For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) (17 page)

I found it cynical that Rhys and I were discussing my unrequited affections for James, and how terrible it could be, only to find myself in a similar situation. Was he really clueless enough to not realize that he was doing the same thing to me? It seemed that karma was paying me back for hurting James, even though I hadn’t refused him with that intent. Every thought I had made less sense than the prior one and as I turned on the TV to distract myself, his face came on the news.

It was a clip from his BBC interview the day before and he looked so charmingly handsome, so relatable. I missed his eyes on me, told myself it wasn’t my fault that I fell for him, that I couldn’t help it. Watching him on TV felt like he was in my apartment, so I pitifully enjoyed his presence until I became angry again and turned it off. I fell asleep on the couch.

By the time I awoke, showered, and served myself dinner it was after 7:00 p.m. and I was starving. I ate in front of the television because my dining room table felt too formal for just me. It felt emptier after having shared it with him. Halfway through my pathetic TV dinner there was a loud, aggressive knock on the door and it startled me to where I’d dropped my fork covered in marinara sauce.

“Shit,” I complained to myself quietly, and then I heard his voice.

“Ellie, are you home?” I didn’t answer, each muscle in my body tensing. “Hello? I know you’re here, John told me you landed last night.”

I made a mental note to kill John the next time I saw him. Getting up slowly, I crept towards the door and saw him through the peephole. He looked exhausted, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and his lids heavy as he leaned against my door frame. I jumped when he spoke again, “Ellie! I need to talk to you. I’m not sure why you’re shutting me out, or if something has happened to you…please?”

He seemed so sincere, so concerned and I almost allowed him to convince me. I almost pitied him, until I remembered that he lied or kept information from me when I’d been nothing but open. And he knew how hard that was for me. Rhys was looking down at his shoes, his hands in his pockets and then he looked straight at the peephole. I took a step back, only to remember he couldn’t see me. But the way he was looking at it, it’s as if he knew I was there, watching, refusing to let him into my home and heart.

“Listen,” he said a little quieter. “If you’re there, please know I was rather looking forward to picking you up.”

My neighbor, Mrs. Phillips, an elderly woman that lived alone, came out to look at him. He turned back towards her, her jaw dropping in disbelief at whom she was staring at.

“Hello Ma’am,” he nodded. “Sorry about the noise, I’m leaving now.”

Rhys turned back toward my door and pulled out an envelope from his jacket. After writing something on it, he slipped it under my door and placed his hand upon it for a moment, and then left. “Goodnight Ma’am,” he said, nodding at Mrs. Phillips. She closed her door and I watched until he was out of sight.

Bending down to pick up the envelope I read his note on the outside.

Dearest Ellie,

Please call or text me when you get home. Your front row ticket is inside. I hope you’ll be there…you’re my good luck charm.

-Rhys

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that

I saw you, did my heart fly at your service.” -
The Tempest
, Act 3, Scene 1

A
fter two hours of obsessing, deliberating, and scrubbing the stain out of my carpet, I decided it would be unprofessional of me to skip the show. I had an obligation to the university and John would be expecting me there, but I’d be a liar if I said I only went for work. Aware that I would rather see him than not, I allowed my fascination to push me to go.

There was also the rare opportunity of attending an opening night at the Queen’s theatre. I wasn’t about to let him ruin that for me, too. Watching him would be torturous, like dangling a carrot in front of a horse, something I couldn’t have. But I also looked forward to his performance. He had worked hard for it, and I knew it would be an experience. Ultimately, my decision came down to the lie that I’d be watching Rhys as Hamlet, not the person I thought he was. My denial was unbelievable.

Regardless, I remained confident, as I dressed in a tea-length ivory dress covered in embroidered blue flowers and vines. It was stunning, a left over from my rehearsal dinner that never happened. I also added more make-up and wore my chestnut hair in cascading waves. It was exciting to get dressed up for the show and anxiety inducing to think he might see me. I made the conscious effort to arrive as late as possible, getting to my seat only five minutes before the show. Obviously, Rhys wouldn’t see me beforehand, but I didn’t put it past him to have someone waiting for me. Thankfully no one was, and I relaxed as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

Rhys didn’t come out till scene two, and when he did the entire audience applauded thunderously. He looked handsome in his fitted, elegant costume, and I took advantage that I could admire him without his knowing. I wasn’t proud of it, though. The pre-Rhys Ellie would have been disgusted with how I stared at him and listened to his melodious voice, and not the lines I knew by heart. The lines I’d worked for and represented as my own, yet couldn’t care less for in that moment. I just wanted to take him in, to absorb the most vivid memory possible because I’d never be that close to him again.

He magnetically took charge of the stage and demanded the audience’s attention, a Shakespeare fan’s dream come true. We felt Hamlet’s struggle in our bones, so much so that I forgot about my own. At least until the scene we had practiced at the park came up. My emotions overpowered me as I reminisced, because while he was performing it in front of hundreds, it felt intimate like it was just the two of us. I hated that I had allowed a man into my heart that would forever change the way I read
Hamlet
.

Rhys moved around the stage and for the first time approached directly in front of my seat. The spotlight on him spilled onto me just enough to illuminate my face, and I started squirming, worried he would see me. He spoke to the audience, but it didn’t last as his eyes looked down and found mine.

I could see him recalling that I’d be sitting there, transforming from Hamlet back into the Rhys I knew. His blue eyes looked gloomy and heavy, lacking their usual luster that wasn’t part of his act. The same sadness from behind my door was all over his face, demonstrating how my forty-eight hours of shutting him out was taking a toll on him. He paused for a moment too long, his eyebrows lifting upon discovering me. As his shock set in and what seemed like relief, I presumed he didn’t expect to see me.

Ophelia began improvising. Too much time had passed in silence and panic rose in my throat. He needed to move, to focus, and take his eyes off of me, but he couldn’t move, paralyzed by the sight before him. I looked away, at the audience, and then directly at him, waving my hand slightly and mouthing, “Go!”

After a rough blink, Rhys came back to life and continued as if nothing happened. Meanwhile I was breathless, my heart drumming against my lungs and ribs, attempting to escape my chest. Something changed in his performance. I wasn’t sure if it was enthusiasm in the form of hope, or if I was watching with a different intensity. Watching him unknowingly was one thing, but his knowledge that I was in the audience made me tense. Yet his passion, the drive with which he showed off knowing I was there, was too captivating to ignore.

The curtain dropped for a twenty-five minute intermission and the crowd immediately stirred in their seats. When the lights came on, I rose to escape to the restroom before the line grew, but was stopped by an usher.

“Miss, you’re needed backstage.”

“At whose request?”

“I’m not sure, Miss,” he shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

I hoped it was for John or Michael, that it was work related, but the further backstage he led me, I knew it wasn’t. He left me at a door with Rhys’ name on it and I gave him an annoyed glare. He recoiled apologetically, “He made me swear I wouldn’t say.”

I shook my head, put my sweaty palm on the door, and pushed it open.

Rhys was standing in front of a mirror and caught my eyes in it. He turned around quickly as they widened and whispered a shaky “Hi.” Then without filter he added, “I’ve missed you,” and started rubbing his hands together, unsure what to do with them. I imagined he wanted to reach out and grab mine, but it wasn’t a moment for closeness, and he could read it in my eyes.

Instead, he reached over and grabbed some red roses surrounded by whimsical purple flowers. “These are for your help. I’m so grateful to you,” he paused catching his breath. “I can’t believe you’re here. Why haven’t I heard from you?”

All his thoughts poured out at once exposing a flustered version of him I had yet to witness. I smiled softly. The flowers were exquisite and it was a sweet gesture, but it wasn’t the gesture I wanted from him. “Thank you, these are beautiful. Something came up with my parents,” I lied, wanting to avoid confrontation since he had to continue performing.

“Okay, we can talk later. I just… I’ve been worried about you. You shouldn’t shut me out,” he hesitated, took one step toward me and then retreated upon noticing my wince. “What do you think of the show?”

“You’re really good,” I said sincerely, but Rhys noted my lack of conviction. His brows wrinkled together as he studied me. Squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, he focused for a moment before speaking.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I shrugged, answering too quickly.

“You’re lying.” He took a step forward and searched my eyes. “Is it something with Aaron? Are you upset?”

I chose half honesty in hopes he’d let me leave. “I’m upset, but it’s not about Aaron. Don’t worry. I’m sure you want to rest before the break ends. Thanks for the flowers.” I started rushing out of the room as calmly as possible, but Rhys grabbed my wrist and gently yanked me back towards him. He continued holding my hand, reacquainting himself with the feel of my trembling fingers looped with his. “Are you upset with me? Have I done something to offend you, Ellie?”

Hearing his voice whisper my name was like a familiar caress on my cheek and I couldn’t resist putting my walls down one more time. My hand remembered that he wasn’t mine and didn’t want to be, so I jerked it out and held nothing back. “I thought you said there was no one…when I asked you, you said there wasn’t anyone special in your life.”

Stunned, he stepped back, feeling the emptiness in his hand. “There hasn’t been, Ellie.”

“Then who were you referring to on the news?”

Tears swelled in my eyes and the tension in his face melted away as he realized what was going on. He looked at me with sympathy that slowly turned into a sly smile.

“Dear girl,” he said grabbing my hand again as I watched his thumb affectionately rub the top of my knuckles. In spite of my anger, it felt so right, so at home in his palm. I enjoyed the warmth and savored my drug as long as he’d let me. When I looked up at his face, the corners of his mouth were slightly raised and he was staring at me, light shining in his glassy eyes.

He sighed and whispered, “Darling, why I was referring to you,” he smirked irresistibly. “It’s been you since the minute you waved at me in that meeting room. I wanted to confuse the media, but I thought you’d get the hint.”

I stared at him dumbfounded; positive I had misheard him. I tried processing his words slowly, but couldn’t focus with his hand in mine, and yet, I didn’t want to let it go. Pointing at myself, I asked, “I’m the someone special?”

Rhys nodded and his smile became more prominent as he watched me piece the puzzle in my mind. That’s why he wanted me to watch it. That’s why he got me flowers. That’s why he was looking at me in that way. My chest hurt and my eyes stung; I thought about all the moments we’d been together, the ones that felt different, the same ones I’d doubted. I remembered how peculiar he acted on the way to the airport.

“Wait,” my eyes shot up. “Am I the casting director you were talking about?”

He nodded, cocky pleasure flooding his features. A multitude of emotions rushed through me: confusion, doubt, hope. I felt foolish, the most embarrassed of my life, only to have elation bursting in my heart through my ribcage. It was as though I was floating away like a cloud in the sky, only to have fear sink it deep in my gut.

Rhys had been observing each thought crossing my eyes, and he grabbed my other hand to bring me out of my tempest of thoughts.

“You’ve been on my mind nonstop since you left, and then I couldn’t understand why you didn’t answer me. I’m so sorry for confusing you, but I would really love to celebrate with you after the show and then we can talk some more. Can we do that, please?”

Still in shock, I stared quietly just as the theatre’s ten-minute warning bell rang.

“Ellie, please. If you don’t say yes, I won’t finish the play. I won’t go back out there!” He laughed, but I could tell he was serious.

“As friends?” I whispered.

Rhys gave me my favorite boyish smile, the one that said I knew better. “Will you come if I say yes… would you believe me now that you know my heart’s desire?”

He was so devilishly handsome in his costume and his eyes exuded a remarkable tenderness. I knew I’d remember that moment forever. I thought of Aaron, Max’s advice, and my dream. Focusing back on Rhys, leaving my thoughts in my mind and nodded. “Okay.”