“But whatever it was, it’s over. I like him. He’s rich, and titled! And he’s not old or ugly.” She closes her eyes, “Do you know how rare that is? You can’t have him.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lean away from her and pull my arm out of her grasp.

  She closes the space between us again. “Just stay away. He’s mine.”

  “Then, what are you so worried about?” I ask her, my eyebrow raised.

  I take her in. Her face is flushed and her nostrils are flared. I’m sure I look the same way. I’d really like to curse her out. To tell her to keep her fucking hands off me. And to tell her that he’ll never be hers. But, I know how she must feel. I don’t blame her. He’s worth fighting for. She’s just guarding her treasure. I wish I’d been as wise as her when I had him.

  Her face falls, but she recovers and is leaning toward me when Harry calls my name from right outside the door.

  We both take a step away from each other. And then I walk toward the entrance.

  I step outside and Harry’s standing by the van. He watches me as I approach. I give him a tentative smile but as soon as I do, he looks away. My stomach sinks a little. It’s okay. This is what I should expect.

  "I unloaded the rest around the back, I don't want to clutter up the inside of the store." He says, pointing at the now empty van. I hear the crunch of leaves behind me and I know Camille’s come outside, too.

  Time to go.

  "Okay, thanks." I glance at the watch on my wrist and in the most cheerful voice I can muster say, “I've got to get back to the house. It's almost time for breakfast."

  "Oh good, Harry and I were just headed there for breakfast. We woke up with a huge appetite this morning, didn't we darling." Camille comes to stand by him.

  I have to stifle my groan. It's physical blow to hear her say that. Did he go to her last night? Could I blame him?

  The haze of fear and self-loathing that’s clouded my judgment for so long has, in the last few months, become less opaque. Now, when it’s too late, I can see what I've thrown away.

  I swallow the pain in my throat and smile at them.

  "That's nice. Well, I'll see you both there. " Like hell I'd be sitting across from them to break bread. I’d rather eat arsenic.

  23

  Harry

  "You're scowling," my mother whispers in my ear.

  "I'm not," I whisper back, but I glance around to see if anyone is watching.

  "Yes, you are. Camille looks scared," she scolds me. She pinches my arm and then sits up straight, again.

  I wince at her pinch and look across the table at Camille. She's watching me, her face is a mask of worry. I'm such an asshole. I'd totally forgotten she was here. She came all this way for the week and I’ve barely said a word to her tonight. I've been watching the door. I give her a lame smile and her smile brightens right away and she waggles her fingers at me in a wave. I return the idiotic gesture and pretend that I'm making a casual perusal of the crowd.

  The rehearsal dinner is almost over and she hasn't shown up. Her family's here. I met them earlier, her two sisters. She and one of her sisters could be twins if Lilly had red hair. The other one is a tiny, curvy beauty. Her parents are a striking couple. Not just because their mother is black and their father is a freckled ginger who looks like he hasn't ever spent a minute in the sun. But, because they carry themselves with such an easy dignity. I know from that night in the lift that he spent more than a decade on the lam. But, they look like they've never spent a moment apart. Every time I've glanced at their table, they've been touching. Her sisters are both there with men who look as moon eyed over them as their father is over their mother. Cara told us that younger one, her best friend, is getting married this summer.

  I look down the table to where my brother and his little blond pixie of a fiancé are sitting. My father's speaking, droning on as he recites our family history. He's been practicing this all day. He said he was determined to do it without notecards. It's not lost on me that three months ago, I should have been getting married. That this hall had been booked for my rehearsal dinner. And that he started writing the speech to toast Zara and me.

  He's moving onto the modern history of the family and he looks as bored as most of the guests. People are on their phones, even my mother's given up and is playing Sudoku on her phone.

  The scrape of the chairs and the loud shriek of a child’s laughter makes everyone look up. But that's not what draws my attention. It's the way the room’s energy becomes more frenetic and weighty.

  She's there.

  My eyes follow the little boy who's laughing as he runs to greet her. My eyes lift as she raises him up to eye level. And I gaze at her as she smiles up at him and I relish seeing her look so happy. Even if it’s not directed at me.

  Just like the very first time I saw her, I’m riveted. Her hair's longer and darker now than it was when I met her. As always, she's covered from head to toe. Her turtleneck kisses the bottom her chin, the sleeves drape over her fingers. Her skintight leather pants hug her endlessly long legs and cup that ass...

  "You're staring at her like she's a bag of silver and you're Judas Iscariot, Harry." My mother whispers and pinches me again.

  "Ouch, Mum," I look at her and see an uncharacteristic tightness around her mouth. I'm instantly contrite.

  "I'm sorry. I'll pay attention," I apologize and force my eyes to look back at my father.

  "It's okay. She's beautiful. I understand. But, you've got a date. And so does she. Try to remember that," her voice is stern.

  My eyes fly back to where Lilly was standing. She's not there, but walking toward the family's table. And there's a man walking with her. I was so absorbed in her when she walked in that I hadn't noticed him.

  "Harry, what in the world is wrong with you? Everyone can see you," my mother whispers again.

  I immediately look at Camille and she's watching me again, that anxious look on her face as her eyes dart to Lilly. I feel like the world's worst person. I won't look at Lilly one more time tonight.

  24

  Lilly

  My head is pounding.

  Harry has had his eyes on me all night. It’s taken a massive amount of effort to keep my face passive and my eyes from going where they desperately want to.

  I want to get the fuck out of here. I start to lean over to tell Milly that I’m not feeling well, when the clinking of silverware on crystal champagne glasses draws my attention to the front of the room.

  Harry’s standing up to give his Best Man’s speech. My desire to leave is extinguished.

  It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him since I got here. It’s either been too awkward or painful. But everyone else is looking at him, too. So, there’s no one to catch me staring.

  I drink him in. He looks amazing. Not miserable, like me.

  His hair is cut short again, but just on the sides. His gorgeous dark brown waves spill onto his forehead. His heavy brow and refined features along with his aristocratic nose appeared in contradiction to his full lips.

  “He’s rather stylish for a country Lord,” Aiden whispers.

  I don’t respond, but internally, I completely agree. He’s wearing a gorgeous navy-blue suit; his white shirt is open just the collar and he looks effortlessly stylish.

  When he starts to speak, he sounds happy. The way he had for most our time in Ghana. He hasn’t sounded like that once since I’ve been here. I'd close my eyes and let myself get lost in the cadence and texture of his voice.

  Milly, digs her elbow into my side and my eyes fly open.

  “Wake up. Bad enough you were late," she whispers, without taking her eyes off Harry.

  I didn’t bother to respond. Better she believed that, than know the truth.

  I let me eyes sweep the room. It was a huge, wood paneled room that looked more like a place where a Masonic Lodge would meet than where you'd hold a rehearsal dinner. They'd draped tulle and crinoline from every available rafter, covered the chairs in satin, laden the tables with flowers and candles in an effort to hide the room's utilitarian and drab feel. I thought they'd only barely succeeded.

  My eyes came to rest on Cara and Louis. They’re a gorgeous couple. He is huge, dark blond, all tattoos and bulging muscles, even though his suit jacket hides them well tonight. She’s as she'd always been, tiny and delicate with hair that was so blonde it would glow in the dark if the lights were turned off. They both have their eyes trained on Harry as he speaks to them.

  “I’m not clever enough to make a speech without looking at my notes,” he says.

  He makes a big show of pulling a piece of pager from his breast pocket.

  It draws scattered laugher from the crowd. Then he looks at his brother and starts reading.

  "I've not had the pleasure of being married. But as your big brother, I'm going to continue our life long tradition of me knowing best and telling you what to do."

  He clears his throat and looks down at the sheet of paper. "First, set the ground rules and establish who’s the boss: Then do everything she says."

  The audience bursts into laughter. Louis rolls his eyes good naturedly and wraps one of his beefy arms around Cara's neck.

  "Number two, you have to remember that married life can be compared to football. So be fully ready to spend the week training to make sure you’ll score every weekend. Mum has assured me that playing away from home can result in a serious groin injury and is definitely the quickest way to get on the transfer list. So, don't do it."

  The audience groaned at his horrible analogy and I felt an ease of tension in my shoulders as I watch him relax and smile. He shrugs at them, shoots his brother a rakish smile, and winks at Cara. I love seeing him enjoying himself. I can’t look away.

  "Number three, don’t let life stop you from connecting with each other. Mind, body and soul. Set time aside to pay attention to all three. Especially the body.”

  His mother swats his backside and he yelps, then he looks down at her and winks, completely unrepentant. She reached up to swat him again, but he moves out of reach and the crowd laughs.

  "And last but not least, little brother," his voice had turned serious and Louis looked away from a grinning Cara as he regarded his brother, "Don't forget to tell her you love her, and always, without exception, tell her the truth. It's the only way she'll know she can always rely on you."

  Even though he isn’t looking at me, I know that the message was also meant for me. Suddenly the room felt uncomfortably small. It gives me the same sensation I get when my shoes are too tight. I look away from Harry, and my eyes land on Freya who was watching me with a furious anger that feels like a slap.

  My eyes fall to my lap and there they stay until, I hear The Earl say, “Thank you for joining us, we’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon. Goodnight.”

  "You're sweating, Lil," Aiden teases. He swipes a finger across my forehead.

  I swat his hand away and snap at him, “Shut up. You were late." We're making our way out of the crowded hall. The blazing lights, the heat of hundreds of bodies, and the still blaring music are rivaled only by the din of voices all talking at once.

  "I missed almost the entire event, including dinner and now I'm starving," I grumble as I shove the doors open. As soon as we step outside, the cold and rich air, bright with the smell of evergreens and heavy with the promise of snow rushes deliciously into my tight chest.

  "You're lucky I'm here. Joanna is not happy. Not at all. I'll probably have to ask her to marry me when I get back to make up for going away this weekend.” He gripes. “And, it's not my fault my Uber had no clue how to find the house. It's not even on the fucking map. We're lucky he was willing to wait and bring us here. How the fuck are we going to get back?" His entire tirade comes out in one breath. Aiden blows on his hands to keep them warm as he glances around us disdainfully.

  "We'll get a ride with my family." I ignore the rest of his statement entirely. I look back over my shoulder and see my mother and sisters in a huddle with Cara. I feel a twinge of guilt and think about heading back to talk to her. But I can't. He's there and my skin can still feel the sting of the daggers he glared at me all night.

  * * *

  "I'm freezing Lilly, let's go back inside and wait, " Aiden's whines.

  "You go ahead. I'm fine. It's too hot in there." I couldn't go back in there if my life depended on it.

  "The only thing hot in there was Mr. Tall Dark and Pissed Off and the way he was looking at you."

  "Oh please. You always think someone's looking at me." I dismiss him with a wave of my hand, but a ball of discomfort forms in my chest.

  "Lillian, I know you’re completely oblivious to your womanly charms. I don’t know why you go out of your way to hide them. But, it doesn’t change the fact that everywhere you go, people look at you. I'm a man. I know how other men look at women they want. Now whether it's to fuck you or kill you, that I couldn't say. But he wants you."

  "You're a lunatic and you're seeing things." I roll my eyes, but Aiden’s words set me on edge. I don’t know what Harry wants either. He’s with her. I’m pretending to be with Aiden. This is a mess.

  "Oh am I? Well, that would explain why I saw you looking like you wanted to crawl in his lap while he made that speech."

  "It was a good speech; I was just enjoying it. I don't even know him."

  "You’re tugging your collar. You always fidget when you’re lying,” Aiden deadpans.

  I drop my fingers from their nervous fiddling at the edge of my turtle neck.

  “So, spill," he demands.

  But I don't say anything. I can’t deny any of it. I also I can’t admit it either. I’m ashamed of the way I’ve behaved. And I’m wrecked that somehow the universe found a way for our paths to cross again and I’m still fucking it up.

  "Hey, Lil I was just joking." Aiden's arm goes around my shoulder. His voice has gone from ribald to soothing. "Listen, let's go sit inside. It's freezing and your coat isn't really thick enough." He turns me to go back inside and I let him guide me no longer able to muster the will to resist. I don’t know how I'll survive the rest of this week. He’s leaving early in the morning the day after the wedding. I wish he could stay. I’m in desperate need of a friend.

  We step back inside and the sounds of merry making make me stop dead. Aiden stumbles when he tries to take another step anchored to my unmoving body.

  I shake my head. "Aiden, I can't. I just can't. Please, let's just sit out here."

  "Lilly. What's going on? How do you know him? Did he do something to you?" Aiden turns me to face him, putting both hands on my shoulders.

  "No,” I say vehemently. My eyes are wide with protest, my voice is rough and low. “It's nothing. I'm just tired," I croak out, trying to find my voice. If he only knew that I am the villain in this story. The only crime Harry ever committed was to ask me to be honest with him and to make me feel good.

  "Lilly, look at me." He takes my chin into his hand and forces me to look up at him.

  I gaze into the sky-blue eyes of the only real friend I have in the entire world and Iwant to tell him everything.

  "Aiden, I have to tell you--"

  "Sorry to interrupt this tender moment. Your mother said you two need a ride back to the house." The voice that sets everything inside me alight, booms at us from just inside the door. My heart skips a beat. I drop my hand from Aiden's shoulder and step away from him at the same time. Aiden’s eyes narrow and his head swings in Harry's direction.

  "Give us a second," he says quietly to Harry.

  I put a steadying hand on his shoulder and his eyes come to me. I shake my head gently, silently asking him to please stand down. Fine, he mouths. I turn to face Harry and steel myself against the breathlessness and racing heart I get every time I lay eyes on him.

  He's standing there, coat is slung casually over his shoulders, and holding onto his arm is Camille. The sweet smile on her face is accompanied by a malicious stare.

  If what Aiden said about Harry staring is true, then maybe she saw it too.

  I turn to face the person I truly care about. I finally want to end this farce, stop pretending that we don't know each other. I want to beg him to forgive me. And to promise to tell him everything.

  But when I meet his eyes, my words wither like grape leaves under a punishingly hot sun. Harry's not bothering to hide his contempt with a smile. He's glowering at us,his scorn unmitigated as he looks at Aiden's hand still resting on my shoulder.

  "Do you need a ride or not?" he sounds exasperated, as if he's asked us fifty times already. I bristle and shake Aiden's hands off my shoulders.

  "Yes, we need a ride. But, I'll ask someone inside." When I start to walk past him, he touches my arm.

  “I said I’d take you,” he bites out.

  "Excuse me,” I say icily. My eyes fixed on his hand on my arm.

  He drops it right away as if he didn't realize he'd grabbed me.

  "I'm sorry," he says shortly. He eyes Aiden before glancing at Camille.

  I feel a sharp sting of guilt. I take a breath and apologize.

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” I look up at his face, knowing that his eyes will tell me something. They're always expressive, even when he’s trying to hide his feelings. But in the dark shadow of the old building, its outdoor lighting woefully inadequate, I can't read anything.

  "Lilly." He says my name slowly. Like it's a foreign word he's trying to understand and pronounce correctly. The air between us crackles. All at once, I feel like I’ve been transported over oceans and back through time to when we first met three months ago and were so drawn to each other. It’s as potent now as it was then. That inherent attraction, how Harry could see and understand me in ways that no one ever had before, how my body sprang to life and wanted what it had stopped believing in. All this returns from a single touch, from just sharing the same air. It's all still here. And it’s mutual.

 

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