“Like a Girl Guide.”
“Something like that.”
***
Not too much later, the town car pulled up in front of my apartment building. “Shall I have the driver walk you up?” Just as I was about to rage against this, he started to laugh. “You’re going to take a lot of convincing, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” I grabbed my briefcase and slid out the door. Then I ducked my head back inside and smiled. “It was surreal but nice.”
“Notting Hill! What is it with bloody Hugh Grant?”
“I like him!”
Upon entering the apartment, I saw light shining from under Taylor’s bedroom door. I was about to knock when I heard Marcus laugh on the other side. Quickly, I redirected myself to my bedroom, closed the door, and turned on the television.
***
I woke to the ringing of the phone. “Hello,” I managed to croak out.
“Hello, my love. How was your date?” Liam teased.
“Hello! I have to whisper, because he’s still asleep.” Liam belted out a loud laugh. God, I missed him. First, I apologized for not calling when I got in, but it had been too late. Then I filled him in on all the details of my conversation with Des.
“So, it’s all over. You feel well and truly vindicated?”
After contemplating this for a moment, I announced myself to be completely done with the issue.
“Good. Now, tell me when you’re coming home to my bed.”
“Oh, that reminds me, Marcus is here, in Taylor’s bed! Good news, I hope. We have to find a way to get him to London. I know, if he could find work there, they’d sort it all out and live happily ever after.”
“That would be great for us all. In any case, any news on when you’ll be back?”
I’d been back in New York for nine days at that point. Faith had run us ragged every day we’d been there and hadn’t said a word as to when we could return to London.
“No clue. Chances are she’ll tell me an hour before the plane leaves. I’ll let you know the moment I know.” I switched the subject and told Liam about Tiziana and Ted.
“What are you going to do?”
“Why does everyone think it’s my job to do something? She owes me an apology.”
“I believe she’s already apologized, twice.” He sounded irritated.
Not wanting to have our first fight over the phone, I quickly changed tactics. It didn’t take much effort, and, as a result, we spent the next half hour helping each other start the day in a pleasant way.
After his breathing returned to a normal pace, he proclaimed, “Charlotte, that was spectacular! You’ve really picked up a knack for phone sex. Even if we manage to live in the same country, we’re still going to have phone sex.” Then, without missing a beat, he added, “Speaking of phones, call Tiziana.”
“I love you, Liam. I have to go.”
“Coward.”
“Bye.” I quickly hung up.
I spent the day running around in circles, doing Faith’s bidding, and finally encountering Taylor as she stepped out of her mother’s inner sanctum.
“How did it go last night?” I held onto her elbow and dragged her down the hallway.
“God, I love him. What am I going to do?” She sounded confused.
“Beg him to move to London with you. Convince him that you can support the both of you while he looks for a job. Beg your mother to hire him. Whatever it takes.”
She stopped in her four-inch-heel tracks, looked me in the eye intently, and then marched back to her mother’s office. I walked to my own office with a big smile on my face.
***
When I got home from work, I found Taylor lounging next to Marcus on the sofa. Her long legs were curled up on his lap. I was about to dash discreetly down the hallway when she jumped up in excitement. “Good news! We’re going to London tomorrow, and Marcus is heading over next week!” We jumped up and down together, squealing like little girls.
While sitting next to him, she explained how she had marched into her mother’s office and announced that she had more than proven her value to Faith Clarkson International and that she wanted recognition for her work both financially and professionally. She also wanted a permanent position in London. In a complete twist, it turned out that it was Faith’s hope that, in making Taylor return to New York, she and Marcus would work things out.
“She told me that just because people thought she was a cold-hearted bitch didn’t mean she liked to see her daughter brokenhearted.” Taylor beamed. “So, Marcus has agreed to be a kept man until he can find a job!” We squealed like little girls again.
I gave him a hug and gushed, “Oh, Marcus, I’m so happy. Liam will be thrilled. Oh! I have to call him. He won’t mind me waking him up!”
I dashed down the hallway, looked at the clock, and realized it was 1:00 a.m. I dialed Liam’s number.
“Hello?” he growled into the phone.
“Hello, yourself. Are you alone?”
He sighed. “No, let me tell the little bitch to get her clothes on and go home.” I laughed loudly.
“Guess what? Marcus and Taylor are moving to London. He’s willing to be a kept man until he can find a job.”
He responded happily to the great news with a ‘whoop’ that could have awoken a few neighbors. “What about you? Any news on when you get to come home?”
“Well, I could come back tomorrow, but I need to make a detour to Rome. My plan is to return on the weekend. I’ll let you know when I have the flights finalized.” I hoped his faith in me had been restored.
“Sounds like an excellent plan. But I’d like you to come to Ireland for the weekend, if you can.” He sounded serious.
Assuring him that there was nothing I wanted more, we switched to talking about my trip to Rome, mostly about my being nervous at seeing Tiziana. “Don’t be nervous. She’ll be thrilled to see you.” He was so calming.
Chapter Twenty-One
TWELVE SHORT HOURS LATER, I found myself on a plane heading to Italy. Exhausted, I knew it would take little effort to fall sound asleep. I had run around like a mad woman, packing a few extra suitcases with the clothes I would need for the fall. My hope was that I wouldn’t be returning to New York before the holidays. Before leaving for the airport, Taylor and I spoke briefly about packing up the contents of the apartment, but when that became teary, we deferred the discussion until we were in London, where nothing would ever be sad.
I dropped my luggage off at the hotel and quickly freshened up before making a quick call to Liam to let him know where I was and what was happening.
“Buona fortuna,” he offered.
When I called Tiziana’s office, I deduced from her secretary that she had taken an extended leave from work. I then called her parents’ home, the only other number I had. With all the drama that can be afforded an Italian mama, her mother told me that her Tiziana was too distraught to work. However, she could strong-arm her into coming over for dinner that evening, if it would be helpful.
I arranged for a car to take me to Tiziana’s family house in the Villa Borghese area. There, Alessandro stood sentinel outside the front door, waiting for me. In truth, I suspected he was really taking an opportunity to smoke a cigarette away from his watchful mother’s eyes. He kissed me on each cheek and greeted me in broken English while gesticulating wildly. “Ciao, bella! We’re most happy you here! Our only hope. Finally, all the drama can stop, and we can get back to making the plans for the wedding.”
“Does she know I’m here?”
“Sí, and she’s very nervous. I’ll walk you to her. She’s waiting in the giardino.” He stubbed out the cigarette with the toe of his shoe.
We passed through the beautiful, winding house to an enclosed back garden. Italian cypress and pine trees looked like sculptures against the darkening sky. Warm light from the house glowed on the ancient stone and lit up fragrant flowers in pots scattered around the patio.
The garden seemed to echo Tiziana’s sensuality.
There she sat beside a table ladened with a jug of water, a bottle of prosecco, two glasses, and what looked like a tray of antipasti. While my brain raced in turmoil, wondering what to say, my stomach registered its complaints at going unfed.
I slowly walked toward her, not really certain what I should say. I looked in her big, brown eyes; they instantly dissolved into tears. “Bella,” she managed to say, and then I rushed to her and gave her a hug.
“Silly girl. Postponing your wedding over something so silly. Everything is fine, it’s fine.” I reached for a napkin that lay on the table and handed it to her to mop her face, then smoothed her hair and continued to murmur comforting words.
Chapter Twenty-Two
TWO DAYS LATER, I landed at the airport in Dublin, a bit weary of travel but thrilled to see Liam. It had taken twelve days, thousands of miles, three countries, and two momentous conversations to get me there. I walked into the arrivals lounge and saw him waiting for me. As before, he descended on me with a sense of hunger and ownership, and I lunged right back at him.
“Been taking the penicillin?” I asked when I came up for air.
“What? Why?”
“’Cause you slept with that floozy, and, after everything that’s happened, I don’t need any STDs.”
While I was speaking, I could see the light dawn in his eyes. “Yes! For good measure, I went to the see the doctor on St. Stephens Street, bared my arse, and took a major dose. So there’s nothing to worry about.” He pressed his answer against my lips.
When we arrived at his house, he led me straight to the bedroom. “Not to be unkind, but you look like you could use a week’s worth of sleep.”
“You’re just trying to get me out of my clothes.”
“Nope! Take off what you need to be comfy. We’re taking a nap.” He pulled at my shoes and I gratefully gave in.
***
I woke up from the much-needed nap and set about adjusting my brain to where I was. The other side of the bed felt cool to the touch. Liam must have been up for a while. Late afternoon light shone on the brick wall opposite the bed, and the shadows cast by the window blinds directed my attention to a bedside table. On it was a lamp and a book. I picked up the latest detective novel by a well-known author and saw two postcards poking out from the same page. One was a black and white photo of New York City’s skyline at dusk; the other, a similar photograph of London.
Staring at them, I began to realize how completely the complications of my job and the drama of Des and Tiziana had affected my time with Liam. We had had many great days together, but there had always been background tension.
I had the sudden realization that the sense of sadness I had felt for so long was gone. My stomach held no knots; it was unfurled from its clenched state. Lying in his bed, I felt all the calm and ease with the world that had evaded me for so long.
I had lain there quietly, thinking for some time, when Liam softly walked into the room and realized I was awake. “All right?”
“Perfect.”
He pointed to the postcards I held in my hand. “Silly, I know. The first and last thing I see every day.”
“Thank you.” I sighed. Not trying to stop them, tears welled up in my eyes and slid down my cheeks. He got in bed, pulled the covers up around us, and gathered me to him. A tissue materialized from somewhere, and, while mopping me up, he whispered, “It’s been a hell of a few weeks.”
“It’s been a hell of a year.” The remaining deep shudders of stress rippled through me. We clung to each other for quite some time in absolute silence, just still and quiet. I felt peace wash over me.
The silence was finally broken when he said, “I’m hoping you’re happy about this... My friends are wanting to meet you this time, so I said we’d meet them down at the pub later. Is that okay?”
“Perfect.”
That evening, I found myself in a neighborhood pub surrounded by hordes of people who greeted Liam and me. Michael and his parents showed up at some point, and I found myself sitting at a little table, chatting away with them. It had taken some effort to put aside the fact that they had seen Liam put his hand up my dress. I was relieved that Michael didn’t see fit to remind us all.
“Your father and I need to go,” Niamh said. “We’re getting too old for all of this.”
“Speak for yourself, woman!” Eamonn declared.
“Well, I’ll be speaking for you. You’re the one who’ll be useless tomorrow if you stay much longer.” She shared Liam’s determination in her eyes.
We stayed for another drink and then I, too, had to beg off. I was physically and emotionally finished. Saying our goodbyes, we promised to meet up again soon with several of his friends.
“Great friends,” I said while we walked back to his place. “We need to hook Marian and Kathleen up with a few of them. Wouldn’t it be great?” Liam rolled his eyes.
***
The next day, we woke up in the early afternoon. I threw on a soft, drapey cover-up while Liam pulled on sweatpants before going to the kitchen to explore. He was prepared with a load of supplies this time. I was soon throwing eggs and slices of bacon into pans, and he took over making coffee and toast. My stomach rumbled: I was almost faint from the smell of the food for the second time in just a few days.
I sat at the table, gobbling down every morsel on my plate, when Liam brought over the coffee pot to refill my cup. Returning to the table, he watched in amusement as I used a piece of toast to round up remnants of egg. He leaned his chair back on its legs and said, oh-so-casually, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and, seeing that you’re in favor of Marcus being a kept man, how would you feel about it for yourself?”
“Kept men? What are you talking about?” I was completely confused.
He coughed uncomfortably into his fist, looking uncertain. “Charlotte, what I’m saying is this. I want to marry you. Now. Today. I want to eat breakfast with you every day. I don’t want to stare at postcards at night and wonder how you are, where you are, what you’re doing. I want to stare into your eyes and know. I want to have a home with you. If I were to pack the lot up and move to London, would it bother you if I didn’t have a job lined up? Is that a financial option?”
Taking a deep breath, I carried my dishes to the sink, then looked through the window at the street scene below for a moment. “Who would we ask?”
“What do you mean who would we ask?” He was standing right behind me. His hands came to rest on my shoulders, his voice hopeful. He spun me around gently.
“Who would we ask to be witnesses?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE DAY HAD finally dawned. It was seven months later than planned, but it was Tiziana and Ted’s wedding day.
Liam and I drifted slowly around the dance floor. A wooden platform was in the center of a large, manicured lawn in the center of a garden adjacent to an ancient Italian castle. The perfume of summer flowers hung on humid night air, and the twinkle of the stars above us accentuated the romantic setting Tiziana had created for her wedding.
“You have to hand it to them, they know how to throw a party,” Liam whispered loudly in my ear over the band’s lead singer, Bono.
I nodded, seeing no real purpose in talking.
Liam led me to a vacant table in a quiet corner of the garden. While I settled into the chair, he ran his lips along my mostly naked shoulder. With a kiss to my cleavage, he said, “Be right back!” and went off in search of cold drinks, leaving me a few minutes of solitude before he returned with what appeared to be beer for him and a large glass of sparkling something for me. Behind him was a familiar crowd.
“My feet are killing me. Next time one of you gets married, remind me to wear sensible shoes,” Marian complained.
“You don’t get the boy by wearing sensible shoes!” I reminded her.
“True, very true.” She sighed, pulling off a golden Versace sandal to massage her foot.
Des dragged up a chair and said to me, “You look
heavenly.”
“Notting Hill,” I answered immediately.
Over the prior year, Des had become a familiar face in our crowd. Not only was he the nice guy Gemma claimed him to be, I was genuinely pleased to learn he could take as well as he gave. He had a rather ribald sense of humor. The first time he told a fart joke, I nearly wet myself.
“No, this time I mean it! You do,” he repeated kindly.
“Well, that’s one way of looking at it. I’m almost as round as I am tall.” I plucked the empire waist away from my ever-expanding abdomen.
“She does look heavenly, Des,” Ted pitched in, having joined the group. “Like a Grecian goddess! Well done, Liam!”
“I don’t remember seeing any drawings of Aphrodite looking like a… Well, whatever. Why is it that men always get the credit? It isn’t like his sperm did the job alone!”
Hillary didn’t flinch. Clearly being involved with Michael had desensitized her. A year before, the discussion of sperm at a wedding reception would have caused her to go catatonic.
Seeking out her groom, the blushing bride joined us. Tiziana glowed with excitement. She had dressed us all in floor-length gowns in the palest of pale gold, each unique in subtle ways that benefitted our various assets. She herself wore a stunning gown made of Mikado silk designed by an up-and-coming Italian designer. A diamond tiara glimmered from within the confines of her intricately woven hair.
“A summer wedding, isn’t it beautiful?” Her voice had a melodious, joyful ring to it. In a more conspiratorial voice, she said, “Don’t tell my Mama she was right. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Clearly sharing her happiness, Ted gave her a long, passionate kiss, which was followed by the appropriate rude remarks from the rest of us.
A waiter, dapperly attired, arrived bearing a tray of cocktails. They looked delicious. I turned sad puppy-eyes to Tiziana. “What are those?”
She looked guilty. “A Sbagliato.”
I knew she was keeping her answer short on purpose.
“Which is?” I prompted.
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