Forever with Him

by Sofia Tate

  “Would you mind terribly if I left you for a bit?” Davison asks. “Luciana’s father is dying to show me his favorite pieces and talk some more.”

  I give him a short kiss on the lips. “Not at all. I’ll find you later.”

  I break away from the group and find myself by the gift table. I had told Lucy that gifts were not necessary, but my best friend, being who she is, couldn’t resist telling the guests that gifts were acceptable. Davison and I hadn’t even planned on registering anywhere since we already had everything we needed when it came to the essentials, and honestly, it would’ve felt odd, a man of Davison’s wealth asking our guests to buy him things like a toaster or a set of bath towels when he could purchase the entire registry himself.

  “Congratulations, Allegra!”

  I spin away from the table and smile when I see Lucy’s mother, Helena, in front of me. We give each other a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she says into my shoulder.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Gibbons. Everything looks so nice.”

  Helena Gibbons is petite and curvy with gray eyes and light blonde hair, a spitting image of Lucy except for the blue eyes Lucy inherited from her father. Mrs. Gibbons is a former opera singer who gave up her career to stay at home with Lucy, which Lucy says her mother has never regretted.

  “It’s our pleasure. After everything that you and Davison have been through, you deserve this. We were more than happy to host the party.”

  “As if Lucy would’ve taken no for an answer,” I add.

  She nods at me. “Too right, my dear. I’d better go make sure she isn’t driving the caterer crazy.”

  “Good idea.”

  I see waiters bringing out the quiches and the rest of the food that Lucy had mentioned, so she must’ve put the fear of Luciana Gibbons into the caterer. I head back inside to look for her just to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind and to reassure her that everything was amazing.

  I make a wrong turn in the loft, probably a bit light-headed from drinking champagne on an empty stomach, when I hear raised voices behind a closed door.

  “What is wrong with you? You know Davison and Allegra. It’s not like these guests are celebrities, for crying out loud!”

  Oh fuck, it’s Lucy shouting at someone. And my only guess who the person on the receiving end of that remark would be…

  “Yes, but Davison is rich. Very rich. And so are you, Luciana,” a low voice replies in a Czech accent.

  Yup. Bingo. Tomas.

  “For fuck’s sake, I’m not rich. My father is. Can’t you put aside your stupid aversion to people who have slightly more money than you, wipe that woe-is-me look off your face, and just enjoy the party?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable here,” he mumbles.

  “Well, suck it up,” she snaps back at him, “because the party’s just started and it won’t be ending any time soon.”

  I hear a pause, and then, “I’ll never be enough for you, Luciana,” he says before yanking the door open.

  I jump back in time before either he or Lucy can see me, hiding in the laundry room next door.

  I poke my head out and see an empty hallway. Instead of looking for Lucy, I head farther into the loft, where I find Tomas staring at a Jasper Johns.

  I quietly sidle up next to him. “Hey, Tomas.”

  He turns to me at the sound of my voice. “Hallo, Allegra.” He stares at the painting, one of Johns’s many representations of the American flag. “This is probably famous, yes?”

  “It is. It’s a Jasper Johns.”

  “And expensive probably.”

  “Very.” I pause. “Do you know why I know who Jasper Johns is?”

  “No,” he replies with a grunt.

  “Because Luciana told me. I had no real knowledge of art before I met her. I mean, sure, I knew who the Mona Lisa was, I could recognize Monet’s lilies, but this modern stuff, I had no clue. The first time I came over here, I was so intimidated by everything. I was afraid to touch anything. But Lucy just laughed it off and told me who painted what and the meaning behind the piece, never once telling me what the art was worth because it didn’t matter.”

  Tomas turns to me, his tall, strong body standing at least a whole foot above me as he looks down at me. “Allegra, my father is a farmer and my mother is a schoolteacher.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “So what? I’m the daughter of a butcher. Do you think that matters to Davison? He doesn’t care about the amount of money in my checking account. He loves me for me. And it’s the same way Lucy feels about you. She doesn’t care what your parents do for a living. She loves you for you. If you only knew how long she’s had a crush on you.”

  He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “How long?”

  I smile at the memory. “Since the day you first met when she bumped into you at school.”

  The sullen look on his face changes in a flash. “And then yelled at me for being in her way,” he grins widely, recalling the moment just as vividly as me, probably even more so.

  “You completely rattled her. She wasn’t expecting someone like you on that first day of classes, but there you were, and she’s been besotted ever since.”

  “Besotted?” he asks.

  I smile back at him. “It means she was into you, Tomas. Big-time. She just never made a move because she was too afraid you’d reject her.”

  He shakes his head in exasperation, laughing to himself under his breath. “Stupid woman.”

  I nod in agreement. “Pretty much. She pretends to be all tough and strong, which she totally is, but deep down, she’s just as scared as anyone else of falling in love with someone and finding out the other person doesn’t feel the same way.”

  I watch as Tomas turns still, probably absorbing everything I’ve just told him.

  I place my hand on his arm. “Look, just go talk to her. If you tell her what you just told me, I’ll bet you she’ll be much more understanding.”

  He nods. “All right. Thank you, Allegra.” He leans in and pecks me on the cheek. “And congratulations.”

  I watch him walk away toward the kitchen when a pair of arms encircles my waist. “You okay, baby?” Davison whispers in my ear.

  Without saying a word, I spin around in his embrace and kiss him on the lips, long, wet, and deep.

  When we finally pull apart with only an inch or two between us, Davison holds me with one arm while stroking my cheek with the other. I can feel my eyes misting at his soft touch.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me, more nervous this time.

  I shake my head. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. Someone just reminded me to be grateful for what I have.”

  “And that would be?”

  I bite down on my lips to keep myself from crying. “Your love, Davison.”

  He takes my face between both of his hands and kisses me full on the lips. “Oh, baby, you always will,” he whispers when he pulls his mouth from mine.

  “Hey! Guests of honor! Get your butts outside! I’m about to give you a toast!”

  Lucy’s shouts cause Davison and me to pull apart, with Davison growling in protest under his breath. I turn and see Lucy standing with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently.

  Davison swiftly twists me around back to him. “We’ll be right there, Luciana,” Davison shouts back to her, but with his eyes still locked on mine.

  I hear Lucy stomp off. “It’s not a good idea to piss off the hostess, Harvard,” I inform him.

  “I just needed one more minute, Venus.”

  “For what?”

  He kisses me once more, softly and deeply. “For that.”

  Chapter Six

  Davison

  Charles is racing the Maybach north up the FDR Drive like a Formula One driver to take me to my final wedding tux fitting on the Upper East Side. I put down the copy of the Wall Street Journal that I’m reading and watch the various boats and barges sailing by on the East River. Ever since I’ve been with Allegra, she’s taught
me to look up from my laptop or phone once in a while and remember to appreciate the city I live in, even if it’s just to admire the majestic skyline of our beloved city or see what’s going on beyond the activities of the frenzied, insular business world that I work in. But at this moment, I’m actually thinking about the party yesterday and the moment I shared with Allegra in front of the Jasper Johns. And I know without a doubt that I’ll never look at another Johns the same way again.

  “Are you getting nervous about the wedding, sir?”

  I look up toward Charles, who is staring at me in the rearview mirror.

  I smile widely back at him. “Not at all. If it were up to me, Allegra and I would have flown to Vegas and gotten married in one of those drive-thru chapels. But I wanted her to have the wedding of her dreams, so whatever she wants, she gets, with no complaints from me.”

  He laughs from his driver’s seat. “I don’t think Miss Orsini’s father would have been too keen on you whisking away his only child to get married without allowing him the chance to walk her down the aisle.”

  I smile in agreement. “Indeed. I think he would’ve come after me with a meat cleaver and hunted me down to the ends of the earth if we had.”

  “She’s a lovely young woman. And if I may say, the perfect match for you, Mr. Berkeley.”

  My heart softens at the kind words from the man who’s been a father figure to me since I was a child. “Thank you, Charles. No argument there.”

  The Maybach comes to a stop. “Looks like there’s an accident up ahead,” he informs me.

  I pick up the paper again. “No worries. We’ve got time to spare.”

  As I scan the pages, a headline catches my attention. “Like Father, Not Like Son: Heir to Swiss Pharmaceutical Fortune Looking to Branch Out.” A picture of a young man accompanies the article right below the byline, a face I would recognize anywhere with his cocky grin and floppy hair.

  I quickly reach for my phone and call my assistant. “Eleanor, I need to you get contact numbers for Christoph Kahn at Kahn Medical in Zurich, both business and personal… No, that’s it. Just e-mail them to me ASAP once you have them… Thank you.”

  I end the call and stare out the window once more, grinning to myself.

  In two days, I’m marrying the love of my life, and I may have just found the perfect client for my firm.

  Life is fucking good.

  * * *

  Allegra

  With my hand tightly in his, Davison leads me into Le Bistro, where we are about to have our rehearsal dinner and our wedding. This is the place that holds so many memories for us, the most important one of all being that this is where we first met when I worked here as a coat-check girl.

  A cacophony of noise echoes down the narrow hallway from one of the private rooms in the back of the restaurant. Davison starts to walk in that direction when a realization comes over me. I tug on his hand, pulling him over to the side.

  A worried look crosses Davison’s face. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t be nervous.”

  “It’s been a crazy day, and I wanted to enjoy tonight without this hanging over me and you not knowing about it.”

  His hand grips me even harder. “You’re scaring me, Allegra.”

  I swallow deeply and continue. “Do you know someone named Brett Pryce?”

  He tilts his head in curiosity. “Yeah, by reputation. He’s a sleazy real estate developer who takes great pleasure in violating every building code in New York City. Why?”

  I sigh and inhale a deep breath. “I thought so. Papa called me very worried, asking me to come down to the shop right away, and when I got there, there were two guys measuring the shop for what’s-his-name Pryce. He sent Papa a letter that he’s buying his building, including the shop, and turning the apartments into co-ops. And you know Papa can’t afford any of that. I’m so worried that—”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he declares in that strong rumble of a voice that evokes the power and determination of a man who has the ability to make anything happen if he wishes it.

  “I know, but, Davison, it’s so much money, and—”

  He takes my face in both of his hands, kissing me quickly but firmly. Then his eyes lock on mine, fierce and blazing in strength that sends electric pulses to every single nerve ending in my body. “It’s done.”

  I know that it won’t matter how long we’ll be together, I will always be overwhelmed by the force of the unconditional love this man has for me and his unfailing generosity to anyone who needs it. I clamp my lips over his, kissing him long and deep. “Thank you, Davison” is all I can manage in a whisper when I pull away from him.

  “Anything for you, baby.” He kisses me fast on the lips. “Now let’s go celebrate you becoming Mrs. Davison Cabot Berkeley.”

  I start to shiver in excitement. “Lead the way, Harvard.”

  We take the final steps together toward the space where our family and friends are waiting for us.

  Entering the doorway, I take in the group gathered tonight. Everyone has drinks in their hands as servers make their rounds with trays of hors d’oeuvres. Lucy and Tomas are talking to Derek, our favorite accompanist from our alma mater, Gotham Conservatory, and Derek’s husband, Aaron. Ian Parker is chatting with Davison’s mother and Elias Crawford, the co-owner of Le Bistro and Davison’s godfather, while Papa is in deep conversation with Signora Pavoni.

  Lucy is the first one to spot us. “About damn time!” she shouts in her own loving way, and a loud round of cheers and applause rises from the group. Suddenly, Davison and I are separated as we’re swallowed up by everyone greeting us at once.

  It’s only when the group parts slightly that I can take in the beauty of the room. I had decided on black and cream for the wedding décor, and I had shown Elias pictures I’d found on Pinterest of what I’d wanted the room to look like for the dinner. My breath is taken away because the reality is much more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. A long communal table stands in the center of the room covered in a cream tablecloth and linens. Down the middle of the table is a long black flower box with about a hundred cream roses standing upright as if they were sprouting from it. Small votive candles in petite black round glass candleholders line the outside edges of the flowers.

  Lucy comes over to me, shoving a flute of champagne into my hands. “Here, drink.”

  She smiles at me, but her grin barely reaches her cheeks as she swirls a glass of clear liquid with ice in her right hand.

  I frown at the sight of my best friend because I know without a doubt she isn’t drinking water. Taking a sip of my drink, I pull her over to the side of the room. “Okay, what the hell, Lucy? You were all waterworks at Maggie’s, and now you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here.”

  She takes a huge swig of her drink. “Fucking Tomas. He still refuses to talk to me, and I’ve had it. Seriously, Alli, he’s acting like such an ass, and I refuse to kiss it.”

  I glance over at Tomas, who is leaning against the wall, staring into his beer glass, a sullen look across his face just like the one he had in front of the Jasper Johns at Lucy’s apartment.

  I shake my head in exasperation, wondering why Tomas hasn’t talked to her yet like he said he would, when I hear ice cubes clinking. I gesture to the glass in Lucy’s hand. “What is that? Alcohol?”

  “No, it’s water. I’m feeling nauseous enough as it is.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I’m glad you’re taking it easy.”

  Lucy glares back at me. “So what if it were? Who the fuck do you think you are? My sponsor?” she snaps at me.

  My head rears back in shock, and I lean in closer to her. “Listen to me, whatever crawled up your ass tonight, shake it off, because this is an important night for Davison and me, and I’m hoping my best friend will show up eventually to support me.”

  She walks away in a huff and heads straight for the bar.

  I shut my eyes in frustration, taking a deep breath to relax me. />
  A Southern accent snaps me back. “Drink up, darlin’; it’s going to be a long night.”

  I smile as Derek and Aaron embrace me simultaneously. I kiss them both on the cheeks. “My favorite couple in the world. How are you?”

  “Aaron is up for tenure at Columbia,” Derek announces proudly about his husband, a history professor.

  I give Aaron a celebratory hug. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you.” He thanks me in a quiet voice, always so modest.

  Derek steps in closer. “May I touch the pretty?” he asks, pointing to a sleeve on my dusty-rose silk dress.

  I smile as Aaron rolls his eyes and says, “Derek, really.”

  I laugh. “It’s fine, Aaron. He did ask nicely, after all.”

  “That’s because I’m a gentleman of New Orleans with impeccable manners,” Derek counters. He swipes his hand over the fabric. “Gorgeous, darlin’. Love the shoes as well.”

  I lift one of my nude peep-toe patent leather pumps from the floor so he can get a better look.

  He leans in for a closer look. “I approve.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that; otherwise I’d have to go home and change shoes.”

  Derek and Aaron smile at my reply when I see Lucy dash out of the room, nearly toppling Charles over in the doorway.

  I quickly excuse myself and run after her. I look out into the hallway, but I don’t see her. “Do you need me, Miss Orsini?” Charles asks.

  “No, thank you, Charles. She’s probably in the restroom.”

  I take off for the ladies’ room, and when I open the door, I hear someone heaving in one of the stalls.

  “Oh shit! Lucy!”

  I rush to the paper towel dispenser and tug a few from it, soaking them under the water. I step into the stall and hold back Lucy’s hair with one hand as she vomits into the toilet while I hold my breath to keep myself from retching.

  She lifts her head and I shove the wet towels under her nose, watching as she takes them without a word. I listen as she moans, her arms moving as she wipes off her mouth. Then she shifts back and I offer my hand to help her to her feet.