I slump back down and tell them about why he said he left, about Chetana, about the girl’s notebook on the plane. By the time I’m done, Erin has tears in her eyes, and Sophie is shaking her head at me.
“And then he just walked off?” Sophie asks and I nod.
“He loves you,” Erin says, her hand on her heart. “He would have had a very good reason for doing that.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. Where did he go?” Sophie asks as she scans the room.
“Who knows? Probably India,” I scoff.
“Oh, Darce,” Erin says. “He’ll be back. I bet he left to work out how best to show you he loves you, that’s all.”
I harrumph.
The opening chords of a song from one of my favorite scenes in the movie Mamma Mia start up (the one where all the guys dance around on the beach in their skimpy shorts, although I like it purely for the music, nothing else, of course), and I look over at the stage to see who’s going to perform it. It’s empty.
“It looks like someone forgot they’re singing this song,” Erin says as she lifts her glass to her lips.
“Pity. It’s a great song,” I reply.
“Look.” Sophie’s eyes are trained on the stage.
I turn to face the stage again and spot a man in sunglasses, dressed in a white jumpsuit with the shirt open almost to his waist. He would look like he stepped straight out of an ABBA video from the ’70s if it weren’t for the fact he’s got a significantly better body on him than either Björn or Benny ever sported. And yes, I know, that’s not exactly hard.
The guy lifts the microphone to his lips and sings the opening line to Lay All Your Love On Me. He sounds awful. Totally tuneless, tone-deaf, the works. I thought Sophie was a terrible singer, but this guy takes the cake, the cake stand, and the table cloth.
I turn back to my friends. “This guy is horrible!”
“The worst!” Sophie says. “And I can say that because this guy is worse than me.”
He continues to butcher the song, and then, as he launches into the chorus, imploring some poor woman to lay all her love on him, he pulls his sunglasses off and looks directly at me.
My heart skips a beat.
No! It can’t be.
Alex is here, on the stage, singing an ABBA song in a terrible white ’70s jumpsuit.
With my jaw dropped open, my eyes dart to my friends. They’re both shooting me surprised smiles.
“That’s Alex?” I guffaw.
“OMG. He’s showing you he loves you! It’s so romantic,” Erin says as she gazes at him.
I turn back to watch as he continues to butcher the song. He’s dancing (poorly) and moving around as though he were born to sing, although he’s clearly not because he sounds like Janice from Friends.
Finally, when the song is over and he’s left standing on the stage, looking like a complete idiot in his ABBA getup, he grins at me, and my heart softens into a mushy, gooey marshmallow.
He did that for me.
He once told me he hates karaoke, and that he’d only do it to save the world from aliens or something else equally important. With no aliens in sight, I guess the important thing in the room is . . . me.
“Darcy,” he says into the microphone, “I will stand up here and sing any song you like until you take me back. Heck, I’ll stand here and sing all the songs until you take me back.”
“Take him back now!” someone from the audience calls out.
“Yeah, do it before he damages our eardrums!” someone else yells.
A bubble of laughter rises inside me, and I let out a snort. With a surge of sheer happiness, I press my hand over my mouth and watch as he steps off the stage and makes a beeline for me. In a few short strides of his long, white-jumpsuit-encased legs, he’s at our table once more.
I glance quickly at my friends. Their eyes are riveted on Alex, and I can tell they didn’t know this was part of the plan. I lift my own eyes to his and see the yearning written across his face.
“Did you like my song?” he asks.
“No,” I laugh. “You were terrible.”
“I told you I was. But I meant what I said. I’d do it again and again. For you.” He reaches for my hand. “Darcy, I love you with all my heart, and I promise I will never, ever hurt you again.”
Tears spring into my eyes. My heart is so full of glorious, warm sunshine, it feels like it could burst. Alex loves me. He loves me! Slowly, tentatively, I reach my hand out and place my palm against his chest. “I love you, too, Alex.”
His entire face lights up, and he wraps his fingers around my hand. “You have no idea how good that sounds.”
“I think I do.” A giddy laugh escapes my lips.
He pulls me up to my feet and then sweeps me up in one of our incredible, mind-blowing kisses.
The audience around us cheers and hollers, and I give them a small, embarrassed wave. I take his collar in my fingers. “Where did you get this outfit?”
“See that guy over there by the well?”
I look in the direction he’s pointing and see a man waving at us. “You borrowed this from him?”
“Yeah, although it’s getting a bit itchy.”
I laugh. “Maybe you should go get your clothes back. Who knows? That guy might actually be able to sing.”
He kisses me again, and my happiness fills me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Alex loves me. He’s back and he wants to be with me.
The fourteen-year-old girl in me gives a squeal of delight. Alex is mine, and I’m never letting go.
Epilogue
I push through the door to Cozy Cottage High Tea and am immediately hit by the warm, inviting ambience of the place. The music, the chatter, the clink of china, and, of course, the delicious aroma of freshly baked treats. Mmmm, definitely the freshly baked treats.
I reach the podium and smile at Sophie, who greets me with a warm hug. “Hey, Soph,” I say as I breathe in her perfume.
“Darce, I love the outfit! Blue be gone, right?” she says.
I glance down at my pink (Barbie, clearly) dress and cute nude peep-toe heels. Blue has run its course in the office for Darcy Evans, and now, finally, I’ve taken a stand. This morning, I chose an outfit from the other end of my closet—the one with all the colors of the rainbow—and strode confidently into the office.
“How did Larissa take it?” Sophie asks.
“Oh, she looked like she was having an aneurysm for about five full seconds until I threw in some Larissa-speak about self-realization through color experimentation. Or some such garbage. She totally bought it, and I plan on making it my plight to free the oppressed masses at work from the color blue.”
I think of the way Alex described my stand as “shaking Cookie Monster off,” of “rising from the Smurf ashes like a phoenix.” Or some such crap. Really, the guy should go work for Larissa himself.
“Good for you for taking a stand, babe,” Sophie says.
I shrug. “It’s only clothes. It’s not like I’ve found a cure for the common cold or saved the whales, or something.”
“Sometimes it’s not about the grand gestures. Sometimes it’s about the little day-to-day things that have an impact.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’re sounding very philosophical and wise, Soph.”
“I am very philosophical and wise. You know that,” she replies with a wink.
I glance around High Tea. “Is Alex here?”
“Not yet.”
“You know, I used to come in here, hoping not to have to see him.”
“But that was before.”
I nod. Before I realized what I felt for him wasn’t hate, before I knew him, before I’d even given him a chance.
“Oh, you’re so loved-up, girl,” Sophie says with a shake of her head. “And my cousin is exactly the same. He went all goofy when Mom asked him about you at the Mandatory McCarthy Meal on Sunday.”
I try to suppress a huge grin from spreading across my face. A
nd I fail.
“Sophie! Darcy!”
I turn to see Erin walk through the door with a gaggle of extremely well put-together women, all dressed in expensive designer clothes without a hair out of place.
I greet her with a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought some of the players’ girlfriends for high tea. This is Marla, Janessa, and Karli,” she says, and each of the women nods and says hello to us. “They’re WAGS. Wives And Girlfriends.”
“We deserve this treat. Our boyfriends have been away for three weeks already this season. We need sugar,” one of them says, and the others all nod their agreement.
“And we’re trying to match-make Erin with one of the single guys on the team,” the blonde one adds.
“Really?” I say. “How’s that working out so far?” I shoot Sophie a look. We both know there’s no way Erin will ever date a rugby player. She’s only told us about a gazillion times.
“She’s not said yes yet, but we’ve got the best guy lined up for her,” the blonde one replies. “She’ll be powerless to resist.”
“Well, good luck!” I say.
Erin rolls her eyes at me and mouths, “Not gonna happen.”
“I’ve got your table all ready, ladies,” Sophie announces with a pile of menus in her hands. “If you’d like to follow me?”
As Erin and the WAGs follow Sophie to their table, I wait by the podium for my date.
“Well, hello there,” says a deep, familiar voice at my side.
I turn to see Alex beaming at me, looking impossibly handsome, as he always does. Even though it’s been two weeks and three days since he dressed up in a white jumpsuit and sang an ABBA song to me at Jojo’s—well, I say “sang,” but it was really “slaughtered beyond all recognition” if I were to be completely honest—my tummy still does a little flip whenever I lay eyes on him. Today is no different.
“Hey, you,” I say as I place my hand lightly on his chest and gaze up at him.
He slinks an arm around my middle. “Hey,” he replies, gazing down at me with such love in his eyes, my heart stops entirely for at least three seconds. “You look so beautiful.”
“Not a Smurf in sight?”
“Not a Smurf in sight.” He holds my gaze for a moment then looks up and says, “You know, I’ve never actually been a customer here before.”
“Do you miss the pink High Tea apron, because I’m sure Soph could get you one to wear while we’re eating.”
“I think I’m good.”
Sophie reappears and shows us to the table I requested—in the cute, romantic courtyard out the back, the place where Bailey’s friends, Cassie and Will got married all that time ago.
We place our order with Natalie, our server, and then I hand Alex a sheet of paper I’d folded up and slotted into my Labrador puppy notebook. I wait with anticipation as he reads it.
After a moment, he looks from the paper up at me, his eyes wide. “You’re telling me that not only did I sell all my photographs at the exhibition, but I have all these orders now, too?”
I shrug. “You’re a visionary genius, remember?”
He lets out a laugh. “And quite a lot richer now, too, by the looks of things. Larissa is so right. I am a visionary genius.” His eyes sparkle with mischief.
I grin at him. “Your modesty is your only failing.”
“Oh, I know that. Cocky, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. Speaking of which, did I ever tell you I gave a speech about you at the gallery opening?”
“You did?”
“Someone had to say something after you’d taken off.”
He has the good sense to look abashed. “Something I will always regret.”
I give an indulgent shrug. If he hadn’t come back to me within the week, I’m not sure I’d be feeling quite so generous toward him, but he did, so I do. “It all worked out in the end.”
“What did you say in your speech?”
“I told everyone that although you were an excellent photographer, you were an a-grade jerk of the highest order.”
He lets out a surprised laugh. “Nice. Thanks.”
I nod at the paper in his hands. “It meant your photographs sold like hotcakes on the night and have continued to do so ever since.”
“And you think that’s because of your speech?”
“It’s because everyone knows any artist worth their salt is a complete jerk.”
He chuckles. “Is that so?”
“Oh, yes.”
“So, it’s not because I’m quite a good photographer and have been offered a bunch of work and another solo show since then?”
“Well, that too, I guess.”
“Here you go, you two,” Natalie, says as she deposits one of the High Tea three-tiered cake stands full of utter deliciousness on the table. “And here’s your pot of tea for two,” she adds.
“Thanks, Nat,” Alex says.
“It’s weird to have you as a customer, Alex,” she replies.
“What can I say? Along with Jojo’s, this is Darcy’s happy place, and keeping on the right side of Darcy is very important to me right now.”
“You make me sound like a terrible human being!” I protest.
“Just a little like The Hulk. ‘You won’t like me when I’m angry,’” he replies.
I let out a laugh as I shake my head. “See what I’ve got to deal with, Natalie?”
“Yeah. It must be tough dating a guy like Alex.” She throws me a smile then leaves the table.
“The Hulk. Seriously?” I question.
“But much better looking, of course.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose, although I think I would have preferred Wonder Woman.” I beam at him.
“Remind me to get you the costume.”
I giggle as I pour our tea into our delicate High Tea cups. I look up and catch Erin’s eye. She’s gazing at us wistfully, and I mouth the words, “your turn next.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, mouthing, “No way,” before she turns back to the WAGs.
Alex raises his eyebrows. “Tea may be quaint, but I think I’ll always be a coffee guy, you know.”
“Maybe. But with me today, you’re drinking tea. Earl Grey, to be precise. Remember, this is my happy place, and I’m The-Hulk-slash-Wonder-Woman.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “Well, you got me to sing karaoke, so why not drink tea, too?”
“I knew you’d come around to see things my way, Alexander.”
He chuckles. It’s low and gets those zings fired up inside me. “The day we kissed in the kitchen and you called me ‘Alexander,’ I knew you had feelings for me. Feelings you did not want to have.”
“I hated you,” I say simply.
“Sure you did.” He grins at me. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a gift. It’s badly wrapped, with a lot of tape, so I know he did it himself, which has me feeling even happier than I did when I laid eyes on him only moments before.
“What is it?” I ask as I take it in my hands.
“I didn’t go to all this effort wrapping it to just come out and tell you what it is. Open it.”
I unwrap the gift and gaze at a color photograph of me, looking out into the lens, smiling, my eyes bright and full of love, love for the guy who took the photo. “Wow, Alex, I look—”
“Beautiful,” he finishes for me.
“Well, I can’t say that, exactly, but I can compliment the photographer on making me look pretty darn good. And it’s in color.”
He squeezes my hand and says, “My black and white days are behind me, now.” We share a look, and I know he means it’s because of me. I brought the color back into his life. And yes, I know that sounds as cheesy as a French fromagerie, but it’s the truth.
“I thought I’d hang it up in my apartment,” he says. “It’ll be the first of many new photographs for my bare walls.”
I remember how
I was struck by the lack of décor at Alex’s home when I first saw it. Of course, I worked out afterwards that he’d had photos of Chetana and his time in India hung up before.
I push myself out of my chair, skim past the cake stand, and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you,” I murmur.
“Me too,” he replies.
This. This is what I wanted all along but never knew it. I was looking for my Happy For Now, and all I wanted to do was date a good guy. The last person on the planet I thought I would ever end up with was Alex Walsh. Yet here I am, in love and beyond happy, with the guy I thought I hated, the guy I loved all along.
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Darcy’s story! Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in the series, No More Horrible Dates. It’s Erin’s story, and it’s releasing on October 31st. You can pre-order No More Horrible Dates here.
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Now, here’s that sneak peek . . .
Sneak Peek at No More Horrible Dates
There are a few things you should know about me. First up, I don’t date jocks. Ever. Which is a problem, because in my job as Sponsorship Account Manager for the Hawks Rugby Team, I meet nothing but jocks. A “target-rich dating environment,” is what my BFF, Darcy calls it, but to me, dating one of them is about as appealing as having to follow a Great Dane around with a pooper scooper after a very large meal. Actually, now that I think about it, the Great Dane job would be an improvement. You get the picture.
Secondly, I’ve agreed to a pact with my best friends to find my H.F.N. (Happy For Now, for those of you not obsessed with romance novels the way I am, and on a side note, you should be because romance novels are awesome). Secretly, between you and me, I want to find my Happily Ever After. My H.E.A. I want to find The One, the guy I’m meant to be with. Not that I’ve told my friends that. No way. They think I’m looking for guys to date, not fall in love. But falling in love is what I dream of doing.
No More Terrible Dates Page 23