she was doing her time, waiting for it to be over.”

Apollo said nothing.

I looked to his throat.

“I was trying to do right,” I said quietly. “When I got to this world. When I got a new start. I was trying to do right by finding a way to look after myself and do it not depending on someone to look after me. Finally, for once, being smart and learning to take care of myself. I depended on someone to look after me and he wasn’t up to that job and worse, he was what I needed to protect myself from.” My voice dropped lower. “I thought I had to learn from that. To be smart. To find a way to take care of myself.”

Finally, he let me go and spoke.

“I am not your husband.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“If you do, then you speak of him now because…” he trailed off on a prompt.

“Because you’re giving me everything he gave me except
more
and
better.
He gave me everything too and made it a curse.”

His voice was still cold when he stated, “And you assume I’ll do the same.”

“I don’t assume anything.” I lifted my eyes to his still blank ones. “I don’t think anything. I don’t
know
anything. Not even who I am. And that’s the point. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know how to be me. All I knew was living surrounded with negativity with two parents, one who was pissed at the world for what seemed no reason, one who was so gone, she was like a ghost. And my whole life, both of them seemed like they didn’t know I was around and clearly they didn’t care much after I was gone. Then I was living in fear with Pol and breaking free only to live on the run, hiding from him, afraid for a different reason and that was that he’d find me.”

“Maddie, your point,” he pushed and my heart sunk.

And it sunk because I was making my point, doing it honestly, sharing openly, and he still wasn’t listening.

So, I got down to my final point so this could be done.

“Well,
I
need to find me. And I need time to do that.”

His voice was arctic when he stated, “Alone time.”

“No, Apollo.” I shook my head again. “Just
time.
” I threw out a hand. “Do you have any clue what it’s like to live on the run, to live in fear, to know that if the man who seeks you finds you, you might have to take his life to save yours? Do you have any idea what it’s like to live for over a fucking
decade
knowing you gave into your weakness and made a mistake that you paid for not only in pain and misery but the death of your
child?
”

I crossed both arms over my belly and looked to the windows.

“This has been lovely, amazing, all of it, everything you’ve given me. Even fighting with you, because you showed me it was safe. I could say what I had to say without your fist connecting with my face.” I said softly. “But it takes more than fairytale worlds to fix what’s broken in me. And this is because I live every day knowing it was
me
who broke it.”

Suddenly, I felt him move and looked his way to see he was sauntering to the jade brocade cord with its golden tassel that was by the bed. He stopped at it and gave it a tug.

I then watched him move toward the windows and he did this to round the heavy handsome dark wood desk that was sitting at a diagonal in the corner, facing the room. Confusion filtered through my sadness as he pulled open a drawer and unearthed a sheet of paper.

He was picking up a quill (yes, a quill, I’d learned months ago they didn’t do ballpoints in this world) and opening a pot of ink when I got my shit together.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m being selfish. You need to go.”

“Quiet, Madeleine,” he muttered, scratching his quill on the paper.

I got quiet and watched. Back to the inkpot and to the paper. Ink. Paper. Another line. More ink. Another line.

I was so weirdly enthralled with this, caught up in my gloom, I jumped when a young boy came rushing into the room.

He looked at me, jerked his head down and up, then looked at Apollo.

“Sir?”

“A moment, Nathaniel,” Apollo replied and kept scratching.

The boy and I watched.

Finally, Apollo tossed the quill down, put the lid on the inkpot and grabbed the paper. Straightening away from the desk, he moved around it, eyes to the boy.

“Send someone to the dower house. Have them tell Loretta and Meeta that they need to prepare Lady Ulfr for the journey to the Drakkar seat,” he ordered and I sucked in breath, feeling my eyes getting huge. “Make certain it’s explained to them that Lady Ulfr needs to be equipped to attend a gale. They will also be accompanying her.”

He was folding the paper as he stopped by the boy. Once folded, he handed it to him and kept talking.

“They must make haste. We leave in an hour.”

“Right, sir,” the boy murmured.

“And take that to Achilles,” Apollo went on, dipping his head to the paper.

The boy nodded.

“Go, Nat,” Apollo commanded quietly.

The boy dashed out.

Apollo turned to me just as I forced myself to start breathing again.

And when he did, he said softly, “Come here, Maddie.”

Without delay, walking woodenly, my eyes glued to his, I walked to him. And I was staring in his eyes because they were not blank. His face was not cold. Instead, his gaze was warm on me, his face soft.

I didn’t want to hope.

But with what he said, his face that way, I was hoping.

When I made it close to him, he reached out and curled his fingers around my waist, pulling me closer then curving me into his arms.

“When we return,” he continued in his soft voice, “you will remain at the dower house for as long as you need in order to…” he hesitated and finished, “find yourself.”

Oh my God!

Was this happening?

“However, I would ask that you do this while spending some of your time with me and my children.”

Holy cow.

It was happening.

I nodded and did it quickly.

His arms grew tighter. “Alas, for the next three weeks, I cannot guarantee you will have alone time.”

“I, uh…well, that’s, um…okay,” I stammered and I did that quickly as well.

“We will be traveling with a guard,” he continued and his hold tightened further. “And the children.”

Oh boy.

I was freaking about a variety of things, including that new addition, but I said nothing.

“After what happened, I will not leave them,” he carried on. “I would not have left you but the way things were between us…”

He trailed off and I nodded again, this time that I understood.

One of his hands came up to cup my jaw just as his face dipped very close to mine.

“You must share with me more, poppy,” he urged gently. “And you must do this in order that I can know how your mind works and won’t come to mistaken conclusions just having your words that often cover much and say nothing.”

He was right. So right.

I nodded yet again and whispered, “I’ll try.”

His thumb swept my cheek and his voice was lower, deeper when he went on, still gentle. “I do now understand that it’s difficult for you to speak of these things. So in return, I will try to be more patient.”

God.

God.

He was beautiful, so,
so
beautiful.

In more ways than one.

I felt tears again sting my eyes.

“I’m sorry I screwed things up.” I was still whispering. “I was just…I’m just—”

“Cease, dove, I know what you were.”

I pulled in a breath and forged on.

“Well, since I’m explaining things, you should also know that in my world, when something happens and there are children involved, like, you know, one of the parents,” I swallowed, “died or there’s a divorce or something, we go a lot more slowly when introducing a new, well…partner to the kids. I understand,” I continued quickly, “that you think differently and they’re your kids so it’s your decision to make. But it was strange to me. Very strange. When we argued, I was thinking of my need for time but I was also thinking that they should have time to get used to me, get to know me, before they had to see me at the dinner table every night. It was…well, I thought it would be kinder to them to allow them an adjustment period. I mean, I’m not a bitch or anything but, you know, for kids who for a long time have had their father all to themselves, introducing them to the woman in his life is a lot for them to take.”

“I have not introduced my children to another…” he paused, his mouth quirking, “
partner
, so in retrospect, I see this as wise.”

He saw this as wise.

Thank God.

I relaxed in his arms.

He slid his hand down to my neck and gave me a squeeze, saying, “We must learn to talk like this, Maddie.”

Again, he was
so
right.

And again, I nodded.

That tender look slid into his eyes before he bent his neck to touch his mouth to mine and, I swear, it was crazy, I knew it, but I had to fight back bursting into tears because I missed that look and his touch so…
damned
…
much
.

“I do not like to think of your father leaving you to that man when you approached him for aid,” he whispered and I pressed my lips together and inhaled through my nose in a continued effort to fight back the tears. “You will not find such disregard here, my dove. So I urge you, along with discovering yourself, to find a way to get used to that.”