Mr. Knightsbridge

by Louise Bay

  I stepped out of the cab with the feeling I’d left something vital behind at home. But Hollie wasn’t back at my flat. I checked my watch. She’d have landed by now and I still hadn’t heard anything.

  This evening was meant to be different. I’d thought I was going to introduce her to my brother.

  I tried to shake it off, put on my best poker face, as I pushed the revolving door into the lobby. Near the check-in desk stood a woman whose profile looked familiar. Her hair was a chestnut brown bob and she was a little taller than Hollie. And then she turned in my direction.

  Bridget.

  My heart began to pound as if I’d been searching for buried treasure for a decade and my spade had just hit gold.

  She looked at me with no recognition in her eyes, turned and started toward the bank of lifts.

  “Bridget,” I called after her. I couldn’t let her walk away without saying something.

  She stopped and turned around. Narrowing her eyes, she took two steps toward me. “Dexter? Oh my God, how are you?”

  “Hi,” I said, bending to kiss her on both cheeks, preparing myself to touch her for the first time in so long. But when my lips reached her cheek, there was no longing, no physical reaction at being so close to her after so long. “It’s been awhile. How are you?”

  “Great,” she said smiling. “You look good. But then you always did. What are you up to?”

  “Here for an event in the ballroom.” This stilted small talk was odd, considering this was the woman I’d long considered the love of my life.

  “Explains the bowtie,” she said. “I’m meeting a girlfriend for drinks downstairs.”

  “Shall I walk you down?” I offered.

  She shrugged. “If you like.”

  We headed over to the lifts in silence and I glanced over at her, trying to remember what about her had been so special. “Are you still a tennis fan?” I asked.

  “More of a spectator these days,” she replied. “Although I do play occasionally.”

  The lift pinged open and I followed her inside.

  As the doors closed, she looked up at me. “Dexter, I should have said something years ago when . . . your parents, you know. I’m really sorry I wasn’t more supportive to you when they died.” Her mouth twitched and she shifted her handbag from one shoulder to the other. “It was just that things had been so casual between us and then this huge thing happened to you and I couldn’t handle it.”

  Had I been so lost during that time that I didn’t remember anything about our relationship? David had the impression Bridget was no one special to me and now Bridget herself was saying the same thing. “It’s fine,” I said, confused and hoping she’d elaborate. “I can’t quite recall the details.”

  “Well, I’m not proud of myself,” she said. “I shouldn’t have just finished things with you when you needed someone.”

  I’d always thought I’d broken up with her, messed it up by being stubborn and stupid. Bridget clearly had a different view of what had happened between us.

  “It was a long time ago,” I replied.

  Part of me wanted to probe, dig deeper, ask more about her memories from that time. They seemed so completely opposite from what I recalled. But here we were—two almost strangers. It didn’t seem right to ask someone who didn’t know me about the most difficult time in my life.

  “It was,” she replied. “That doesn’t make it right. You had your friends though.”

  I smiled. “I did. I still do, actually. The six of us are still close.”

  She turned toward me. “Wow. That’s really nice.”

  More than nice, but if Bridget wasn’t lucky enough to have friendships as strong as mine then I wasn’t going to make her feel bad about it. I had the most incredible life with the most incredible people in it. I had nothing to regret or feel bad about.

  Whatever had happened between us all those years ago just didn’t matter.

  Whether or not she was important to me at the time or I’d simply mythologized her because she’d come before my parents’ death, when life had been good—she was nothing to me now. The woman in front of me wasn’t Bridget. She wasn’t the woman I’d clearly created in my head as proof I’d never be married. Be in love. Have a future with someone.

  We stepped out of the lift and stopped at the entrance of the bar where she was meeting her friend.

  “It was really good to see you,” I said, smiling as if I’d won tonight already.

  She half smiled at me, as if she couldn’t understand why I might be telling the truth. “You too.”

  I turned back to the lift. She would never know how good it was to have bumped into her. Only now was I able to say goodbye to a lie I’d been telling myself for so long. Seeing her had cut the last few strands that were tying me to my past.

  I’d been set free.

  Standing beside Primrose, I angled myself away from the far end of the room where the entries were displayed. I hadn’t even looked at the designs of the other four finalists, and I didn’t want to see their finished products. My father always said that comparing yourself to others led to madness, and it was a rule I lived by. Primrose, on the other hand, knew everything about everybody else’s designs, which were all showcased on the back wall of the ballroom.

  “It’s about personal choice at the end of the day,” she said to the editor of The Jeweller magazine, who had come over to welcome us but had really wanted to know how stressed and competitive we were. “We just focused on designing and making a collection worthy of Her Royal Highness.”

  “Anything you want to add?” the journalist asked me.

  “I’m just looking forward to an enjoyable evening with my team. I hope we raise a lot of money for charity,” I said.

  To win tonight would be the pinnacle of everything I’d worked for my entire life. But I wasn’t about to admit that to a journalist. The winning shouldn’t matter. I knew we had produced an incredible collection—it incorporated the heritage of Finland and the royal family as well as raising the profile about global issues. And on top of all that, it was some of the finest jewelry in existence.

  But the winning did matter. To me at least. My parents would never know—would never get to appreciate it—but I wanted to do something I knew they would have been proud of. My fortune wouldn’t have impressed them. No doubt it was their lack of interest in money and profit that had left the business on the brink when they died. No, they would be interested in the pieces. In the creativity. In the stones.

  And we’d nailed all of it.

  I spotted Tristan through the crowd a few meters away, and he headed toward us, glass in hand. “I might not know anything about jewelry,” he said. “But if it was up to me, you’d win. Congratulations, mate. By far the best entry in the room.”

  “I agree,” Primrose said as Tristan kissed her on the cheek. “But I’m slightly biased.”

  Gabriel came up behind him. “Well done,” he said. “It all looks spectacular. And no gimmicks. Did you see that first entry as you come in has some kind of graphic scene behind it?”

  “It’s clever,” Tristan said. “But it means you’re looking at the film and not the crown thing. Which is probably for the best. Because it was very mediocre.” Tristan, like all my friends, was loyal to the core.

  “Very mediocre,” agreed Beck, as he appeared from nowhere. I hadn’t been sure he’d make it. “The Daniels & Co entry is spectacular, on the other hand.” He glanced around. “Where’s Hollie?”

  Lucky for me, Gabriel distracted him, probably remembering that Hollie didn’t want the rest of my business to know we were dating. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t here, and I wasn’t sure we were dating anymore. After she’d left, I’d checked the flat over and over, but she’d taken every single last thing of hers. And I knew she hadn’t left anything at her studio. She had no reason to come back. Was that it? Was I supposed to just say, “Thanks, see you around”?

  I’d sent an email to Autumn but I’d heard no
thing.

  I wanted Hollie here. To see what she’d earned. To see what she was capable of.

  We were called to our table and Gabriel, Tristan and Beck headed to the table next to the one where I would sit with the Daniels & Co team. I glanced around to find David before following them.

  “Mum and Dad would have loved to have seen you both here,” he said as he came up behind Primrose and me.

  I pulled him in for a hug. I didn’t want to let go. I’d spent so long angry at him I’d forgotten to miss him. But having him back in my life, it all came flooding back. I liked his laugh and the way he was terrible at football. I remembered how he was so grouchy if things weren’t fair. I remembered him plastering my knees, giving me Chinese burns and cutting my hair when I was about eight; it had gotten too long and our parents were too busy to notice. He’d been the consummate big brother. When he’d sold the business to Sparkle, all those memories had been locked away. Now I’d allowed them out, it was as if I was more me.

  I was whole now I had my memories of us back.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “Wild horses couldn’t have stopped me,” he said as we parted. “This is my wife, Layla.”

  A small, pretty blond woman stood beside him, beaming. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said and threw her arms around my neck as if she was my long-lost sister. I supposed she was in a way. “I feel like I know you. Primrose always kept us up to date, but it’s not the same as being able to see you in the flesh.”

  I glanced at Primrose. I’d never told her not to talk to David about me. I’d spent years trying to act as if I didn’t have a brother, and now I wished I could get those years back.

  “Sounds like I have some catching up to do,” I said.

  She grabbed my hand. “Lots. Come round for supper this week, will you?” I nodded, realizing I didn’t even know where they lived. So much wasted time. “And bring someone if you want?” Frustration clutched at my stomach as I imagined Hollie back in Oregon. She was probably home with her sister now. However hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine her in America. She belonged in London.

  I shook my head. “I’m a party of one,” I said.

  We made our way to our table, with me fastidiously avoiding looking across the room at the competitors’ pieces. I’d look if we lost. But not before the winner was announced.

  Our first courses were delivered and as Primrose chatted to David and Layla, I checked my phone, but it was blank. I’d put my phone number in my email to Autumn and was hoping for a message from Hollie. It didn’t feel right that she wasn’t here. The last-minute changes we’d made to the tiara on her suggestion had elevated the piece to another level. I’d been so fucking proud of her. I knew in that moment she was going to have a fantastic career.

  But she needed to learn to put herself and her own needs first.

  If she was determined to be drawn back to Oregon at every opportunity, then no doubt, she’d have to make do with an Etsy store. And that would be a waste of talent.

  The meal dragged on, intermittently interrupted by short films about the charities that had been supported and speeches on the industry and Finland. The entire room was smiling and feigning interest. I glanced at the next table and saw Beck, Gabriel and Tristan chatting away and then across from me, my brother and his wife. Next to me, Primrose. Not all the guys had managed to come tonight, but other than Andrew and Joshua, everyone important in my life was here. The only person missing was Hollie.

  After the plates were cleared and the amounts raised for charity announced, the room began to quieten. Everyone was ready. All heads were turned to the podium and side conversations hushed.

  The princess of Finland was welcomed on stage to finally announce the winner. Not just months, but a lifetime of preparation had come down to this moment. Her Royal Highness was going to decide whether or not I’d picked up that baton from my parents and carried it with me.

  I was usually quite a patient man—fine jewelry making required it—but right then I wished I could press the skip button on the princess and get to the part where she announced the winner. Instead she talked about the charities being supported. About Finland, her family and her fiancé. With every sentence my insides coiled tighter and tighter, images flashing into my head of me as a boy in my parents’ shop, me opening my first business, taking my first commission. I glanced at my brother, whose gaze was glued to the stage.

  “And now,” she said. “To the winner. As you know, I’ve been advised by the expert panel who were responsible for selecting the finalists and I’ve made my choice.” I swallowed. I knew we’d done our absolute best. The thought that it might not be good enough gnawed at my throat.

  “The winner’s design was inspiring in so many ways. I love the way it incorporates the ethereal beauty of the Finnish landscape without compromising on the design.”

  That sounded promising. She could be talking about Daniels & Co, but because I hadn’t seen the other finalists, perhaps it could apply to them as well.

  “And the quality of the stones and settings was outstanding.”

  I imagined she’d say that about whoever won.

  “But I also loved how there were small references to my mother’s wedding jewelry.” She paused and the breath in my chest turned solid, rendering me entirely still. “The winner is Daniels & Co.”

  The corners of my mouth twitched, the rock beneath my ribcage dissolved and I released the breath I’d been holding. I glanced at my brother, who was on his feet, his arms in the air, cheering. His wife was beaming as if she’d known me for the last fifteen years. Over at the table beside ours, Tristan had two fingers in his mouth and was whistling. Gabriel stepped across and pulled me into a hug.

  I was proud and pleased and relieved. But despite being exactly where I wanted to be, with everything I’d been working for . . . it wasn’t enough. Because Hollie wasn’t by my side to share in it. All I wanted was to turn to her and kiss her.

  Instead, I took Primrose’s hand and led her to the stage.

  Thirty

  Dexter

  I lay my hand, palm up, on the shiny mahogany of the bar. “I swear, my skin’s about to break I’ve shaken so many hands tonight,” I said, before downing a gulp of whiskey. As soon as we won, I’d wanted to leave, but Primrose made it clear I was to stick around. It wasn’t the skin on my hands that truly hurt. It was the stormy darkness swirling in my gut that I couldn’t drink away. Hollie should have been here tonight. She should be here now. With me.

  “For a guy who just reached the pinnacle of his career, you don’t seem very happy,” Gabriel said.

  My driver had taken Primrose and the trophy home and was going to come back for me. I’d been ready to leave but I didn’t want to go home, so Gabriel and Tristan had brought me to a nearby bar. My driver would be outside by now but I wasn’t ready to go back to the flat. Maybe I’d grab a room at a hotel. There was no point in going back to empty room after empty room. Not until I’d drunk a lot more. There was no one there to go home for. “I just have a sore hand,” I replied.

  “Right,” he said, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Tristan never misses an opportunity to get a number, does he?”

  “He tries too hard,” I said. It wasn’t true. Tristan didn’t need to try—he just liked the challenge—but I was taking my bad mood out on my friends. I needed to go out for a run or take a shower or do something to clear my head.

  “I presume the fact that Hollie isn’t here has something to do with your demeanor,” Gabriel said. “As well as your sore hand.” He didn’t roll his eyes because that wasn’t Gabriel’s style, but he might as well have done.

  There was no point in talking about Hollie. She was gone.

  I finished my drink and ordered another. “You want one?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “Come on, mate. What happened? You should be happier than a pig in shit.”

  “She had some kind of family crisis
at home. Left early.”

  “Oregon home?” he asked and I nodded. No doubt he had to check because it was so bloody ridiculous that she’d leave London completely. I should have forced the conversation about her staying in London. I’d just been busy with the competition and it didn’t occur to me that she’d up and go back to the US with no notice. I didn’t know who to be angrier with—her for just taking off or myself for not making her stay.

  “But she’s coming back, right?”

  “On the basis I’ve not had a single message or call since she left for the airport, I’m assuming she’s gone for good.” As I said the words my stomach churned. Could that be true?

  I’d heard nothing. And I didn’t believe that bullshit about no news being good news.

  “The phone works two ways, you know,” Gabriel said.

  “I don’t have a number for her. She was using a company phone here, and she left it. I’ve emailed her sister. What more can I do?”

  Gabriel beckoned over the barman and ordered another drink. “Do you want her back?”

  “I wanted her here tonight.” I’d assumed we’d have time to figure things out after we’d won the competition. I’d assumed she wanted to stay. I’d assumed a lot of things. Things had been good between us and she loved London. She wouldn’t be going back to Oregon if it had been her choice. She wouldn’t have missed tonight.

  But it definitely had been her choice not to call me. Or leave me with her US number.

  “It’s hard not to put family first,” Gabriel said. “It’s a natural reaction.”

  Hollie’s generosity and thoughtfulness were at the core of who she was, and I didn’t want that to change. “I just want her to be happy and stop sacrificing herself for people who should be able to look after themselves. I want her to get what she wants out of the world.” She deserved a happy and successful life where she wasn’t just looking after other people. But maybe I was being selfish.

  “Sounds like you’re serious about her.”

  There was no doubt about that. “Tonight was meant to have been special. I’ve worked so hard to live up to my parents’ reputation, and to have that recognized tonight was all I could have wished for. You’re right. I should be fucking ecstatic instead of a miserable bastard, drowning my sorrows at the bar.” I took another sip of my drink. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d be a hell of a lot more miserable if we hadn’t won.”