Deliciously British

by Scarlett Avery

  “When you say you had a magical weekend, should I assume that a certain British gentleman was involved?” She bypasses the whole ‘I’m having a great day’ part. “One I hope to meet soon,” she adds. Even though we’re not on a video chat, I can just imagine her expression.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Momma,” I say in a heavy Southern accent, doing my best to sound as innocent as possible.

  “Oh, don’t play coy with me, Delilah Belle Babcock,” she says in a motherly tone.

  “Okay, okay, I surrender.” I lift my left hand in the air like I’m capitulating. “Yes, a Brit charmer is at the center of my story.” There’s no way I’ll ever forget this weekend for as long as I live. Even though Xander and Ethan asked me to be their girlfriend—and I couldn’t be happier—I’m not sure where things will lead between the three of us once this contract ends. There’s no point in shaking my mother’s unflappable Christian beliefs to the core by talking about something she’s unlikely to understand.

  “I know you might not have a lot of time to talk, but do throw me a bone,” she pleads.

  “I don’t want to say too much because I’m at work and you know how walls have ears.”

  “Tell me about it,” she concedes.

  “You’re not going to believe what—”

  “Delilah.” My eyes dart to the door when Katrina calls out my name. “Ashley asked—”

  I lift my index finger in the air to tell her I’ll be right with her. “Give me a sec.” I return my attention to my mother. “Momma, I have to go. I think my boss needs me. I’ll call you later.” I’m so happy I wasn’t in the middle of recounting my story. I would’ve hated for Katrina to find out before Ashley does. Since Ethan promised to tell my boss about us, I’ll just sit tight until the cat is out of the bag.

  “Don’t let me hold you. Have a good rest of your day, honey. We’ll speak soon.”

  “Say hi to Daddy for me.”

  “I will for sure. Big kiss.”

  “Right back at you.” Once I hang up with my mother, I meet Katrina’s gaze. “My mom,” I offer as an explanation. She nods sympathetically. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No worries. Is she trying to find out if you’ve met with any members of the royal family again?”

  “No, not this time.” I laugh. “You were saying about Ashley?”

  “She wants to talk to you.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m sure she wants to pile up more work on my desk.”

  Katrina takes a few steps closer to me. “I know this gala has us all going nuts, but she’s in a very strange mood today.” She whispers her words.

  “Really? I haven’t seen her since she walked in. She’s been such a recluse today.”

  “Well, something is up. When she called me asking for you, she was practically barking on the other end of the phone. I was surprised. Ashley is usually Mrs. Cool and Collected. She sounded so grouchy. It’s so uncharacteristic of her.”

  “I hope I didn’t screw up.” Immediately I start searching in my memory bank to see if I might’ve made a mistake in planning for Calysta’s event.

  “I’m sure it’s not you. She loves you and she thinks you walk on water. That said, somebody’s got under her skin. I just thought you should know before going in there.”

  “Thanks for having my back.”

  “Us foreigners have to stick together.”

  We both laugh.

  * * *

  “Knock, knock, knock,” I say, poking my head inside my boss’ office, waiting for her to give me the green light. “You wanted to see me, Ashley?”

  “Come in, Delilah,” she says, waving me in. I push open the door and walk into the office. “Please take a seat.” She points in front of her. I do as I’m told. Once seated, I look up to meet Ashley’s gaze. When she smiles at me, I let out a sigh of relief.

  I guess Katrina was right after all, this has nothing to do with me. Armed with that knowledge, I lay on the Southern charm.

  “I haven’t seen you all day,” I say cheerfully. “The work around this gala keeps snowballing by the minute. We’re definitely all going to need an extended vacation after this.” I laugh, but Ashley remains stone-faced.

  “I’ve been busy with a tricky situation.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can help you with?” I offer.

  “I’m afraid not.” She flattens her lips in a straight line.

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind learning something new. I’m always open to a new challenge.”

  Ashley shakes her head and lowers her eyes. When she meets my eager gaze again I read something quite unsettling. What’s going on? “Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do and frankly neither can I.”

  “Oh. That bad, huh?” I’m not sure what she’s dealing with, but I’ve never seen her this defeated.

  “It is. It concerns you, Delilah.”

  My eyes grow wide. “Did I drop the ball?”

  “I wish that was it. It would make this so much easier.”

  What is she talking about? “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

  She sighs and starts tapping her fingernails against her desk. This isn’t looking too good. She’s at it for a few seconds before speaking again. “On Friday night, Samuel and I had a date—our first in a long time since he’s been traveling for several weeks in a row. The kids were with his parents and it was supposed to be an evening for us to reconnect as a couple.” I’m really not sure where she’s going with this. “It goes without saying that you don’t go to a five-star restaurant to spend a romantic evening with your husband without turning off your phone during your meal. It’s not only decorum, it’s showing common sense. After dinner, I checked my messages to see if my mother-in-law had called. My husband did the same. I did notice the red little signal for my text messages, but I ignored it because neither my parents nor my in-laws text. When they need to reach us, they call. It took them forever to even adopt email. I figured the messages were related to work or friends trying to get a hold of me—all things that could wait.”

  She’s going into a lot of personal detail. Why is she beating around the bush like this? Why not just blurt it out?

  “Flash forward to Saturday morning, after a wonderful evening with my husband and a night I’ll remember for a long time”—too much info—“I finally decided to tackle my messages. I figured I’d quickly skim through them and then go back to enjoying my time alone with Samuel. Big mistake. Scratch that. That was a monumental lapse of judgment on my part. The second I read the first message, all hell broke loose. Since leaving work the night before I had received exactly thirty-eight text messages. Worse, they were from the same person.” Who the hell is psycho enough to send that many messages in a row?

  “How do I fit into all of this, Ashley?” I ask nervously. My palms are as sweaty as my armpits.

  “I’m really sorry to say this, but you might unknowingly have found yourself smack in the epicenter.” Maybe it’s because she’s tired, but she’s still not making any sense.

  “In what way?” I’m trying my best to remain calm, but if the lump in my throat is any indication, I’m failing badly.

  “You’ve never met the person who bombarded my message box, but you’re here because of her.”

  “Samantha?”

  Ashley lets out a long exhale. “Exactly.”

  “What happened?”

  “You never had the pleasure—and I do say that loosely—to work with her.”

  “No.”

  “She’s quite the character. I love Mr. Walcott to pieces, but the only reason Samantha works here in the first place is because he doesn’t know what to do with her. He’s incapable of saying no to that girl and he’s admitted many times that letting her have her way is easier than dealing with her drama. Mrs. Walcott is an absolutely adorable person, but she’s no better than her husband when it comes to putting her foot down. It’s almost as if they placed their daughter under my care six yea
rs ago hoping that I’d parent her. For the love of God, we’re practically the same age. How the hell am I supposed to discipline her?” I’ve never seen Ashley like this. “Samantha gets what Samantha wants. She wanted to visit the Big Apple? She whined and stomped her feet enough until it happened. Six months after she expressed her wish, her father managed to find a gallery in New York willing to do an employee swap. Now it seems that Samantha urgently needs to get out of New York.” Oh, shit.

  “What brought this on? Is she having a difficult time adjusting? Does she not like the city anymore? Does it have to do with the frantic pace my former boss likes to impose? Is it the sweltering hot summer? All of the above?” I’m throwing questions at Ashley hoping one of them will be it.

  “I did my best to try to find out, but she’s been elusive at best on her text messages and I avoided a call with her at all costs. I have my theories to what might have brought on this sudden crisis, but I’ll keep them to myself. Because this situation threatened to be an explosive one, I pointed her to her father. He owns this gallery and in my personal opinion, I think he needs to deal with his daughter’s inability to act like a grown-up.”

  This conversation is making me more nervous by the second. It’s taking Ashley a very long time to make her point. “I’m really sorry to hear that. I’m still not clear on how Samantha’s meltdown affects me,” I say.

  Ashley lets out another heavy sigh. She fidgets with her fingers before meeting my gaze. “Mr. Walcott is in Hong Kong and he’s not due until Tuesday night—which means I won’t see him until Wednesday. He called me a few minutes ago to discuss the flurry of text messages he’s also been receiving from his daughter dearest. Just like me, he’s maneuvered to avoid a phone call with Samantha. That said, he’s already told me that based on the urgency he reads in her messages, he won’t stand by and watch his daughter suffer.” I’d hardly call renting a luxury apartment in one of the best neighborhoods in New York City suffering. “If she wants to come back to London, then that’s what needs to happen.”

  “Okay,” I say carefully.

  “Mr. Walcott reminded me that the only reason we’re able to take on two foreign curators is because Samantha isn’t on our payroll right now. Your former boss is responsible for her wages. When she comes back, that will all change.”

  “I see.” I’m keeping to only a few words. It’s much safer that way.

  “You’re an absolutely lovely person and I can’t tell you how much I enjoy working with you.” I feel a “but” coming. “You’re so fresh and enthusiastic, but the reality is Katrina has a lot of experience and in the short time that she’s been here she’s done a great job in managing new artists. You’re still learning.” Please, God, don’t do this to me. “This decision is killing me, Delilah.”

  “What are you saying, Ashley?” My fate is staring me straight in the face, yet I ask for clarification. “It’s never good when someone pays you a compliment then starts talking about being tormented by a decision.” My Texas drawl always deepens when my stomach is tied in a knot like this and since I’m freaking out right now because this conversation doesn’t sound like it’s going to bode well for me, my twang drips as I speak.

  Ashley sighs again. She’s been doing that a lot since I sat in front of her. “I can’t keep both of you.” Holy fuck. “My budget won’t allow it.” My heart sinks. “Businesswise I have to keep the one with the most experience.” That’s not me.

  “You mean I’m the one who ends up with the short end of the stick?” I know that’s what she said, but I figured if I formulate the question in a different way, maybe she’ll give me another answer. One I can handle. One that won’t crush my heart. One that won’t take me away from London.

  She drops her eyes to her desk and nods. “I’m very sorry, Delilah.” When I don’t say a word, she meets my gaze. I have no doubt she can see the sadness washing over me. “I have to terminate your contract.”

  No, no, no. This cannot be happening to me. Not after this dreamy weekend. I’m happier than I’ve ever been before. I can’t go back to New York. Not now. I’ve only been able to enjoy this wonderful relationship for a couple of weeks. Despair crashes through me. I want to cry, yell, scream and protest this injustice, but I simply say, “I understand.”

  The reality is that I don’t understand shit. This just sucks. How can God take Ethan and Xander away from me so soon? This isn’t fair.

  CHAPTER 56

  Delilah

  “I can’t keep both of you. I can’t keep both of you. I can’t keep both of you.” My boss’ words keep playing over and over in my head. Although she’s still talking and her lips are moving, I can’t make out a word she’s saying. I’m still stuck on the part where my whole world comes crumbling down into a pile of nothingness.

  When Katrina told me that Ashley was in a weird mood, I never imagined it was because she was about to deliver the most devastating news and that I’d be on the receiving end of it. I came to her office thinking that she and her assistant Constance were overwhelmed and Ashley needed me to take more work off their plates. I was prepared for that. But I still don’t know what to make of this blow.

  I can read the sadness in her eyes, but it does little to comfort me. I’m far too shell-shocked. Tears start prickling in my eyes and I have to bite the inside of my mouth not to start crying. I bring my hands up to my face and rub my forehead with my fingertips. No, no, no. My head is pounding so much, I’m sure a jackhammer drilling at the side of my temple wouldn’t be this painful. How am I going to live without them?

  Heartwarming scenes flash in front of my eyes—Ethan, Xander and I hanging out in the glass room after our trademark steamy sexcapades with the daylight washing the space. I love how we’d just kick around lounging on the couch, each one of us reading our iPad and catching up on what’s happening in the world. My legs are always tangled with theirs—a mirror of the unbreakable bond we share. Sometimes we’d simply talk and laugh for hours on end. Those moments were reminders that it wasn’t only about the mind-blowing sex. Soon, it will be all over. Please, God, you can’t do that to me.

  “Delilah.”

  I hear my name from far away, but I refuse to snap out of this comforting daydream. This is my happy place with my boys. I smile inside my hands when I remember that they’re my boyfriends now, not just random guys fucking me. What a shame I was only able to get a taste of Nirvana for a few short days.

  “Delilah.”

  I hear my name again, it’s a little closer now, but I remain steadfast in my resolve to keep my eyes shut to the cruel reality facing me.

  “Delilah!” This time Ashley’s voice is more incessant and finally breaks through the hazy cloud surrounding me. I can’t ignore it any longer. I bring my hands back down and rest them on my lap. I look up at her and she’s still looking at me with that same afflicted expression on her face. I try my best to keep it together to avoid bawling like a child—even though that’s really, really, really what I want to do. “Honey, where did you go just there?” A place where I’m not hurting this much. “It’s like you just traveled to this faraway place.” Not far enough, I’m afraid.

  “I’m just trying to make sense of it all.” I give her a more professional answer—one that doesn’t match the turmoil stirring inside me and growing at an infernal rate.

  “Believe me when I say that I’ve been agonizing over this decision. This was supposed to be a fantastic weekend with my husband. Unfortunately, it was so short-lived.” Just like my relationship with Ethan and Xander. “Since Saturday morning, it’s been a disaster. One flipping drama fest after the other. I don’t want to send you back to New York.” I don’t want to go back. “Everyone here loves you. Our clients absolutely adore you. You’re such a welcome breath of fresh air compared to—”

  “Samantha?” Her name tastes so sour in my mouth. This woman I don’t even know is creating havoc in my life just because she can snap her fingers and have Daddy dearest rip the rug right out from
under my feet. Unless she’s in a dire situation—which I doubt is the case—I’m not sure why the hell she needs to get out of New York so fast. Based on what I’ve heard about Samantha Walcott from my colleagues, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was just a stupid lover’s spat. Her petty quarrel is the thorn in my side.

  Ashley nods. “Yes. Samantha, aka the owner’s daughter.” No need to remind me. “Unfortunately, this gallery doesn’t belong to me. Just like you, I work here. Mr. Walcott makes the final decisions. Sure, I have some weight on certain matters, but none whatsoever when it comes to his daughter.”

  Misery washes over me again. The tears I’ve been holding back threaten to pour out of me like a raging river.

  “I understand.” I feign sympathy. My lips are pursed together so tightly, I’m surprised those words were able to slip out. There’s a part of me that wants to say more, but I can’t. I know it’s not Ashley’s fault. I also know she doesn’t have the slightest clue that God put in my way two of the most incredible men I’ve ever met in my life and that when I leave London, my fairytale ends. “What about the gala?” I ask, grasping at a chance to turn things around in my favor. “I’ve been diligently working on that and it’s coming up real fast. Is Samantha going to pick up the pieces? Is she going to see this through until the big night?”

  Ashley lets out another long sigh. “I don’t know. I mentioned it to Mr. Walcott. I don’t have time to bring Samantha up to speed. Frankly, no one in this gallery does. From experience, I know she doesn’t take much to heart. It also takes her a fairly long time to wrap her head around just basic work. I can only imagine how flustered she’ll be over this important upcoming event considering how many moving parts there are. Once it’s confirmed when Samantha is coming back, I don’t think I’d be able to keep you for more than two weeks.” Great, the gala takes place a week after.