Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(80)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Sally’s head shot back and she shouted, “Daddy!”

Elle pulled at his arm saying, “I should –”

“Don’t move,” Prentice ordered, reflexively placing a protective hand to the top of Sally’s head at the same time halting Elle’s retreat by locking his arm around her.

She looked at him. “Pren –”

“Don’t move.”

“But –”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Ignore them.”

“But –”

He dipped his head and rested his forehead against hers.

“Elle, baby, I said ignore them.”

“But they’re taking pictures of Sally,” she whispered.

“Ignore them.”

“And they’re taking pictures of you.”

Christ, she could be stubborn.

His hand went from her shoulder to the back of her neck, he gave her a squeeze there and he asked a question to which he did not expect a response, “Elle, what did say?”

Her eyes searched his. Then they closed.

Then she nodded her head and opened her eyes and his Elle was gone.

Prentice saw it immediately and he wanted to walk across the pitch and do bodily damage.

He didn’t.

Even though she’d retreated, still she agreed quietly, “Okay.”

And she stood by his side in the curve of his arm, when she wasn’t off doing something for Sally or chatting with one of the other Mums, the rest of the match.

But she did most of this with her fists clenched.

When they went back to the house, she got the kids sorted and excused herself to her rooms, promising Sally she’d be back so they could make dinner together.

Prentice gave her some time then he followed her.

He stopped halfway up the second flight of steps.

The door to her rooms was open, the scent of lavender drifting out, Elle had changed into yoga gear and was in a yoga pose. She fluidly moved out of the position she was in to another one and, with fascination, he watched her hold it, every inch of her body in her control, legs firm and strong, arms steady. Then she leaned forward and went into a pose where she was on one straight leg, her body balanced perfectly, her stance firm, she made it look effortless and graceful.

It was serene.

It was controlled.

It was beautiful.

It was extraordinary.

Although all of this was delightful, what it wasn’t was Elle.

Silently, he turned and walked down the stairs.

She rejoined them in time to work with Jason on his guitar and for Sally to help her with dinner. She ate with them. She tidied the kitchen.

Then she disappeared.

Prentice gave her some time then he followed.

His feet in socks making no noise on the stairs, he stopped yet again halfway up the second flight.

He saw Elle through the door. She was curled into the chair, knees bent, feet up on its edge. The lavender scent was again permeating the air. Her head was bowed and he could see she was writing in one of her journals.

Peaceful.

Quiet.

Withdrawn.

Not Elle.

Again, he silently made his way back down the stairs.

She rejoined them again to get Sally to bed, walking her up the stairs, hand in hand. She stayed upstairs to read Sally a bedtime story.

“Do me a favor, mate, go to your room,” Prentice said to Jason.

“But Dad –”

Prentice looked at his son. Jason knew that look. He grabbed his guitar, said his goodnight and went up to his room.

Prentice watched his son until he was out of sight.

Then he made a decision.

It might be too soon but he didn’t give a f**k.

They’d lost twenty years, he’d lost a wife, his children had lost their mother and, as far as he could tell, Elle had lived a life where she had very little that was meaningful to lose.

Life was too short.

There was no time to waste.

He went to the kitchen, found a bottle of red wine Elle had bought and put it on the counter with the corkscrew. He was taking down two glasses when she walked down the stairs.

“Where’s Jason?” she asked, her eyes on the wine, her expression guarded.

“Early night,” Prentice answered, grabbing the glasses by their stem and upending them then wrapping his hand around the neck of the bottle and nabbing the corkscrew.

“Prentice,” Elle said as he walked up to her, “we need to talk.”

Good, she didn’t intend to delay in telling him what was on her mind.

That worked for him because neither did he.

Obviously, Prentice had changed his mind about talking that day; it was just that he now also had something to say.

“Aye,” he agreed.

“I…” she started but stopped when he threw an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the stairs. She began again when they hit the stairs, “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to talk,” he said, resolutely moving her up the stairs.

“But where?”

“The best place in the house.”

She fell silent.

At the top of the stairs, he directed her toward his rooms.

Her body jolted.

“Pren –”

His arm left her shoulders and the hand with the bottle went to the small of her back. He pushed her into his sitting room.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered when he closed the door behind them.

“Why no’?” he asked, guiding her through the small sitting room into the bedroom, putting everything on his bureau and opening a drawer.

“Because…” she began then paused then went on, “Can we talk in your study?”

He walked up to her with a pair of his thick socks.

“No,” he held out the socks, gentled his voice and ordered “Put those on, baby.”

She stared at the socks but didn’t move. He lifted her hand, set the socks in her palm and walked away.

“Socks?” she asked his back as he opened another drawer.

“Put them on,” he ordered.

“But –”

He turned to look at her.

She couldn’t even see his face but she still bent and put on the socks.

When she straightened, he was close and before she could say a word, he pulled one of his jumpers over her head.

“Um…” she muttered as she shoved her arms through and he tugged the tendrils of hair at her neck free of the collar, “I’m not getting it.”

He looked at her shadowed form in his sweater. She swam in it.

Definitely better than the posh cardie.