Club Abbott: The Wedding (Club Abbott Series #3)

by Hazel Kelly

  “I completely agree.”

  “But I’ll do all the table settings white so there’s kind of a blanket of snow vibe if that makes sense.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want some of this?” Ella asked, sliding her half eaten carrot cake in my direction. “I usually eat the whole thing in two bites, but ever since Will proposed my appetite has been shit.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  Her eyes dropped to my naked left hand.

  “Oh I didn’t mean-” I pulled my hand back into my lap. “Ben hasn’t asked me to marry him or anything. I just used to be engaged.”

  Her brown eyes grew wide. “Can I ask what happened?”

  I scrunched my face. “It’s not a very romantic story for a wedding discussion.”

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.” She leaned back in her seat. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s okay.” I figured I’d rather she heard it from me than Ben. “I caught him with someone else.”

  Her face dropped.

  “In my bed at my apartment.”

  “Oh god, Carrie. I’m so sorry.”

  I shrugged. “Not as sorry as I’d be if I married him.”

  She shook her head. “That’s disgusting.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  She sighed. “At least you don’t have to worry about that with Ben.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Sorry?”

  “He’s loyal to a fault.”

  I felt a pinch in my heart.

  “Plus, he knows what it’s like to be on the other end of that so he would never do it to somebody else.”

  “He does?”

  She craned her neck back. “Oh crap. I assumed he would’ve told you that.”

  “He didn’t. Do you know what happened?”

  “Some girl he dated in England. Thought she was the one, apparently, until his friends saw her sucking face with some guy at a wine tasting.”

  “Shit.”

  She nodded. “You’re the first girl he’s dated seriously in years.”

  I swallowed. “I didn’t realize.”

  She rolled the thin chain around her neck between her fingers. “As far as I know anyway.”

  Why wouldn’t he tell me that?

  “Anyway, don’t tell him I told you that since he probably wanted to tell you himself-”

  “Sure,” I said.

  She took a sip of coffee.

  “Is there anything else I should know about him that he wouldn’t have told me?” I asked, unable to help myself.

  “Nothing you haven’t probably already figured out.”

  “Try me,” I said, lifting my coffee to my lips.

  She took a big breath. “Well, he’s smarter than he lets on. And despite his sometimes obnoxious bravado, he’s actually more humble than most people realize.”

  I laughed. “Now that is a shock.”

  “He’s one of those people that’s good at everything he tries,” she said. “And he’ll try just about anything.”

  I pursed my lips, thinking of the way he made me melt around him.

  “But he forgets that not everything comes as easily to the rest of us.”

  “Must be hard being so handsome and talented.”

  She nodded. “I know, right?”

  I tore a corner off her cake and popped it in my mouth, figuring if I didn’t have to wear a white dress, I might as well live a little.

  “How did you guys meet anyway?”

  I swallowed the sweet bite of cake and licked my teeth. “I’m doing the interior design for his club.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s so like Ben to mix work with pleasure.”

  “Is it?”

  She nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. I used to think that was the worst idea ever, but I love working with Will now. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I wondered what it would be like if Ben’s feelings for me were real and we got to work together all the time. I could imagine how he might pull me into his big arms in the middle of the day and kiss me…

  “So what if we used the snowflakes people sent in with their rsvp cards as their place cards at the reception.”

  I squinted. “That’s not bad.”

  “Or I was thinking we could hang them from the ceiling in the hallway so people can admire them as they make their way to the party.”

  “I like that, too,” I said. “But I was thinking you could turn them into favors.”

  She leaned an ear towards me. “Go on.”

  “I mean, it’s the most expensive option for sure but-”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry about that. Where there’s a Will, there’s a way- if you know what I mean.”

  “I do, yeah. The budget is clearly Ben’s last concern when it comes to fitting out the club.”

  “No surprise there,” she said, shaking her head. “Just as well they can make it cause they sure can spend it.”

  “Apparently.”

  “So what’s your idea?”

  “It might need tweaking, but here’s the gist,” I said, crossing my legs. “I was thinking you could get the snowflakes cast in glass or something and have your and Will’s names etched in gold calligraphy on one side with the date. Then you could attach a ribbon to each one so every guest can take home a souvenir Christmas ornament that’s as unique as they are.”

  Her hands went to her head. “I love that!”

  I smiled “Yeah?”

  Her head dropped back. “That is so clever and sweet.”

  “I’m pleased I could help.”

  “You really have,” she said. “That’s going to go down so well.”

  I felt a warm burst in my chest. She sure knew how to make people feel good. No wonder Will put a ring on it. She was so pleasant I might’ve married her myself if she weren’t already spoken for. “Well, please don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

  “Actually, there is one more thing.”

  “Shoot.”

  “One of the girls I always hoped would be a bridesmaid for me is, like, the most pregnant woman you’ve ever seen right now.”

  I laughed. “If she’s as pregnant as the woman I’m picturing, you’d need a crane to move her.”

  Ella nodded. “Not far off. Anyway, she’s literally due the day of the wedding, and I was totally up for having her in the bridal party, but she basically told me in no uncertain terms that she found the mere thought of being a bridesmaid right now so stressful she feared it might induce her labor.”

  “Oh god.”

  “So I was wondering if you might be comfortable stepping in?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Sorry- what?”

  She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “Would you be one of my bridesmaids?”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I know we don’t know each other very well, but if you’re dating Ben, you’re practically family.”

  I swallowed.

  “Plus, there’s no one I can ask at this point without pissing someone else off, ya know, and I don’t want my day to be overshadowed by catty family drama.”

  I pursed my lips.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Please, Carrie.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m so sure. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

  I sighed. “Okay then.” Why the hell not?

  Chapter 6: Ben

  I’d just spent a long hot shower thinking about Carrie’s sweet snatch when Christophe knocked on the door.

  “Fuck off,” I said. “I’ll be out in a second.”

  “You have a visitor.”

  I stepped in front of the steamed up mirror and towel dried my hair with gusto.

  “Did you hear me?”

  I groaned and wrapped the towel around my waist. Then I cracked the door open, releasing a burst of steam into the hallway. “Who the hell is it?”

  “Your mom.”

  “Tell her to fuck
off.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Did you get that out of your system? Cause I’m obviously not saying that to your mom.”

  I dropped my head against the wall beside the door frame. “What does she want?”

  His eyes shifted back and forth. “Probably to see you, but if you want me to entertain her for a while-”

  “Don’t even think it.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Anyway, I’ll offer her a drink and tell her you’ll be out in a sec.”

  I closed the door but kept my head against the wall. I didn’t have anything to say to her. She was on my shit list, and I wanted her to stay there until I knew what my next move was.

  After all, if she wanted to blow up my phone all night and day and fill Will’s inbox with psychobabble, that was her problem, not mine. I had enough going on without trying to deal with my very real mommy issues right now.

  I leaned my hands on the sink and took a deep breath, allowing myself to come to terms with the fact that avoiding her was no longer a viable strategy. But I would have to compose myself so I didn’t say anything nasty.

  At the end of the day, she was still my mom. I loved her. She raised me. I just never had any idea that the parade of boyfriends she had during my teenage years was because she couldn’t keep her legs together. I thought that was just what normal divorced women did if they still had a decent figure.

  I told myself it could’ve been worse. That she could’ve been a drinker or a lesbian. Not that I was a homophobe, but my friends made enough jokes about her looks that her batting for the other team would’ve only fueled their wet dreams more.

  But I didn’t know at the time that she’d cheated on my dad. And I was confused by how much that new knowledge had rocked me. It’s not like I thought I was the only kid whose parents were divorced, but I always thought it was Will’s neglect that made them grow apart, that they just didn’t love each other anymore.

  I never thought my mother had done the last thing a respectable mom was ever supposed to do: tear her family apart by whoring herself out.

  Honestly, how could I ever look at her the same way again?

  The thought alone was enough to turn my stomach and make me regret how quickly I ate that Chipotle after my workout.

  I sighed.

  She may have been a homewrecker, but she was nothing if not persistent. And I had no choice now but to face her.

  I pulled my Abbott Hotel robe off the hook on the door and slipped it on. Then I walked down the hall and into the kitchen.

  She was sitting on the wraparound couch with a glass of ice water beside an untouched can of Pringles.

  I made a mental note to work on Christophe’s hosting skills. If anything, the Pringles were more than she deserved.

  She looked up and forced a toothless smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said, walking across the cold kitchen tiles and leaning against the end of the counter. “You should’ve called.”

  “I did,” she said, crossing her legs. “At least fifty times.”

  I folded my arms. “Oh right. In that case, you should’ve taken a hint.”

  She cocked her head. “We have to talk about this, Ben. After all I’ve done for you, the least you can do is let me explain.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh you came to explain? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  “Please sit down,” she said, her blue eyes turned down at the corners.

  “That’s alright. I’ve been sitting all day,” I lied. In reality, I just wanted her to be uncomfortable, even though it was petty and childish and I’d never be able to make her as uncomfortable as she’d made me.

  She sighed.

  “I’m listening.”

  She clasped her hands together. “During the Abbott’s European expansion, I spent a lot of nights alone.”

  “You mean with me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I was with you, but I was also an ocean apart from the man who was supposed to be enjoying you with me.”

  I cocked my head. “The same man who was responsible for putting food on our table?”

  “Yes.”

  “And for keeping you draped in the fine things to which you so quickly became accustomed when you got together?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who you promised to have and to hold through all the tough times and the lonely nights you knew you’d have to face if you married a workaholic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great,” I said. “Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  She swallowed. “Anyway, when I went with him to Dubai, I went a little wild because you were with your grandparents, and it was the first time in years that I felt like I could just be myself for two seconds. And I took too much sun and had a little too much to drink by the pool, and then I made a terrible mistake.”

  I shook my head. “Did you practice this story? Cause it’s really not inducing the sympathy in me that I feel like you should be going for.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “So at what point did you realize you’d fucked everything up-”

  “Please watch your language.”

  I laughed. “My language offends you, does it? I would’ve thought your tolerance for offense was much higher all things considered.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Seriously, though, at what point did you realize you’d screwed everything up? Was it before or after the scrawny brown kid who probably wasn’t even old enough to shave his patchy mustache was inside you?”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “Well?”

  “That’s entirely unfair.”

  “No, Mom. What’s unfair is telling your kid that his dad doesn’t give a shit about being there for him when, in actual fact, you were the one in the dog house the whole time.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know.”

  “What I did was wrong. I know that.” She looked down at her hands. “And there’s not a day that goes by that I haven’t had to pay for that mistake.”

  I squinted at her. “See I don’t believe that. I don’t think you’ve had to pay for anything. Not since you married Will. I think he’s had to pay through the nose, and I’ve certainly had some unnecessary heartache because of your actions, but I don’t think you’ve paid for shit.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “Me too.”

  “I came here to apologize, Ben. But I can’t go back and do things differently. The best I can hope for now is to patch things up with you.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Did it really never occur to you that I might be pissed when I found out the truth?”

  “I was a young mother. The best I could do was take it one day at a time.”

  “Yeah, about that-”

  “About what?”

  “About you being a young mother.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “Did you get pregnant on purpose just so Will would marry you?”

  “Why are you asking me that?”

  I shrugged. “Cause I’m curious. You said you came here to tell the truth, and seeing as how I’m suddenly unsure of exactly what you’re capable of-”

  “It really hurts that you would ask me that.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But not as bad as it hurts that you didn’t just say no.”

  She stood up and walked over to me.

  I didn’t move, and I pushed the idea that hugging her would make it better to the back of my mind. Cause surely that only worked before. When her hugs meant something. When I didn’t know she’d used her arms to hold men who weren’t her fucking husband while they did her up against the wall.

  “What can I say to convince you that I’m sorry?”

  “Oh I know you’re sorry.”

  She laid a hand on my shoulder.

  I shrugged it off.

  “What can I say to get you to forgive me?”

  “Were their others?” I asked, search
ing her lying eyes.

  “No.”

  “I want to believe that, but maybe you just learned from failing the last question.”

  “Believe what you want,” she said. “But I loved your father.”

  “Funny how you showed it.”

  “And I’ve always loved you, too.”

  “Well I gotta be honest, Mom. I’m not feeling the love for you right now.”

  Her lips formed a straight line.

  “So I know it’s not what you want to hear, but the best thing you can do for us is give me some goddamned space.”

  Chapter 7: Carrie

  Having already eaten the tiny cookies that came with my milkshake, I was eyeing the ones on Brook’s straw when she walked in.

  “Hey,” she said, pulling her scarf off as she made her way over.

  I pushed my wooden chair back and stood up. “Hi.”

  She pressed her cheek to mine and unbuttoned her coat. “I’m so glad you called.”

  I shrugged. “I figured we were overdue for lunch.”

  She hung her coat on the back of her chair and looked down at the table. “You already got my sandwich?”

  “And your milkshake.”

  “Thanks,” she said, sitting down. “I know it was my treat this time, but I’ll get you next time.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, scooting my chair in. “This isn’t exactly The Ritz.”

  “Whatever,” she said, sliding one of the butter cookies I’d resisted off her straw. “If the Ritz did sandwiches half as good as this place, I’d actually eat there.”

  “Except even if the sandwiches were better, they’d have to be smaller to fit on those tiered plates.”

  She scrunched her nose. “That simply wouldn’t do.” She slid the second cookie off her straw. “Plus, they probably wouldn’t even let homeboy in,” she added, nodding towards the long haired man strumming the guitar on a short stage in the corner.

  “No.” I shook my head. “He doesn’t look like Ritz material.”

  “Sometimes I touch myself and think about that guy.”

  I raised my eyebrows and looked back at him. The sexiest thing about him was the fact that he could play the guitar.

  Then again, if the whole lanky haired Jesus look did it for you, he would be perfect fantasy material. But his body looked lean like Simon’s, and as a result, left me feeling repulsed. “Do you know him?”