Unlikely Love: A Romance Single (19 page)

She couldn't blame André. He was a puppet, just like she was. They were both pawns in a game bigger than them, and she should never have dragged Nolan into that.

As the morning sun poured into her room, Delilah stayed curled up in a ball on top of her covers. Her eyes stung from a sleepless night of tears. After the fight, she ran out into the street to find Nolan, but he wasn't there. She banged on his door until her hands nearly bled, but there was no answer.

“What time is it?” Marcus woke up from the chair he'd been sat in all night.

At first, he'd tried talking to her, but she didn't want to talk. It wasn't his fault. He tried his best to stop André making it to the hotel, but it turned out that their cars had crossed on the way up the winding hill.

“C'mon De, you can't stay like this all day,” Marcus whispered, stretching out of the chair.

“I can,” she mumbled, her voice gritty.

“It's not healthy.”

“I don't care,” she clung onto the pillow as if it was her only friend.

The majority of her tears were for Nolan, but a couple of them were for herself. They weren't self-pity tears. They were tears for the life she had, and the life she had to go back to when they left Spain. She didn't ever want to leave
Paraíso
.

“Let's go down to the pool,” Marcus suggested.

“No.”

“We could go shopping?

“No.”

“I could go and get you some food then?”

“I said no, Marcus,” her hoarse voice screamed.

It stunned him into silence. It wasn't his fault, but she had nobody else to take her hurt out on.

She spent the morning drifting in and out of a restless sleep. By mid-afternoon, Marcus had got bored of sitting in silence, so he left her alone to wallow. After a couple of hours alone, her ears pricked up when she heard someone moving around in the room next to hers. She imagined Nolan in the room. She could almost feel how much he hated her through the walls.

As if in a trance, she slid off the bed and walked out into the hall and to Nolan's door. She rose her knuckles, but paused over the wood. Could she really sort things out? Was there anything to save?

When she was about to head back to her room to leave Nolan to get on with his life, her mind flashed back to what they'd done last time they'd been in his room. They hadn't just had sex, they'd made love, several times.

It was that thought which made her knock gently on his door. She had to fight, or at least try. She waited, butterflies flying around in her stomach as she heard footsteps click along the tiled floor to the door.

What was she going to say? How was she going to explain herself?

“Nolan, I -”

When the door opened, her voice trailed off, because it wasn't Nolan standing before her. Where she'd expected to see the hurt journalist, she saw a short woman in a gray dress, wearing a white apron.

“Oh,” she mumbled, “I'm looking for the man whose room this is. Nolan?”

The woman stared blankly at her in silence before mumbling something in Spanish and waving her hands at Delilah, telling her to let her get on with her work. She looked past the woman into Nolan's room, and it looked as clean and tidy as usual, but there was something missing.

Where was his laptop?

Where were the bottles of wine and glasses?

She pushed past the short woman to screams of protest and ragged open the drawers of the dresser.

Empty.

She repeated the same on his bedroom table.

Empty.

She tore open the balcony doors to see if his underwear was hanging out to dry.

Gone.

Desperately, she leaned over the railings, hoping to see him outside. Instead, she saw Marcus chatting to the pool boy and André sunbathing his already tanned body in a pair of tiny red trunks.

“Where is he?” she demanded of the maid.

Would he have changed rooms just so he didn't have to be next to her? That didn't seem like Nolan's style.

The maid screamed something in Spanish before grabbing Delilah's arms to drag her out of the room. She turned limp and let the stranger handle her. She screamed something else before slamming the door shut in Delilah's face.

Instead of going back to her room, she leaned against the space in between hers and Nolan's doors. Weakly, she slid down the wall and gripped chunks of her hair with her fists. She sobbed and sobbed, remembering everything her and Nolan had done. They'd crammed so much into a week. Even moving slowly, things had gone fast. Too fast, perhaps? Her heart pounded, and she knew it was pounding for him, and for what she'd lost.

It made no sense, but she was feeling so many impossible things for the journalist she'd only known for such a short space of time.

“De? What are you doing?” Marcus ran across the hall to pick her up from the ground.

“He's gone,” it hurt even more to say it out loud.

“Gone where?”

“I don't know,” those words hurt just as much.

Marcus wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. Gently, he stroked the back of her hair and as his breath tickled her ear.

“It would never have worked De,” he whispered, “you know that, right?”

She did. She knew that.

“I know.”

She knew it wouldn't work. How could it?

“Doomed from the start,” Marcus whispered.

“I know.”

She knew it was doomed.

They were too different, but somehow they made something work. They knew from the start they were opposites traveling in different directions, but it didn't make it any easier for her heart.

“It's probably for the best.”

Delilah tried to imagine going back to LA to carry on with her life. A life without Nolan? Her chest heaved and she almost threw up on Marcus' shoulder. She couldn't imagine such a life. He'd changed her in a way she thought no man could ever change her, and there was no going back from that.

“I have to try,” she pushed against Marcus' chest, freeing herself from his grip, “I can't give up.”

As she ran barefoot down the hall in the clothes she'd been wearing for two days, she could hear Marcus calling after her in protest, but she didn't listen.

“Julia! Where's Nolan gone?”

Julia wrinkled her nose, creasing her entire face. She looked amused and bitter.

“Why I tell you?” she spat, looking Delilah up from head to toe.

“I need to know,” she demanded, leaning across the desk, knocking over a pot of pens.

“Look, you make more mess in my hotel!” she cried, bending down to pick up the scattered pens.

“I don't care about your fucking pens. Tell me where he is! Is he in another room?”

“He check out early this morning,” she mumbled, standing to put her pens in her pot, “serves you right, silly woman.”

She rose both of her brows as she arranged her pens slowly, tilting her head from one side to the other, causing her huge bun of brown and gray hair to bounce along with her head.

“Checked out?” her heart dropped, “Did he say where he's gone?”

Another hotel?

Julia's eyes flicked up to Delilah and back down to the pens letting Delilah know she knew exactly where he'd gone. She pursed her thin lips, but she didn't speak.

“Tell me!”

“No,” Julia said airily, shrugging her frail shoulders, “you do not deserve to know.”

“Tell me now!”

“Why should I let you know anything?” her voice took an aggressive tone for the pop star she'd taken a disliking to from the second she'd stepped into her hotel.

“It's a matter of life or death,” Delilah sneered through gritted teeth, “because if you don't tell me, I'm going to kill you.”

Julia's eyes snapped up to Delilah and widened. She snarled her lips like a rabid dog.

“Airport,” she said deeply, “you too late.”

A wicked smile spread across her knowing face, but Delilah didn't stick around to let her soak in the satisfaction. Bare foot, she ran out into the road towards the tiny taxi shack on the corner of the street.

“Airport,” she cried as she jumped into the backseat of a cab, “and fast.”

When they pulled up outside of the airport after the longest journey of her life, she thrust some crumpled notes that she found in her pocket in the drivers hand. Jumping out of the car, her bare feet hit the hot tarmac, but she didn't have time to feel the pain. She sprinted towards the huge glass entrance of the airport, only slowing down when her feet were on the glass tiles.

She headed to the closest screens and started to look for every flight to America she could find. There were half a dozen, all going to different parts of America at different times, but there were only two going to New York. One was leaving in 15 minutes, and the other in 3 hours.

Was Nolan already sat on the plane, ready to get as far away from Delilah as possible? She knew no matter what she did, she wouldn't get past the first security check. She had no tickets, no money and no shoes. She could feel every passerby staring at her ratty hair, stained vest, impossibly short shorts and bare feet.

She knew she only had one chance, and she had to take it. She ran as fast as she could in the direction of the departure lounge for flight
NY2309
, leaving in just under 3 hours.

As she ran as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself, she scanned every face as she went. Every man wearing glasses and every man with dark hair suddenly became Nolan. Every time she thought she saw him, her heart sank.

When she reached the departure lounge, she started to scan the faces of the people sat in the seats, waiting for their check-in gate to be revealed. People read magazines and stared at their phones, with only a few taking a moment to stare at the shoeless woman. She checked every face twice, but she couldn't see him. She started to ask people if they'd seen a man with glasses and dark hair, but the New Yorkers heading back to their home looked at her with suspicion, clutched their bags tighter to their chests and shook their heads quickly.

Spinning on the spot, she knew she'd blown it. She was too late. Through the giant window she could see the planes being taxied down the runway, and she knew Nolan was on one of them. It's what she deserved.

After another last check of all the faces, she turned reluctantly on her heels, ready to head back to the entrance. She had no money and her cell was still sat on her dressing table in the hotel room. She had no way of getting back to the hotel or contacting Marcus, but she didn't care. Slowly, she started to walk back across the glass tiles, her feet aching with each step.

“Delilah?” a surprised and deep voice made her stop in her tracks.

It was a voice she would recognize anywhere. She turned to see Nolan standing in the doorway of the toilet, with a large bag slung over his shoulder. Her heart almost popped at the sight of him. She wanted to cry with relief. Before the tears could start flowing, she ran towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, but he didn't return the hug.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, “And where are your shoes?”

She let go of his neck and took a step back, looking down at her bare feet.

“I thought you'd gone. I thought I was too late,” tears collected along her waterline.

“How did you know I'd be here?” Nolan screwed up his face.

He didn't look pleased to see her like she'd hoped, but he didn't look angry either. Confusion was the look that filled his face.

“I didn't,” she shrugged, “Julia told me you came here, so -”

“So you thought you'd come here to try and find me?”

She nodded.

“With no shoes on?”

“I didn't want to waste any time.”

“You shouldn't have bothered,” he dropped his gaze to the ground.

Fresh stubble covered his jawline, letting her know he hadn't bothered to shave, and his eyes looked red and puffy like hers, likely from lack of sleep.

“Nolan, please, just let me explain,” she begged, “this whole André thing isn't what you think.”

“I think it's exactly what I think,” Nolan nodded his head, “you lied to me.”

“I didn't!” she cried, “I mean, I did, but I didn't mean to.”

“You just forgot to mention that you had a boyfriend?” Nolan whispered, glancing around at the people who were starting to stare at them, “did it just slip your mind?”

“It's not like that,” a tear ran down her cheek as she felt like she was banging her head against a brick wall, “please just let me explain.”

“Okay, explain,” he dropped his bag and folded his arms.

She glanced down at her feet, before looking up into his eyes. She told him all about what Marcus had told her about André and how their relationship wasn't real. She went into detail about how they'd met and how she didn't feel anything for him. She told him all about the arrangement the people above them had, and how she didn't do it on purpose.

“So let me get this straight. It was a fake relationship for publicity?”

“Yes!”

She felt relief that he was finally starting to understand.

“And you only found this out at the first rehearsal?”

“Yes!”

“So as far as you were concerned, when we agreed to get to know each other and spend time together, you thought you were still in a relationship with this guy?”

He silenced her. The guilt squirmed in her stomach. No matter how she tried to spin it, she couldn't fix what she'd done.

“It wasn't like that Nolan. I knew me and André weren't serious.”

“So why didn't you tell me?”

“Because it was complicated!”

“So you were in a 'it's complicated' relationship with him?”

The anger and frustration in his voice was very clear.

“It's wasn't like that!”

"You still didn't tell me after everything I told you about my ex-wife? I opened up to you Delilah!"

"I opened up to you too!"

“Did you have sex with him?”

Nolan dropped his eyes to the ground with his question. She didn't want to answer, so she nodded.

“It can't have been that complicated,” Nolan whispered, “you knew he was going to turn up eventually, and you could have just explained things to me at the beginning and I would have left you alone.”

“But I didn't want you to!”

He smiled slightly, but it wasn't a happy smile. It felt cold.

“You can't have it all Delilah,” Nolan shrugged before picking up his bag.

“I don't want it all,” she pleaded, “I just want you.

Their eyes connected, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something other than anger.

“I was just holiday fun for you. A pop star's play thing.”

“No!” her voice shouted out, echoing around the grand departure lounge.

She could feel everybody staring at them now, but she didn't look.

“I really felt things for you Delilah,” Nolan sighed, “and I wish I didn't.”

“I do too Nolan, please believe me. I'll do anything to prove it?”

“Anything?” he asked.

She nodded frantically.

“Go back to the hotel and let me leave,” he pushed past her, his shoulder banging into hers.

“Nolan!” she cried after him, the tears flowing freely.

He stopped in his tracks, and bowed his head, just as he had done after the fight. This time however, he turned to face her. His dark eyes pierced her, letting her know the hurt she'd caused.

“Find me when you're next in New York or something,” he shrugged as he bounced on his heel, “If I meant anything to you.”

He half-smiled at her, before turning to walk out of the departure lounge. She stared desperately after him, trying to think of the right thing to say to make him see how serious she was. Her mind buzzed with different arguments and pleas, but it was her heart that was shouting above the noise, drowning everything else out.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The entire departure lounge was staring at her as she ran her hands furiously through her matted hair.

“Nolan,” she cried.

He didn't stop.

“Nolan I -,” her voice trailed off.

He sped up.

“Nolan, I love you.”

She was sure it only came out as a whisper, but she heard people in the crowd gasp. With her eyes clenched, she screwed up her fists and stopped breathing. She couldn't take those words back.

She didn't want to.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the unexpected. Nolan had stopped walking and he'd turned to face her. The crowd of rushing people filled around him, but her eyes trained on him like a sniper on a target.

“I love you,” she repeated, louder this time.

Another round of gasps and '
awwws
' came from the watching crowd. A tear trickled down her cheek and her heart ached. She'd never said those words to a man before, because she'd never meant it.

The ache in her heart told her that she meant it.

“Give her a chance!” a woman's voice called from the crowd.

“Yeah, give her a chance dude! She's hot,” a man's voice this time.

Through the noise and the people, they stared deeply into each other's eyes as if they were the only people in the room. It wasn't until she was standing in front of him that she'd realized she'd walked towards him.

“I love you,” she repeated, “I really love you.”

Nolan pursed his lips and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. The man slid his bag from his shoulder to the ground. She could see in his face that he was battling his emotions.

“Kiss her!” a woman called.

“Yeah, kiss her!” another called.

“Nolan?” Delilah's voice cracked, “Say something?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed them, and wrinkled up the space between his eyes, before taking off his glasses. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he let out a deep and long sigh. The entire time, Delilah held her breath, waiting for a response to her grand gesture.

“Say anything,” she mumbled.

“Delilah -” he started, but he stopped himself.

“Nolan?”

"You lied to me," he sighed, "how do I know you're not lying to me now?"

She picked up his hand and placed it against her chest. Her heart pounded against his palm.

"Does that feel like a lie?"

“Delilah,” he sighed and relaxed his face, slotting his glasses back behind his ears, “I love you too.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was loud enough for the watching crowd to hear. One lady stood up and started to clap and others sighed.

Delilah on the other hand, started to breathe again. She stared deeply into Nolan's eyes, but he still looked deeply hurt.

“Say it again,” she urged.

“I love you,” he said, sounding more convinced this time, “I love you. I actually love you.”

Each time he said it, he sounded more and more confident with what he was saying, and each time she believed what she was hearing. Her stomach knotted and her heart danced as warm fuzz ran over her body. She could almost forget that she was standing in the middle of a bustling airport with matted hair, dirty clothes and no shoes.

“Say it again,” she whispered.

“Delilah Smith. I love you,” this time, he smiled.

The dimples appeared in his cheeks, melting away the last shred of doubt that Delilah had. It had only been a week, but it was long enough for her heart to spot the real deal.

“Kiss!” a voice cried from the crowd.

Delilah smiled and bit her lip.

Nolan looked hesitant as he wrapped his fingers around her cheek. She stared deeply into his eyes, letting him know that she meant every word she'd said.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered softly.

The hand on her cheek tightened, drawing her into his lips. He brushed softly against her lips, silencing her apology. His tongue brushed delicately against hers as his other hand cupped the bottom of her back. It was a moment that Delilah wanted to last forever. It wasn't until he pulled away that she heard more than one person clapping at their public declaration of love. She glanced into the crowd and several people had phones in their hands, recording everything that was happening.

She forgot that she was still Delilah White.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” Delilah whispered, setting her hands gently on Nolan's chest, “I just didn't want to hurt you. I shoved my head in the sand because I didn't want to ruin the way you made me feel. After you told me about your ex-wife, I knew I should have said something, but the longer I left it, the stronger I felt about you and the harder it was.”

He silenced her with another kiss, which was even more passionate than the last.

“Today is the start,” he pulled away from the kiss and whispered into her ear.

“I have no idea how this is going to work,” she laughed.

“We'll make it work,” he whispered.

And Delilah believed him.

Hand in hand, they left the watching crowd and headed back the way Delilah had ran. She glanced over her shoulder to look at the departure lounge and people were already getting back to their magazines and phones.