S'more to Lose

by Beth Merlin

“It’s easy enough for me to transfer to my company’s New York office. I want to be as supportive as possible,” she said.

  I felt like she just sucker punched me in the stomach. In the beginning, Perry had pleaded with me to move to London while he was writing Elizabeth, but I couldn’t leave G. Malone and everything I was trying to build. After years of flailing, I’d just found my way back to solid ground. I’d finally broken through my creative block and was pumping out some of my best designs. I was angry at Perry for assuming his work was somehow more important than my own and naively believing we’d find our way back together after we took time apart. Instead, we imploded.

  Gideon came into the drawing room and announced the house tours would be setting off in a few minutes. He asked us to divide into groups of four and make our way into the entrance hall.

  Annabelle excused herself to return to Perry, and Jamie leaned into me.

  “You okay, kiddo?” he asked.

  “I think I’ll head upstairs,” I said.

  Gideon found his way over to us. He put his hand on top of my shoulder. “There you two are. I know this is uncomfortable for you, so go with the first group and I’ll push Perry and Annabelle over to the third.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “Great,” Gideon repeated and went to find them.

  “What happened to going upstairs?” Jamie asked.

  “You’re right. I don’t want to hurt Gideon. He’s gone to a lot of trouble. I’ll just take the tour and then head off.”

  “Well, I think I’ll go join group two, far away from both you and Perry,” Jamie said. “I actually want to learn about Badgley Hall.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “What?” Jamie asked.

  “You fought me tooth and nail about going to Highclere Castle for the Downton Abbey tour, and now you’re a full-fledged Anglophile.”

  He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “When in Rome…or South Gloucestershire…”

  I joined Group One as they were making their way up the main staircase to some of the bedrooms off the first-floor gallery. The docent took us through the bedrooms no longer in use by the family because of their historical significance. The first and most impressive was the room Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn had supposedly stayed in on their honeymoon tour. The walls were a deep crimson, and the four-poster canopy bed was draped with the most beautiful gossamer fabric. I snapped a picture of it on my phone for the inspiration board Jamie had put together for the royal wedding.

  The docent led us back downstairs while reciting information about the servants’ hall. Gideon had told me before Downton Abbey, nobody was particularly interested in viewing the downstairs quarters of these grand houses. After the airing of the show, it was the most requested tour. Gideon recently oversaw a full historical renovation to bring the kitchen back to its more original state, hoping it would be an additional draw for the house. I knew he was looking forward to showing off his achievement.

  As we filed down the corridor, I could hear someone playing piano on the main floor of the house. I knew immediately it was Perry. Like the Sirens of Greek mythology who lured sailors to nearby shipwrecks with their enchanting music, I found myself called to him. I turned down the hallway and into the music room. Perry was alone, seated at the Baby Grand Steinway, head down, his fingers flying over the keys.

  I slowly tiptoed into the room. “Debussy? Brahams?”

  He stopped playing and looked up at me. “Gershwin, Gigi, always Gershwin.”

  “Seems like sometime soon the world will be saying that about Gillman.”

  He pushed his hair back and out of his eyes. “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do,” I said softly. I leaned down and touched his face. “It’s been a long time since I saw you with your hair and beard this long.”

  “It’s for Dudley—and with the transfer to Broadway, it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to cut it anytime soon.”

  “I like it. Reminds me of when you played The Fiddler at Chinooka.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Chinooka.” Then, as if snapped right back into reality, he said, “Annabelle told me we were going to dinner at her close friend’s home. I didn’t know this was the home until we pulled past the sign for Badgley Hall.”

  I walked to the far window. It looked out onto a large hedge maze that stretched far across the property. Even from this distance, I could see the maze was huge, dense, and complex. I wondered how long anyone had spent lost in it before they found their way to the center and eventually out the other side.

  I turned to face Perry. He was still seated at the bench, his eyes firmly on my face.

  “Back at Chinooka, you pleaded with me to be honest with Alicia about everything that had happened between Joshua and me. You said there’d be no closure for any of us without it. It’s the same now, isn’t it? You need to tell Annabelle who I am, so we can all move on.”

  “Is that what you want? To move on?” He stood up from the bench. “Never mind. The returned engagement ring answered that question for me ages ago.”

  “I just admitted what you were too much of a coward to say. We were done. There was no reason to keep pretending otherwise.”

  “No. You gave up on us,” he growled.

  “You gave up on us. With every unanswered call and each day that passed, you retreated farther and farther into your work. You forgot about the life we were building together, or maybe you decided along the way you wanted a different one. Well, congratulations. Annabelle told me she’s moving to New York to be with you when the show opens on Broadway, so it looks like you two are all set.”

  From the far corner of the room, someone cleared their throat. We both squinted to make out who it was. Gideon emerged from the shadowy doorway and stepped into the moonlit room.

  “I heard voices. I wanted to check to make sure nobody strayed too far from their tour,” Gideon said.

  “Sorry, mate. I saw the piano and couldn’t help myself,” Perry said.

  “It’s fine. We’ll attach a plaque that says, ‘Perry Gillman once played here,’ and we can charge more for the tour of the staterooms.”

  I appreciated Gideon’s attempt to bring some levity to an awkward moment.

  Gideon looked at his watch. “The docents should be wrapping up. I’ll go check on the other guests and let the two of you finish up in here.”

  “Seems like a good guy,” Perry said after Gideon was out of earshot.

  “He is,” I answered.

  “And this place suits you, Princess,” he said, using his provoking nickname for me from when we first met at Chinooka.

  “Princess?”

  “No, I guess you’re right. Countess is probably more appropriate now,” he said, brushing past me as he walked out of the room.

  Later, after the rest of the guests retired for the night, Gideon came to see me. He knocked softly, and I got down off the bed and let him in. He was carrying a small tray with a brandy decanter and two glasses. He set them down on the nightstand.

  “I thought you could use a nightcap.”

  “Yeah? Whatever gave you that idea?” I said with a half-smile.

  He poured brandy into each of the glasses and handed me one. We clinked them together and each took a small sip.

  Gideon took a seat on the bench at the end of the bed, grabbed my hand, and guided me beside him. He pushed my hair behind my shoulders.

  “How you holding up?” he asked.

  “Well, considering my ex-fiancé and his girlfriend are sleeping a few doors down from here, not too bad.”

  “Don’t worry. I put them up on the other side of the house in the East Wing.” He leaned in and whispered, “Rumor has it, it’s haunted.”

  I smiled. “Why are you being so understanding about all this?”

  “If you think it’s easy to sit across the table from the guy who just graced the cover of Rolling Stone magazine and not feel like a massive wanker, it isn’t. But, I like you, and
I think you like me, and if we’re going to have any shot at this, I’ll just have to accept our paths are going to cross with theirs.”

  “Maybe not for too long. Perry’s moving to New York in a few months. So is Annabelle.”

  “New York’s not much bigger than London as far as certain social circles go,” he said.

  “I know that.”

  “Look, the question I asked you earlier tonight. Forget it. There’s no reason to rush. I’m happy just getting to know you better and taking it as slowly as you need me to.”

  “Are you saying this because of what you walked in on with Perry and me?”

  “It’s obvious you still have feelings for him. Maybe it isn’t love, but it’s clear whatever he said tonight hurt you. It’s written all over your face.”

  I looked down, afraid of what else my eyes might give away.

  Gideon caressed my cheek, sliding his hand down so it cupped my chin. He pulled my face toward him and leaned up to kiss my forehead.

  “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he whispered and left to go back to his own room.

  I slid down into the big four-poster bed and stared up at the green crushed velvet canopy.

  I closed my eyes and swore I could hear Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue coming from the salon, its evocative melody creeping up the grand staircase and into my room.

  Gideon was wrong. It wasn’t just the East Wing that was haunted. This whole house was full of ghosts.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, all my bags were packed and ready to go before the sun was even up. I knocked on Jamie’s door, hoping he’d be awake and we could make our apologies and leave before breakfast. I’d make my excuses to Gideon later, but for now, it was better to get as far away from Perry as possible. I knocked a few times, but Jamie didn’t answer. I tiptoed into the room. Jamie was strewn across the bed, wearing nothing but boxer briefs. I tapped his shoulder. He grunted, rolled over, and burrowed deeper into the bed.

  “Jamie,” I whispered.

  “Go away,” he muffled through a pillow.

  “I think we should get going back to London,” I said.

  He lifted his head and looked at the clock on the fireplace mantle. “It’s six fifteen. Go away.”

  “We’ll beat all the city traffic if we leave now.”

  He reached over to the nightstand and tossed a set of keys at me. “Drive yourself then. I’ll take the train or catch a ride with someone later,” he said.

  I tossed them back at him. “You know I don’t drive.”

  He grudgingly sat up and rubbed his eyes. “You can drive, you just don’t like to. There’s a difference. What’s wrong?”

  I sat down on the end of the bed. “Gideon has a full day of activities planned for everyone. Everyone.”

  “Everyone? So, Perry and Annabelle are sticking around?”

  “I was too afraid to ask Gideon. I didn’t want him to think I care.”

  “But obviously you do care.”

  “Only because Annabelle doesn’t know anything about our past. The more time we all spend together the more likely it is the truth is going to come out and then what?”

  “Exactly and then what?” Jamie repeated back to me. “Christ, Gi, if you say something now it’s going to look like you and Perry conspired to keep it a secret. You have to find a time and way to talk to Victoria about all this. I can’t even imagine the shitstorm if the press gets wind of this before you’ve had a chance to come clean.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “You better. For both our sakes.”

  Jamie laid back down and rolled onto his side. I crawled into bed beside him. He handed me a pillow and I propped it underneath my head.

  “Gideon asked me to be his girlfriend. I told him I needed some time to think about it.”

  “He’s a good-looking, well-mannered member of the British aristocracy and he really likes you. What’s to think about?

  “I don’t mean his pedigree. If he didn’t have a title. If we weren’t waking up in his…” I looked around before I finished my sentence. “Castle.”

  Jamie smirked and rolled back over to face me. “If you want to go back to London, I’ll take you to the station later, but I think you should stay. Get to know Gideon better. Figure out how to answer his question.”

  I kissed Jamie on his forehead. “You’re an incredible friend. You’re going to be a wonderful father.”

  “I appreciate that. Now get out of my bed and my room. I need my beauty rest.”

  I left Jamie and went back to my room for my sketchbook before making my way outside to the gardens. The morning fog had just lifted, revealing meandering stone paths, bright pockets of flowers, and deep green lawns. I sat down on a wrought iron bench to take in the breathtaking scenery. There was so much to be inspired by—the grand house, the exquisite gardens, the rolling countryside—yet when I put pencil to paper, nothing.

  I closed my eyes and couldn’t help but imagine Victoria Ellicott standing at the back of Westminster Abbey, waiting to meet Prince Alexander at the altar. Seated along the aisles were foreign royals, celebrities, politicians, diplomats, family, and friends, all of them anxiously anticipating the bride in her show-stopping gown. The whole world gathered outside the church, clamoring to get a photograph of the iconic dress as Victoria emerged from the church an actual princess.

  How could any design possibly measure up to the significance of that moment?

  I tucked the pencil back into the sketchbook and leaned back to await a stroke of brilliance. Anything to pull me out of my block.

  “Let’s have a look,” said a voice from above me.

  Perry walked around the bench and sat down beside me. He was holding a composition notebook and pencil.

  “What are you doing up this early?”

  “I have some rewrites to do for when the show moves to Broadway. Apparently, the producers think I need to fill in more of the blanks for American audiences.”

  His dark, curly hair was held back with a blue bandanna, and he was wearing a beat-up T-shirt with the Elizabeth logo. He looked just like he had when I met him that first day at Chinooka, even down to the army-green cargo shorts. My breath caught in my throat. It was one thing to keep running into him in formal settings, both of us dressed to the nines, pretending to fit into our posh surroundings. It was quite another to see him like this, stripped of all formality. He was the Perry I fell in love with in the middle of the Poconos woods.

  I laid my sketchbook on the ground. “Maybe you’ll have better luck. I’m in a bit of designer’s block. I thought coming out here might help.”

  He motioned to the house and hedge maze. “Something about this view has to be inspiring.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure I connect with it. Who lives like this?”

  “Your boyfriend,” he said flatly.

  “You forget, I’ve been to your girlfriend’s house. The views from there aren’t half bad. Anyway, he isn’t my boyfriend.”

  “No?”

  My jaw clenched. “Even if he was, we’re long past you having the right to care.”

  I bent to pick the sketch pad off the ground. I hugged it close to my body and turned from Perry.

  He stood up, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Of course, I care.”

  That was rich coming from the man who’d unloaded our relationship woes in the New York Times. I spun on my heels and looked him straight in the eye.

  “‘Some romances are intense and wonderful but simply doomed from the start.’ I’m paraphrasing a bit, but I think that was the quote you gave the Times about us, right?”

  “Christ, Gigi, you read that?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s the New York Times, Perry. Everyone read it. I especially appreciated having my mother quote it back to me verbatim.”

  “When I spoke to the reporter, I wasn’t thinking about you or your mother. I wasn’t thinking at all.”

 
; I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s how you feel. I only wish you’d have shared it with me before the rest of the world—would’ve saved us both a lot of heartache.”

  “Elizabeth got so big so fast. I know I haven’t handled all of it well.” He rubbed the soft stubble on his face. “You know what I wish sometimes? That I could disappear back to Chinooka for the summer. That’s crazy, right? I have everything I ever wanted…” His voice trailed off.

  Almost immediately, he realized the callousness of his words and reached out to comfort me. I took two steps away from where he stood.

  “That summer at Chinooka feels like a dream to me now,” I said softly. “One of those amazing, once-every-so-often dreams where everything goes right and you wake up a new person. A few hours later, you can’t even recall most of the dream anymore. But you hold onto that feeling as long as you can, savoring the little bits you do remember until eventually those fade away too and you’re happy just to have had the dream at all. Perry, why haven’t you told Annabelle about us? Really?”

  “I should’ve. When we met, I told her I’d just come out of a long-term relationship, but I didn’t tell her much beyond that and Annabelle never asked.” Perry took two steps toward me and took hold of my hands. “That night in the club I panicked. I knew you were in the running to design Victoria’s gown and I didn’t want our past to mess it up for you.”

  I didn’t know who to believe. The Perry who’d been by my side for four years cheering me on through each professional accomplishment. My unofficial collaborator, so sure of my talent and future success, he left no room for doubt. Or, the Perry who’d walked away from our partnership, convinced he’d be better off on his own.

  I searched Perry’s deep brown eyes for answers to the dozens of questions that had tortured me since we broke off our engagement. He closed his eyes and then as if forgetting where we were and the implications should we be spotted, Perry grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me against his broad chest. I struggled against his hold, afraid of feeling too at ease in it. He whispered my name and I all but crumpled in his arms. He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me hard. His beard grated against my skin, prickly and soft all at once—like Perry. I gripped his T-shirt in my hands as he drew me even closer.