Jeremy gives a quick shake of his head as if to wake himself. “I’ve … forgotten that conversation. But, yes, that was an idea I had. Have, actually.”
“Are you writing that book?” Gordon says.
“I said nothing,” Amanda says when Jeremy looks to her.
Now we’re all waiting for his answer.
“Yes,” he says to Gordon. “I am.”
It’s my turn to gape. Jeremy’s sudden interest in his napkin placement proves he’s avoiding my eye.
Gordon nods. “That’s a book I’ll read.”
Jeremy looks up at him, eyes wide. “Thank you.”
I keep my mouth shut about Jeremy’s literary novel through dessert and coffee, but after we say good-bye and get back in Laura’s car, I let go. “How is it that your mother knew you’re writing something I’ve never heard of? Did you know, Laura?” Her eyes give her away. “So your mother and your sister knew.” I look behind me again. “Mom?”
“He mentioned it,” she says quietly.
“What the fuck, Jeremy.”
He gets out of the car. After a moment, I realize he’s not getting back in, and I get out too. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to cool down.”
“I shouldn’t have to cool down. I shouldn’t have a reason to be upset.”
We glare at each other over the roof of the car.
He looks away first. “I didn’t know if I could do it.”
“What does that have to do with telling everyone but me?”
He glances at me before dropping his gaze. We stand there under the streetlight, a cold wind tearing down the street and straight up my skirt.
“Jeremy?”
He still doesn’t look up. “I didn’t want you to know if I failed.”
“But you haven’t failed, have you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I could have told you that you wouldn’t fail. I know you. I recognize your talent. I believe in you.”
He looks at me for a long time, swallowing hard, but the streetlights catch the glimmer in his eyes.
“Are we going to stand out here until I freeze solid?” I ask.
“I’m sorry … not for the cold … well, I mean—”
“Yeah, yeah. And what about Penny James?”
“She’s all you now!” Laura yells from inside the car.
I look through the window at her and then at Jeremy.
“Me? Write by myself? I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can,” the three of them chorus.
I shake my head.
Jeremy walks around the car and puts his hands on my shoulders. “I know you. I recognize your talent. I believe in you.”
*
We’ve been at Ethan’s party for an hour. I’m cold because the terrace doors are open, supposedly to clear some of the smoke, but still there’s a thick haze adding a touch of unreality to the scene. At the moment, I’m standing where I can watch Ethan. And Ethan’s watching Laura while pretending not to.
The thing about Ethan is that he thinks he hides his heart better than he does. Or is it just me that sees he’s been in love with Laura for a long time? The saddest part is that he knows nothing can ever come of it. In Laura’s eyes, Ethan’s just another of her brothers. In Jeremy’s eyes, though a great best friend, Ethan’s also a womanizing dog he wouldn’t allow within a mile of his sister.
Ethan catches me watching him and crosses the room to stand by me. “Why are you hiding back here? Not enjoying my party?”
“I’m just observing.”
“Gathering material for your next book?”
“Not unless I’m going to write a sad story of unrequited love.”
He looks me in the eye for a minute. “You’re too observant I think.”
“Possibly.” I kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“Life has a cruel sense of humor.”
“Still …”
He nods. “Change the subject.”
“Okay,” I say. “So point out which of these women Jeremy’s slept with.”
“Ha.” He takes a sip of his drink. “I’d prefer not to die at the hands of my best friend, if you don’t mind.”
“So some of them are here.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did.” I’m teasing, but my smile dies when Ethan turns a serious face to me.
“None of that matters now.”
“Oh, sure. I was only—”
“He loves you to a depth I never really believed possible.” When a couple of loud guys join a woman near us, Ethan leads us a few feet away. “You already know he never intended to marry Alison, but the truth is, he never intended to marry anyone. We discussed it over many hours—some of them sober actually.” Now he gives me that charming Ethan grin. “Can’t say either of us saw anything but liabilities to marriage. Until he fell for you. And even then, I thought he’d get over it. Come to his senses.” He looks across the room to where Jeremy’s in conversation. “I’ve never been more wrong in my life.” He turns back to me. “And I’m happy to say that.”
“Thank you, Ethan.”
He holds up his right hand and then leans close to my ear. “Just know that if you mess him up, I swear to get revenge. And I know where you live.”
I’m speechless.
Ethan backs up, grinning. I smack his shoulder. He laughs, wraps an arm around me, and walks us toward the bar. “You’re not drinking enough, luv.”
*
We’re riding in Uncle Bert’s Rolls on the way to dinner. Mom’s spent so much time with him that I can’t believe she’s not acting sad about leaving London tomorrow. But maybe enjoying his company has opened her to dating more back home, and she’s just looking forward to that.
Our reservations are at Duck & Waffle, which Jeremy assures me is a fantastic restaurant on the fortieth floor of a tower with a spectacular view of the city. I’m wearing the conservative black sheath dress I borrowed from Gabi, but I’ve spiced it up with my new silk jacket and spike-heeled knee boots from Laura’s closet.
Okay. So when Jeremy described the restaurant in a tower, I pictured some normal skyscraper. That’s not what I see.
“It looks like a rocket,” Mom says.
“It’s nicknamed the Gherkin,” Uncle Bert tells her.
“It looks like something else to me,” I say.
“Chelsea!” Mom says, scandalized, but apparently oblivious that she’s revealing she had the same thought.
Jeremy and Uncle Bert crack up.
A few minutes later, we’re seated at a table with the London nightscape stretched before us. Wow. I’m trying not to overreact and make Jeremy insecure again, but geez. Being rich sure does have some benefits.
When the hostess produces the wine list, Uncle Bert looks to Jeremy. “Shall I?”
“By all means.”
We sit for a few minutes, just sipping wine and looking at the view. Mom and Uncle Bert are talking quietly about something. I’m soaking up the experience. London has been an amazing adventure. Although it almost tore us apart, we’ve ended up closer than ever. I needed to see Jeremy here to fully understand and appreciate him.
“Thank you,” he whispers to me.
“For what?”
“Everything, but especially for making me come back here. For giving me back my family.”
“Even Richard?”
“We’ll see,” he says, but he’s smiling.
The appetizers Uncle Bert ordered arrive, and we all try a bit of each. I’m open to anything tonight, so I let Jeremy order the entrée for me. Rabbit something.
It strikes me that Mom’s gotten more adventurous here too. Or maybe she always was, and I just never noticed. I must be growing up.
Wine flows with each course. Everything is delicious. We’re waiting for dessert when I realize Mom and Uncle Bert have leaned closer together and are smiling at us. Mom glances at him, and he nods.
“Well,” she says and closes her eyes for a s
econd, “Chelsea …” She grabs her wine glass and drains the last ounce.
“Ohmygod, Mom, what is it?”
“Albert and I are getting married.”
I’m speechless—for a second. “But you just met. I mean, no offense, Uncle Bert, I think you’re awesome. But, Mom, don’t you think it’s a little soon to make a decision like this?” Jeremy lays his hand on my thigh. I turn on him. “Did you know about this?”
“No.”
“Chelsea,” Mom says, “you tell me all the time I should have a life of my own.”
“Yeah, but marriage—”
“Is what adults choose when they find someone they love and want to spend their life with.”
“Yes, but … you don’t really know each other. You can’t love each other already.”
“Yes, they can,” Jeremy says.
I push his hand off my leg. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Seriously?”
“Don’t say that. You don’t get to use that word anymore.”
He sits back and looks at the ceiling.
“We didn’t intend to upset you, Chelsea,” Uncle Bert says.
“We thought you’d be happy for us, sweetie.”
Jeremy pours more wine in my glass, and I down it. No one speaks. I’ve ruined this night. Jeremy fills my glass again. I look at him. He’s got that damned right brow arched, and his eyes are saying plenty. He was right; Mom was keeping me close because she’s lonely. She’s been a widow for almost four years now. And even though I tried, I can’t deny I saw the instant chemistry between her and Uncle Bert. I’m acting like a selfish brat.
Etiquette be damned; I gulp the wine. Then I take a breath, exhale, and face them.
“I’m sorry. Both of you. I am happy for you. I want you to be happy together.” Look at them, beaming at me. I feel like crap for ruining their moment. “So, what happens now?” They look at each other. “I mean, you’re just going to stay here, Mom?”
“No, sweetie.”
“We haven’t worked out the details yet,” Uncle Bert says, “but I’m flying back with you tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be staying in a hotel, of course.”
“Does everyone else know?” Jeremy asks.
“The lord and lady, you mean? Yes. Can’t say your father is overjoyed, but he’ll come around.”
“What problem does he have with my mom?”
“Oh,” he says, “it’s nothing to do with Marie.”
“Money,” Jeremy says. “It’s always about money with him.”
“Well … it’s about the house actually.”
Jeremy frowns. “The house?”
“You do know I’m older than your father?”
“Yes, but—oh.”
“Oh what?” I say.
“Dovewood House actually belongs to me,” Uncle Bert says. “Part of the inheritance.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeremy turn to me, but I keep my face blank. Dovewood House will be my mother’s house. Dovewood. My mother. Does that mean she’ll be Lady Marie? I can’t let Jeremy know I’m thinking any of that or he’ll freak again.
“And you’re going to evict them?” Jeremy says.
My mother laughs. “Of course not, dear. We’ll have the cottage and Albert’s apartment when we’re here, and our house in California.”
Beaming, Uncle Bert takes her hand. “We’ll also be traveling the world, so it makes no sense to disrupt the status quo.”
“Right,” Jeremy says. “And Chelsea and I should be able to afford our own place soon, Marie.”
Uncle Bert leans forward. “That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Why have you never sent your new banking information to James?”
“James?” I say.
“The family accountant,” Jeremy explains and turns back to his uncle. “Why would I do that?”
A mixture of amusement and confusion ripples Uncle Bert’s brows. “The trust. He doesn’t know what to do with your disbursements.”
“I’m sure Dad told him.”
At that response, Uncle Bert looks even more perplexed. “What does it have to do with Gordon?”
“Well … I don’t know how he feels now, but he was perfectly clear about it September last.”
“Clear about what?”
“He disowned me.”
Uncle Bert falls back, shaking his head. “Oh, son, you’ve always taken your father too seriously. Firstly, he’s all bark and no bite. Secondly, although he could disown you in his personal affairs, he doesn’t have the authority to change the terms of the trust. But, most importantly, he would never disown you in any sense. You mean everything to him.”
Jeremy, who had just reached for his wine glass, freezes, staring at it. After a long moment, the corners of his mouth curl a tiny bit. Slowly, he lifts his head, but his eyes keep that faraway look.
“So?” Uncle Bert says. “You’ll contact James?”
Jeremy snaps to. “Yes. I will. Definitely.”
CHAPTER 15
We’ve been home for three days, but we haven’t quite returned to our normal routine. Jeremy’s lying on our bed reading when I rush in with the box from the Notting Hill antique shop. “My dress arrived,” I tell him.
He puts down his book and watches as I get the outer box open and lift out the inner one. I hesitate for a minute, afraid the dress might have lost some of its magic during the trip from England to California. So much of London seems like a dream already. I look at Jeremy; he motions for me to get on with it. I lift the lid and fold back the tissue paper.
One word whooshes out. “Oh.”
Jeremy sits up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “It’s everything I remembered.” I lift it from the box and hold it in front of me as I walk to the full-length mirror. Jeremy gets up to stand behind me. “Is it too beautiful for me?”
He kisses the top of my head. “Nothing is too beautiful for you.”
I roll my eyes.
“Don’t,” he says.
The tone in his voice draws my eyes to his in the mirror.
“Be gracious,” he says. “Accept the gifts I can give you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s roughly one hundred thousand dollars.”
I jerk the dress away from me. “My God. How could you pay that much for a dress?”
“No.” He takes the dress from me and drapes it across the chair beside us. “Not that. You’ve wanted to know about the trust disbursement. Annually, it adds up to a bit more than a hundred thousand.”
“Oh no. I didn’t give the trust a thought. That’s your business.”
Up go the brows. “The ink is barely dry on our open and honest agreement, and you—”
“Okay. Yes. I’ve been wondering.” Suddenly, the amount he said sinks in, and my mouth drops open. “You’re not serious.” Crap. He’ll think I’m too excited about the money. “I mean … whatever.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “Whatever?” He wraps his arms around me. “I expected a little more excitement.”
I squee for all I’m worth.
“That’s more like it.”
“We can afford a place of our own now, right?”
“Well …”
“Not funny, Jeremy.”
“Yes. We’ll move.” He nuzzles my neck.
“Oh, so now I owe you sex?”
He looks at me through the mirror. “You owe me nothing, but I ask you to allow me to give you what small pleasures I can.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re testing dialogue here?” He pretends to be insulted, but he’s done that before so his act doesn’t play with me.
“I no longer write romance, remember?”
“But you do want sex.”
“Do I?” he whispers in my ear, while slipping his hand under my tee.
His hand is warm and firm and smooth against my skin. His fingers slip into my br
a and tease my nipple. I close my eyes.
“Watch,” he whispers. And I do. He lifts my shirt over my head and removes my bra. His hands cup my breasts. He braces his feet and takes the weight of my body as I lean against him. “Lift your hair.”
He runs the tip of his tongue down my neck and across one shoulder as he massages my breasts with the lightest pressure. I gasp when he clamps my nipples between his fingers. And then he releases them, sliding his hands down to unzip my jeans.
“Open your eyes,” he says.
Unaware I’d closed them again, I obey. He spreads his legs wider, lowering his center of gravity, lifting me with his left arm around my waist. My jeans slide down, and I kick them away. His right hand slips into my panties. I hold my breath as his fingers begin their blissful movement. I’m panting when he finally lays me down and gives me almost more pleasure than I can stand—his ultimate “gift” indeed.
Afterward, when we’re lying quietly, drifting, he whispers, “Thank you.”
I open my eyes, expecting to see his grin. But his eyes are soft, a glint of tears shining. “You’re freaking me out,” I say. “Are you not telling me something?”
“I love you.”
I’m just about to smart off when I remember my conversation with Ethan. Jeremy’s not saying those words idly. I brush his hair away from his face and lay my hand on his newly beardless cheek. “And I love you.”
*
Jeremy and I have taken a break from work to spend the day with Gabi and Matt. Jeremy, feeling generous with his newly returned wealth, offered to take us somewhere fabulous for lunch, but it’s raining, and Gabi’s in a mood. So we’re at their place eating tacos on TV trays and watching a rugby game. (Matt and Jeremy have a give-and-take on sports.) Well, actually, Gabi’s only picking at her food … if that.
“Is B.G. giving you fits today?” I ask her.
“A little.” She pushes her food away. Matt reaches over and adds it to his plate.
“I’m going to start a load of laundry.” Gabi gets up and leaves the room.
I finish my taco and follow her to their laundry alcove off the kitchen. She’s leaning over the washer with her land on her lower back.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Gabs?”
She straightens up and starts the water filling. “Yeah. Great.”
I watch her add the detergent and stuff the clothes in. Then she shuts the lid and just stands there. Very still.
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