Home > The Return of Ursula - A Peaches Monroe Short Story

The Return of Ursula - A Peaches Monroe Short Story
Author: Mimi Strong

1

I’d been wed to the perfect man for a week, and everything seemed… perfect. Too perfect.

We started flying back to L.A. Sunday night. My gorgeous husband, famous actor Dalton Deangelo, had to get back to shooting the new season of One Vamp to Love early Monday morning.

Dalton’s butler and pilot, Vern, was flying the small private airplane. The two of us newlyweds were cuddled up in one very luxurious passenger seat, kissing and groping each other like a couple of teenagers at Dolphin Falls.

Dalton nuzzled my neck. “Peaches Monroe, I can’t believe you married me.”

“I can’t believe you were late for your own wedding. Some girls would be mad about getting upstaged.”

He gripped me tighter and fondled my peaches like he was shopping at a farmer’s market and checking them for ripeness. “I could never upstage you. I may be the actor in this marriage, but you’re the one with all the drama.”

Oh, no, he didn't!

I pulled away and stood up. “Excuse me? I cause all the drama?” I looked around the cabin for something cold and wet to throw on him. The press doesn't call me Super Soaker for nothing.

He quickly replied, “And I like all your drama. You make life interesting.” He patted his lap to invite me back. It was tempting, but I stood my ground.

“You’re wrong. I’m actually quite responsible.”

He gave me one of his million-dollar smirks, grinning while his green eyes moved up and down the curves of my body. “Responsible? How’s that tattoo of yours healing up?”

“I’ve had a crazy summer, but…”

I crossed my arms and looked out the plane’s tiny window. I had to look away from his dazzling green eyes, before he could hypnotize me. Dalton’s not really a two-hundred-year-old vampire—he just plays one on TV—but he does have many of his vampire character’s charms. Maybe he was born charming, but got better at it through his role. That would explain why he’s always getting me to do crazy things like trespass onto private estates, and sell my wedding photos to People magazine.

The small plane hit a patch of turbulence, and I had to grab a nearby handhold to catch my balance.

“I’ve had a crazy summer, but I’m going to behave myself now,” I said.

He quirked his eyebrow. “Whatever you do, don’t start behaving yourself now. Take your clothes off and let’s settle this like adults.” His eyes moved over my body in a way that made me tremble with anticipation.

“What? No,” I whisper-yelled, fighting hard to resist temptation. “We’re hurtling through the air on a plane the size of a soda can.” The plane dipped again. “Plus Vern’s right there, and he’ll know.”

“You’re such a cutie when you’re all riled up.” He gave me one of his character’s hypnotic looks and got serious. “Come to me. You are mine.” He patted his lap suggestively.

I crossed the aisle, got into my own chair, and pulled out a magazine to read. Maybe it was the turbulence from the flight, or maybe it was just sinking in that I’d married this guy I barely knew, but I didn’t want to play his games.

For the first time in my life, I understood why my mother gets so upset at the annoying things my father does. It’s not that the things he does are so terrible, it’s that he does them specifically to annoy her.

Dalton made a comment about the weather, and I pretended not to hear him. We flew in silence for a while, with only the thrum of the engine.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying the silent treatment,” Dalton said, chuckling. “Peaches, that’s not going to work for you. You can’t keep your mouth shut for five minutes.” He kept chuckling, pleased with himself.

“You’re the one with zero self-control, not me,” I said coolly. “Obviously.”

“No way. If anyone’s going to be causing problems in this marriage, it’s you.” He was still grinning. “Or possibly my father.”

I snorted and flipped through the pages of my magazine. His father, Jake Blake the  p**n  star, provided ten times the trouble of all my family members put together. Under my breath, I muttered, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I kept flipping through the pages, waiting for him to apologize for hurting my feelings.

But he didn’t apologize. He grabbed the paperback my father had left on the plane during a previous flight, and started reading.

I decided to prove him wrong about the silent treatment.

For the rest of the flight, I didn’t say a single word to my new husband. It wasn’t easy, though, because I kept thinking of the perfect comebacks, and it was a shame to waste them all.

2

We drove up into the Hollywood Hills just as the sun was setting. All the tradespeople had gone home with their gardening and pool maintenance vans, so the vehicles we passed were mostly convertibles that looked like they cost more than an entire house back home in Beaverdale, Washington.

My heart started to pound when we pulled up to the gate of Dalton’s house. I hadn’t been there since my visit to pick up my stuff, during our breakup. That meeting hadn’t gone well, and thinking about it made me uneasy.

Dalton reached over and patted my thigh. “Welcome home, Mrs. Deangelo.”

I bit my lower lip and didn’t say anything. The silent treatment was still in effect. However, as I looked up at the elegant house peeking through the landscaping, and then over at Dalton’s handsome face, I couldn’t remember why I’d been upset in the first place.

“Say something,” he said gently.

The gate opened, and Vern steered the car up the driveway.

Dalton hadn’t apologized yet, but since I couldn’t remember what he was supposed to apologize for, I decided to lift the silent treatment.

“Your house is amazing,” I said. “I love how cute it is on the outside. It’s a Spanish Colonial, right?”

“Our house,” he said. “Our house is a Spanish Colonial. And I know you think the inside has too much modern stuff, so I’m looking forward to seeing how you redecorate.”

I bit my lip again. “Am I dreaming?”

“We both are.” He leaned over and kissed me. My skin came alive at his heavenly touch.

I probably would have tried to get our clothes off right there in the back of the car, but Vern opened the door and cleared his throat.

Dalton pulled away, his green eyes dancing with mischief. “You know what happens next,” he said.

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