Waiting for Romeo (23 page)

“Nice to see you, Miss King.” Stan says warmly.

“Nice to see you too, Stan. Please call me Emilia. You have quite the collection of cars. I think this is what the third or fourth one I’ve seen you in and it’s a different one every time.”

He chuckles and nods towards Logan. “Yes, Emilia. It’s quite the collection.”

“By the way, I wanted to thank you for your driving skills the other day. I definitely know who to call when I need a quick getaway.” I grin as Logan gently pulls my waist signaling me it’s time to go.

“My pleasure.” Stan smiles.

We slide into the leather seat and I’m once again in awe at the monstrosity of a stretch limousine. We sit in the back seat but along the side is another lengthy leather seat that could easily fit a dozen people.

“How about some champagne?”

“Sure, but just a little. It’s early and I think I’d better pace myself. I’m guessing we have a long day…and night ahead of us.” I smile, shyly.

“Yes and a long drive.” Popping open the champagne, he pours it into two crystal flutes and hands me one.

“To my beautiful Valentine.” He raises his glass.

“Thank you for this.” I clink my glass with his and we both take a sip. “So, you said we have a long drive?”

“Right. We’re going to Topanga.” He says, watching my reaction.

“Topanga? In L.A. or is there a Topanga somewhere else?” I ask, excitedly.

“In L.A…that’s why the long drive. It’s off Topanga Canyon…have you ever been there?”

I smile at him. “To Topanga? No. I know where it is…what’s there? It sounds like there might be some cliff diving.” I smile as I take another sip of champagne. It’s so light and bubbly. I have to remind myself to take little sips.

He laughs. “There might be, but we’re not doing that…maybe another time.” He pauses a minute and wraps his arm around me, nuzzling my neck and breathing in my hair.

Then he continues talking. “I can’t tell you how good this feels to be here with you after an incredibly shitty week. I was originally going to drive, but then I thought this was a much better idea. Either way I would have enjoyed your company, but this way I get to touch you and if I were driving you it would be impossible for me to not touch you when you’re looking so lovely.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Prescott. It is definitely a nicer way to travel and you can drink some champagne…another plus.”

“There’s only one plus in my book.” He kisses my hand.

“Is Stan in Santa Barbara permanently now?” I gaze in Stan’s direction, but his eyes are focused on the road ahead.

“He goes back and forth, although he is in Santa Barbara more now because of the hotel.” He pulls me close as his hand drifts across my bare back, his thumb gently skimming it. “Did I tell you I like this dress?”

I smile. “Yes. I’m glad you like it.” My head already feels the effects of the champagne or maybe it’s his touch. I feel his lips near my ear and I know I need to get what’s bothering me off my chest, before I completely lose my train of thought, especially since Bryn has made clear the urgency of the matter.

“You okay?” He whispers and then leans back, glancing at me, warily.

“Um.” I say, reluctantly as I glance in Stan’s direction.

“You’d prefer some privacy?” He asks.

I nod and squirm, slightly in my seat because I’m worried he’ll think I’m being selfish. My subconscious reaffirms me this isn’t about Sebastian and his problems. This is about
her
.

“Stan?” He asks and I already regret saying something.

“I’m just going to put up the partition for a bit. I’m pretty sure I’m in a bit of trouble.” Logan smiles in bemusement at me. “Emilia wants to speak to me in private…she seems pretty pissed.”

I roll my eyes at his playful teasing. “Stan, don’t listen to him. Logan lies. I’m not pissed about anything.” I look at Logan and shake my head, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing.

Stan smiles and nods at me from the rearview mirror.

Logan laughs. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. I love the way you say
liar
and
lies
. You have this faint southern accent that’s just so irresistible.”

“Southern accent?” I laugh.

“You are from Virginia, right?” Logan asks, amused.

“Yes, but I don’t have an accent.”

“You do when you says Logan
lies
or Logan’s a
liar.
”

“Well, you do
lie.
I’m not pissed at you.” I say, affirmatively.

Logan smiles as the partition goes up and we are now privately ensconced in the back of the limo.

“I can’t help it if your adorable southern drawl is a turn-on. I realized it the other day when you told Chloe I was a liar about the sex wax. You’ve never been told you have a slight accent?”

I shake my head. “No, but probably because you’re the first person I’ve called a
liar
.” I arch a brow.

He grins. “Possibly.” He takes my hands in his, kissing it tenderly. “Now, let’s clear the air so we can enjoy the rest of this afternoon and night. Yes?”

I nod. Maybe I should have planned this out in my head. How should I say this without sounding like a jealous bitch? How about…could you please tell Seraphina to go fuck herself and stop calling you because I don’t trust her and if she makes one inappropriate move towards you, Bryn will fucking cunt punt her across campus? I think I got all off Bryn’s expletives in there.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, preparing myself for his disappointment in me. Opening my eyes, I see his eyes are on mine. I blink and he smiles, his light eyes crinkling at the edges.

“I think I know what this is about.” He says before I can get the words out…what a chicken shit I am.

“You do?” I whisper.

“You don’t want me talking to her. Right?” He says, softly. Staring at me, he leans forward and kisses me on the forehead.

“I told you before that I understood. That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?” His expression turns anxious.

I nod. “Yes. But honestly, Logan, I trust you. I wouldn’t have…well, I wouldn’t have wanted you to make love to me if I didn’t trust you. You know that, don’t you? It’s just that it’s
her
.”

“I understand. It’s done.” He smiles, reassuringly at me.

“What do you mean…it’s done?” I frown.

“I told her to stop calling me.” He says in a matter of fact tone like this is old news.

I look at him, trying to make sense of it. Did he tell her because of our earlier conversation? Did I seem that insecure about it all? I try and remember what was said. But before I can ask another question, he explains.

“She called me initially to tell me about Sebastian going into the hospital.” He pauses briefly and I nod. “After that she called a couple times with updates on how he was doing and what was going on, but then it was obvious she was just calling to talk. And, that’s when I told her to stop.”

I let out a breath not realizing I was holding it. Bryn was right. Her words are fresh in my mind: She’s someone who sets her sights on something or
someone
and will do whatever it takes to get it.

“Oh.” I swallow. “Well, thanks for that.” I don’t really know what to say. As much as I’m grateful that he told her to stop calling him, I wonder if she will ever leave him alone.

“Look, I’m not going to let anyone or anything jeopardize us. I told you that and I meant it. I love you, Emilia. I won’t lose you again. She’s a big part of the reason why I lost you in the first place. I tried to be nothing but a friend to her and for a long time I thought it was mutual. I know now what she’s like and I won’t put up with her shit.”

I smile. “I love you, too.” I whisper as I gaze into his heated eyes.

Scooping my legs up so they’re on his lap, he leans down slowly and kisses me deeply. His one hand is spread across the middle of my back, while the other cradles my head as I slide beneath him on the cool leather seat. His lips move against mine and then along my neck and jaw.

One of my hands reaches into his hair, pulling him towards me, while the other slowly slips the buttons out of their buttonholes…one by one. My hand caresses his hard stomach then slides around to his firm back. Slipping his hand under my dress, he strokes my thigh and firmly kneads my bottom. I moan, quietly into his mouth.

Neither of us notice when the partition opens up until Stan clears his throat. It takes Logan a quick second to pull my dress down and draw us both upright so we’re both sitting with his hand tightly around my waist.

We both quietly steady our breathing. “We’re here?” Logan asks while he quickly buttons up his shirt.

“Yes.” Stan says, glancing in the rearview mirror.

I lean over and kiss Logan softly on the lips. “Thanks for the lovely ride.” I say, softly.

“We’ll have another lovely two hour drive back.” He says.

“Yes and probably nothing left to talk about. What will we do?” I tease.

Logan’s eyes gleam, knowingly. “I think we’ll figure something out…” His voice trails off as he gently kisses my hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I HAVE TO PINCH MYSELF TO SEE IF I’M DREAMING. We’re nestled in a canyon, in the middle of the woods, a rustic, but beyond beautiful setting. There are tall trees and vines as far as the eye can see. Surrounded by mountains, the overgrown trees and rocky trails, give the place a magical feel.

Taking my hand in his, we approach an old wooden bridge and cross a small babbling brook. In the distance, there are two wooden stages, one small and the other in an amphitheatre setting with stadium seating and a lovely tree house-like backdrop. I figure we must be seeing a concert…possibly a private concert since we seem to be the only people here.

“What a beautiful place.” I say, softly. “It’s so quiet…I think we might have beaten the crowds.”

“There won’t be any crowds. I rented the place out.” He smiles down at me.

I smile back at him. “Concert?” I ask as we walk closer to the theatre. The leaves on the ground crunch underneath our feet as we walk.

“I think you’ll figure it out soon.” He nods in the direction of some of the surrounding trees.

If the tranquil and charming setting wasn’t enough, adding to the dreamlike feel, there are now women dressed up like fairies and men like woodland nymphs, peeking out behind some of the trees as we near the theatre.

Immediately I know it’s not a concert that we are seeing when I spot a barely clothed man, with the exception of horns, pointy ears and some carefully placed leaves.

“Puck.” I smile. It would be impossible for me not to recognize the shrewd, yet mischievous sprite made famous in one of my favorite Shakespeare plays.

“We’re seeing a Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I say, excitedly because I know there’s no question about it.

A young man appears, quietly says a few words to Logan, and then asks us both to take a seat. Logan takes my hand and we sit so our sides our touching on the long wooden seat.

“Logan, this place is amazing. I feel like I’m in a dream. It’s just so…so enchanting. Where are we? I find it hard to believe we are in Los Angeles.”

He grins and leans closer, wrapping his arm around me. “It’s called the Will Geer Theatricum. It is pretty amazing, isn’t it? I know what you mean about it being hard to believe we’re in L.A.”

I nod. “It’s like another world…I feel like I’ve been transported into Shakespearean times. You were right about me loving this.” I beam.

At that moment, the play opens with Theseus awaiting his wedding to Hippolyta.

Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace; four happy days bring in another moon, but O, methinks, how slow this old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, like to a step-dame or a dowager. Long withering out a young man revenue.

The play follows the adventures of four young Athenian lovers, a group of amateur actors, and their interactions with woodland fairies, a duke and a duchess. Since the story takes place in an enchanted forest with star-crossed lovers as well as fairies, wood sprites and elves, seeing the play in this magical setting gives it all a slightly surreal feeling.

It’s one of Shakespeare’s comedies with exaggerated characters that are trying to find their way in life and in love with hilarious complications. Puck is one of my all time favorite characters from all of Shakespeare’s plays. I love his sentiment that falling in love can make fools of us all.

I am mesmerized by it: the setting, the play, the costumes, the acting, everything. But what I’m even more overwhelmed by is that this is the most thoughtful and romantic gesture I could ever imagine in all my life.

Watching the play in silence, except for when we laugh at certain developments in the plot, Logan keeps me close at his side. His fingers occasionally skim the back of my neck or the middle of my thigh, the spot where my hem of the bottom of my mini dress hits my leg.

The play is coming to a close when Logan releases my hand and drapes it around my shoulder, his thumb slowly stroking my back. His gentle touch sends delicious tremors all over my body.

He leans and kisses me, just below my ear. “I’m looking forward to our drive home together.”

My eyes glance at him. “Me too.” I mouth over the closing of the play.

Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck now to ‘scrape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends are long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.

Instead of immediately heading back to Santa Barbara, we drive about a minute to another magical spot. The brass sign over the rustic pergola reads: The Inn of the Seventh Ray. The restaurant is in the same idyllic setting as the theatre. The secluded wooden pavilion is covered with twinkling lights twined around large lush trees…the perfect romantic destination for Valentine’s Day.

The tables are scattered throughout the indoor area as well as on the tranquil outdoor patio giving it an even more intimate vibe. Without saying a word, we head to a secluded table beneath an old sycamore tree.

After looking at the menu, we stare at each other, both my hands folded in his, with our elbows on the table.

“Would you like an appetizer?” He asks, leaning forward.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll just have the salmon.” I smile, slightly. “You know you never did tell me what you were wearing last night.” I say, softly.

He pauses a minute and I think maybe he doesn’t remember our texts, but then he squeezes my hand, knowingly. “I’ll show you after we eat.”

“Promise?” I whisper.

At that moment the waitress comes and takes our order, interrupting our rather private conversation. I order the Wild Caught Sockeye Salmon, while Logan gets the Miso Braised Short Rib. She turns to leave and we return to our previous position with my hands in his across the table.

“I look forward to it.” He leans over and softly kisses my knuckles.

“You know, I will always remember this day. The limo, the play, the venue, this restaurant, – everything has been perfect. Thank you for making it all so special. I mean it. I’ll never forget it.” I smile.

“I’m glad. I wanted it to be as special as you are to me.” He murmurs.

“Have you been to that theatre before or this restaurant?” I ask, a bit reluctantly because I’m not sure I want to hear the answer despite knowing he’s adamant he didn’t date before.

“No. First time. I knew I wanted to take you to see a Shakespeare play. When I started looking into different theatres I read about this one and it sounded perfect. I had heard about this restaurant a while back…it’s one of LA’s most romantic spots.”

“It is.” I agree. “It’s lovely and so secluded.” I take a sip of water. “I loved the play too…of course
A Midsummer
is one of my favorites.”

I continue. “I remember going on a field trip in elementary school to the Folger Theatre…I think that’s what it was called. Anyway, it was in D.C. and we saw
Romeo and Juliet
. It’s a beautiful theatre, but seeing
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
ensconced in nature like this is quite an experience.”

“You must have been pretty young when you saw the play in D.C.” He smiles, leaning over the table towards me more.

“I was and I can barely remember it. I mostly remember the theatre. At the time I thought the play was too depressing. Of course, I like it more now, but back then I wanted the happily ever after. I hated sad endings. Actually, I still hate them now, but at least, I can appreciate them.”

“I know what you mean…too many sad endings in real life.” He says, quietly.

Opening a bottle of Chardonnay, our waitress has returned, she pours it into the two crystal glasses and quickly retreats.

“To happy endings.” Logan holds out his glass towards mine.

“I’ll definitely drink to that.” I clink his glass and we take a sip of the light, crisp wine.

“Did you ever see a Shakespeare play when you were younger? I think it’s almost a requirement for most elementary schools. I’m certain I was one of the only students who was actually excited about that field trip.” I smile.

Logan listens, intently, but I know he switched schools often. He probably didn’t get to experience typical school activities.

“No. I usually was in detention…and if I wasn’t in detention I was either getting suspended or expelled. Field trips and Shakespeare plays were definitely not on my agenda.”

“Sounds lonely.” I whisper, woefully.

“It was…I didn’t realize it at first, but eventually I felt empty, miserable. It’s an odd feeling. You’re out partying with people you think are friends…you’re surrounded by people, but you are really alone. It probably doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” My voice is soft. “I felt alone too, but for different reasons. I understand what you’re saying. Do you think it was just your way of coping with everything that was going on at home? With your parents not getting along and everything?”

He stares at me for a moment. His expression is soft, somber.

I add. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have brought this up. I know it was a bad time for you. I’m just trying to get to know you more, but I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.” I murmur.

“No. It’s fine. I was just thinking about what you said. I don’t think about that time much. I think I’m like you in that way…I tend to block those painful memories out too. It’s a much easier way to go through life. You build this wall up and keep it all out, but you’re the first person who has ever wanted to know about it.”

“And as difficult as it might be, I think you have to let the wall down to properly heal and to move on.” I smile, reassuringly.

“I’m sure you’re right.” He pauses. “I think it was a way of coping with everything…like you said. On the outside I’m sure it looked like we had it all, but it was all so unstable. I’m sure partying was an escape…that and it didn’t help that I was hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

I think about how hanging out with the wrong crowd has affected Logan since I’ve known him. Succumbing to peer pressure can be a dangerous thing when you’re hanging out with people who have seriously bad habits. The expression pops into my head: with friends like these, who needs enemies.

“I’m glad your parents are happier now and things are better. It must have been hard to be going through all of that and not having anyone to turn to…anyone to understand or help.” I stare into his eyes.

“Sure. It would have been nice, but they were dealing with their own issues and I was constantly disappointing them. It was a bit of a lethal combination…hard to help someone when you’re partly responsible for it.” He shrugs. “You and I both had to learn to take care of ourselves. Although in your case, it wasn’t at all your dad’s fault. I can’t imagine losing a parent like that and then going through what you were dealing with.”

“It was hard…it still is, but you know…you have to go on…as painful as it may be. There was no option for me, but to pick up the pieces and move on. As much as I would have preferred to curl up into a ball, my dad needed me. I couldn’t wallow in self-pity.”

“If anyone had the right to wallow in self-pity it would be you, Emilia. But that’s part of your allure. After all you’ve been through…you are…without a doubt…the strongest person I know, someone who will stand up to me and I like that. You can’t imagine how boring it gets when girls will do or say whatever they think you want to hear. You’re not like that…you’re sweet and caring. And what makes you even more alluring is that you’re so innocent, but at the same time so incredibly strong. It’s quite a powerful combination.”

We stare at each other. “I want to ask you something, but I’m worried you might be offended.” I say, nervously.

He immediately bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, totally confused.

“Within the first few minutes of meeting me, you told me I was cocky…
very cocky
if my memory serves me right.” He pauses for brief minute, probably to make his point.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

He continues. “And, now…after we know quite a bit more about each other you are worried I might be offended. I find that very funny.”

I smile at his playful mood. “I’m glad you think it’s funny, but really I’m serious. I don’t want you to be offended.”

He stifles another laugh, leans forward and kisses my hand. “I’m a big boy. You can ask me whatever you want and I promise I won’t get offended. Just don’t say I’m cocky because that
really
hurts my feelings.” He laughs again.

I laugh along with him. “Very funny.”

“You reminded me of something. My mom still wants a copy of that interview. You think you can get her one?”

“Um. No.” I laugh, shyly.

“Emilia, you shouldn’t be embarrassed about it. Of course I thought you were gorgeous, but…I’ve told you this…I also loved the fact that you said what was on your mind. It was refreshing to the say the least. No girl had ever spoken to me like that before.” He leans and kisses my hand.

He continues. “You didn’t care about offending me and I liked that you challenged me. Your honesty cut to the quick and unlike most girls, you didn’t give a shit about impressing me. I knew, immediately, that I wanted you. I found you completely irresistible.”

The waitress is back at our table with our food. It looks delicious and suddenly, I realize how hungry I am, remembering I haven’t eaten anything since early this morning and that was a small yogurt and a cup of coffee.

We eat in silence for a few minutes as we share each other’s food and sip our wine. The restaurant is busy, but it’s surprisingly quiet…just the sound of nature surrounding us.

“Are those frogs I hear?” I smile.

He nods. “Did you know the sounds they make are a part of their courtship and mating rituals?” He asks, in a matter of fact tone.

I laugh. “Seriously? I thought it was just their way of communicating to each other.”

“It is, but it’s for sex.” He smiles. “The male frog croaks to attract the female. I remember reading female frogs find it very sexy.”