You Will Be Alright Read online

  You Will Be Alright

  Book Eighteen of The Forever and Ever Series

  E. L. Todd

  Chapter One

  Silke

  I was working on a sculpture at my kitchen table while jazz music played in the background. This is what I spent most of my time doing, shutting out the world and concentrating on a piece of art that had no bearing on reality.

  And I thought of Arsen.

  Often.

  The kisses we shared just made me hate him more. I hated the fact I loved him still, after all this time, and I hated the fact he made me so weak. I was so pathetic against his resistance that I had to ask him not to kiss me unless I asked him to.

  That’s how pathetic I was.

  I felt guilty about Pike. We’d only been broken up for a month when I kissed my ex, the guy who never treated me right. Pike never did a single thing wrong, but yet, he was getting the short stick.

  That wasn’t fair.

  But life wasn’t fair. If it were, Arsen never would have gone to prison and left me. We would have moved to New York together and found our way through the tough times. Arsen would have change on his own, becoming what he is now, just by a different route.

  We might even be married. Maybe we’d have a kid. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t like to think about it too deeply. When I did, it made me miss him. And unfortunately, it made me want him more.

  I wanted to continue those kisses and see where they went. I wanted to give myself to him and trust him implicitly and see how it developed. I wanted to be brave like I once was, giving him a chance even though I was aware of the fact it might not go anywhere.

  Where was the feisty girl? The one who looked the devil in the eye and spat on him? Now I was locked in my apartment sculpting, wanting to disappear from the man I loved and who loved me.

  Why did he have to hurt me so much? Things would be so much easier if he hadn’t.

  A knock on my door shattered my thoughts. My hands were covered in wet clay and I couldn’t touch anything. I needed to wash my hands but that would take forever. “Who is it?”

  “Arsen.” His deep voice came through the door. It was quiet but possessed the command of an army.

  Why did his voice have to affect me like that? Why did he have this hold over me? “Come in.”

  He opened the door and stepped inside.

  I stayed in my seat and returned to my work. It was a good excuse not to look at him.

  He approached the table with his hands in the pockets of his suit. It irritated me that he looked so good in anything he wore, and when he wore a designer suit tailored for him specifically, he was practically irresistible.

  I continued to work with the clay, knowing it wouldn’t stay warm unless I kept moving.

  He sat in the seat next to me and watched me quietly. He was absolutely still, like he was trying to blend into the shadows.

  I kept my eyes focused on my task, not having anything to say to him. It was difficult to look at him because he was so gorgeous. How did he get hotter? How did he put on so much muscle? How did he become so thoughtful, intelligent, and sophisticated?

  Arsen was quiet for so long that I became comfortable around him. He seemed engaged in my piece, watching my hands glide and work into the material. He rested his ankle on the opposite knee and rested his hands in his lap.

  I didn’t make conversation.

  Neither did he.

  Then I finished, letting it sit still. It would need to dry in the oven, and then it would be completed.

  Arsen seemed to understand what I was going to do next because he stood up and turned on the faucet.

  It annoyed me he was so thoughtful, yet again. I approached the sink, and Arsen squirted soap in my hand. He stayed there, close to me while I washed my hands and removed the clay from under my fingernails. When I was finished, I didn’t look at him and put the sculpture in the oven.

  He put his hands in his pockets and watched me.

  When I had nothing else to do, I was forced to look at him. “How can I help you?”

  He stared at me like I was the sculpture I just made. “What inspired that piece?”

  The question caught me off guard, but at least it was a safe topic. “Nothing specific.”

  “Do ideas come to you in your dreams?”

  “Subconsciously, maybe.”

  He took a seat at the table again. “How long do you bake it for?”

  “An hour,” I answered.

  “is it safe to cook your food in the same oven?”

  “There are no toxins in the clay.” I stood there awkwardly before I forced myself to sit down. I looked odd just standing there, trying to stay far away from him. I didn’t know why he was there, but I doubted it was for a platonic reason. I was suddenly aware of the fact we were alone together. My bed was just down the hall and no one would disrupt us. I shook the idea away then tried to change the course of my thoughts.

  “I don’t sculpt or paint, but I love to read.” Arsen looked at me as he spoke, his blue eyes brighter than ever before. He kept his hands in his lap and relaxed his shoulders.

  “When did that start?”

  “When Ryan taught me how to read.”

  He didn’t know how? He was illiterate? “I didn’t know you weren’t able to…”

  “I could break down minor sentences and read at a fifth-grade level, but my vocabulary was poor and my comprehension skills were pathetic. After he taught me to read, he gave me a list of books. After I finished one, we would discuss it in detail. Then we would move onto the next.”

  “What books did you read?”

  “The classics,” he answered. “Of Mice and Men, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Scarlet Letter, Frankenstein, and Heart of Darkness.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  He examined my living room, looking at the pictures in their frames. Then he turned back to me. “It was impressive that your father was able to teach someone who lacked any skills.”

  “Don’t give him all the credit,” I said. “You’re the one who succeeded.”

  He paused for a long time. “It’s impossible for me to ever give him enough credit.”

  Arsen was a much different man than I once knew. His mannerisms were different, and he held himself like a commander or a leader. He considered his words carefully before he spoke, and he was full of humility despite everything he had accomplished. “Do you have any favorites?”

  “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.” He gave me a slight smile.

  “My dad had you read Harry Potter?” I asked in surprise.

  “No. But I became so advanced that I read more books than he could supply me with. Since I was staying in your room, I started to read your old books. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t.”

  “It’s a good story. What do you do in the face of adversity when there is no hope?” He stared at the table for a moment then looked back to me. “Turn to your friends for help.”

  “I haven’t read that series in so long…but I used to love it.”

  “When Abby is a little older, I plan on reading it to her. I think the idea of dementors and dark wizards may be too frightening for her at this age.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed.

  “What are your favorites, Silke?”

  I tried to think back to my childhood. I read more books than I could count. Reading was a favorite hobby of mine. “All of them.”

  He nodded in response. “Good answer. I think reading is important because it allows you to live several lives through different perspectives. It can give you insight to someone’s emotions in the real world based on his or her experiences. I read to Abby before she goes to bed, but once she’s old enough, I’ll be giving her a lot o
f literature to go through.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be very bright.”

  “What did you think of Fifty Shades of Grey?”

  I gave him a look full of surprise. “You read that too?”

  “Janice had them lying around and I had nothing else to read. I gave it a shot.”

  “And what did you think?”

  He pondered the question for a moment. “I think it doesn’t adequately portray a woman’s desires and what a woman really wants.”

  “Maybe you didn’t understand it…”

  “No, I think I did. It just seems like this guy gets off to hurting women. I don’t understand why any woman would want to be the recipient of that. It’s abusive and disrespectful to all women. I don’t need to hit a woman to find my release. I’d rather love her instead.”

  His gaze was too strong so I turned away.

  “But I think women love the story because of how controlling and confident the guy is. They want a man to tell them what to do and to take charge, to be an alpha, so to speak. But in actuality, real men want a woman who doesn’t take bullshit. They want an equal partner. At least I do.”

  I stared at my hands in my lap, not wanting to look at him. If he spanked me when we were in bed, I wouldn’t object. When I realized what I just thought, I shook my head in disapproval.

  “Did I say something to make you uncomfortable?”

  “No.” I thought something to make me uncomfortable.

  Arsen fell silent but he didn’t seem uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. It didn’t seem like anything ever bothered him. “How was your day?”

  “Well. Yours?”

  “The shop is busy and never seems to slow down. I just hired another mechanic.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah, no complaints,” he said.

  “How’s Abby?”

  “She’s good,” he said. “I get her for the weekend.”

  “What are you planning on doing?”

  “Well, Abby has never been to the beach so I’m going to take her.”

  “She’ll have a great time.” The idea of Abby playing in the sand made me smile.

  “We would love it if you joined us.”

  The idea of spending the day with Arsen at the beach didn’t sound platonic, even if his daughter was there. He’d probably take off his shirt, and if I saw that, I’d have a hard time not staring. “I’m sure you two will have more fun if you go alone.”

  “Abby asked if you could come.”

  That wasn’t fair. He was using his daughter against me, tempting me with her. “Even so…”

  “She’ll be disappointed…”

  Damn, he was good. “Okay…”

  He smiled. “We’re having a picnic on the sand. It’ll be fun.”

  “I’m sure it will be.”

  He seemed to be in a better mood now that he secured Saturday with me. “If you haven’t eaten, I’d like to share a meal with you.”

  “I have my sculpture I need to attend to.” Thankfully.

  “Oh, I see.” He nodded in understanding. “How about I order a pizza then? You can keep an eye on your friend.”

  So he would be staying here? With me? In my apartment? It made me want to panic just thinking about it. We’d somehow end up in my bed and I wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening.

  Arsen seemed to read my mind. “I don’t break my promises, Silke.”

  I knew what promise he was referring to, that he wouldn’t kiss me unless I asked. As long as I could restrain myself from jumping on him and making the first move, I was safe. “Okay.”

  He pulled out his phone. “Pineapple and olives?”

  He remembered. “Yeah.”

  He made the order on his phone then stuffed it into his pocket. “Do you mind if I take off my jacket?”

  “No.” Yes. The less clothes he wore, the more I could see.

  Of course, when he took off his jacket, the lines of his pectoral muscles were noticeable. He was packed with tight muscle.

  Why did he have to be so hot? I had clay smudged on my face and my hair was pulled back. I looked like a train wreck in comparison.

  “Do you think you can show me how to sculpt?” he asked.

  “You want to learn?” I asked in surprise.

  “I always want to learn new things. And I want to learn something you love.”

  He was making it so difficult for me to keep him at bay. “Okay.” I got the clay ready while he unbuttoned his shirt.

  Oh my god. Was he going to take off his shirt?

  He did, but there was a black wife beater underneath. The muscles of his arms rippled and his shoulders were broader than they once were. His chest was expansive, and the shirt hugged his body, showing the definition of his abs.

  I started to sweat.

  If Arsen knew how he was affecting me, he had the grace to act like he didn’t. He scooted closer to me then waited for my demonstration. I taught him the basics and the technique. Then he placed his hands around the spinning clay while pressing the pedal on the floor. When he didn’t do it right, my hand automatically cupped his to guide him. As soon as we touched, I felt it. It was the same chemistry as when we kissed. Like two different potentials in energy, when we were too close, we made a spark. I quickly pulled my hands away and let him experiment on his own.

  His first sculpture wasn’t decipherable but no one did well on their first try. “Not quite as good as you, I’m afraid,” he said with a light chuckle.

  “My first one was worse.”

  “Thanks for attempting to make me feel better.” He headed to the sink and washed his hands. Then I did the same. “Would you be willing to teach Abby?”

  “Of course,” I said without hesitation.

  “That would be nice,” he said. “She would love it.”

  Every time he spoke of his daughter, there was such pride in his voice. It was clear she was his entire world. And that was wonderful to see.

  When he was clean, he pulled his shirt back on.

  Thank god. It was too damn distracting.

  The knock on the door announced the pizza. Arsen answered it and paid for it. “Smells good…”

  “I’m starving,” I blurted.

  We sat at the kitchen table and ate it right out of the box like we used to. The action immediately reminded me of our old relationship. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

  “All that’s missing is being in bed.” He acknowledged the white elephant in the room.

  I looked down and picked at the pineapple on my pizza.

  Arsen had his shirt on but it was unbuttoned. Now I wish it was off again.

  No, don’t go there.

  Arsen cleaned up our mess then moved to the living room. I had picture frames everywhere and he looked at each one. There were none of Arsen, but there was one of Pike. I hadn’t taken it down because I didn’t have the heart to. It was when we went to the Yankee game together. When Arsen stopped and stared for a long time, I knew he found it.

  I didn’t acknowledge it. I sat on the couch and held my silence.

  “This is Pike?” he asked quietly.

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded then sat beside me.

  I was suddenly aware of how close we were to each other.

  “How did you guys meet?”

  I knew Arsen and I were just friends, but it was still an odd question. “Do you really want to know?”

  He looked away. “I don’t blame you for seeing someone else, Silke. I was gone for a long time, and after the way I treated you, I didn’t deserve a torch in your heart. Since you’re my best friend, I’d still like to know everything about you—even if it isn’t pleasing.”

  “If you were with someone, I wouldn’t want to know about it,” I blurted.

  “Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t.”

  I stared at him and remained quiet.

  “You don’t have to share anything with me,” Arsen said. “I just thought since w
e were friends, we would talk about it.”

  I guess Arsen had no end game in asking this question. I was no longer with Pike so it didn’t seem like it mattered. “I was at an art show with my Dad—”

  “Whoa, hold on. Your dad was there?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I just…” It was the first time he struggled. “Never mind. Continue.”

  “Dad had disappeared because he was going to buy a painting for me, which I didn’t know at the time. I stood in front of this beautiful image of a red rose. There was so much detail, and even though I’d seen a rose a hundred times, I couldn’t stop staring at it. I’d somehow fallen in love with just a picture.”

  He listened to every word but kept his own thoughts hidden.

  “Then Pike emerged and asked me a few questions. He was very forward and I wasn’t used to that. I’m not used to being hit on in general. Then he asked me to breakfast the next morning, saying we could watch the sun rise. I felt uneasy, so I turned him down.”

  Arsen leaned back on the couch and listened.

  “When my dad returned, he was purchasing the painting I’d had my eye on the entire time. I would have bought it myself but it was too expensive. That’s when Pike handed it to me and said it was a gift—because he painted it.” I paused for a moment. “And then I couldn’t say no.”

  He nodded slowly. “That’s a lovely story.”

  Lovely? He thought it was lovely of all things? He was interested in a story of how I met someone else? “That’s the last thing I expected you to say.”

  He smirked and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t mean it in a way you think.”

  “Then how do you mean it?”

  “That’s a story grandparents tell their grandchildren of how they met and fell in love. That’s not something you hear everyday. That’s an unnatural and unworldly connection. That’s…unbelievable.”

  I still didn’t understand where he was going with this.

  “Here is the beauty of it,” he said quietly. “Even after all of that, in addition to fact that we’d hadn’t spoken in a year, you still loved me. You still picked me.”

  “I didn’t pick you,” I argued.

  “But you didn’t fall in love with him because you already fell in love with me. Now, what’s stronger than that?” He looked me right in the face. “Now that is a story grandparents tell their grandchildren.”