That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(84)
“What?” Hayden asks, frowning down at my outstretched hand.
“A platonic handshake,” I offer, wiggling my brow.
He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing platonic about you and me, Bunny.”
I paint on a forced half smile and reach out and grab his hand, clutching his cuffed wrist firmly with my other in warning. I move in so my voice is a mere whisper on his mouth. “Don’t call me that. You lost the right to call me that the moment you stomped all over my heart last week.”
Hayden’s face falls. “I need to talk to you,” he replies, eyeing my pink lips with a hunger that makes my inner sex kitten stir.
“You lost that right too, Hayden,” I say, my belly fighting hard against the annoying fear of rejection that I still feel in his presence even though it’s me pushing him away right now. “You see, I’ve realised something this past week that you should know.”
“And what’s that?” he barks, annoyed.
My eyes turn to slits. “You’re no different than all the other men that have cast me aside for dead.”
His frustrated eyes turn glossy and panicky. “Of course I’m different,” he croaks. I move to step away from him, but his hand grips mine to the point that I could wince. “No, Vi,” his voice trembles.
I smile sadly at him. “None of this matters, Hayden. Just as I feel unlovable, you can’t accept love. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.” I move to walk away and he yanks me back toward him, his hand crawling around my waist in a desperate attempt to pull me against his body.
In a flash, Gareth is beside me, gripping Hayden’s forearms so hard I can see his knuckles turning white. “You’re done, Hayden,” he threatens.
Hayden instantly lets go, staring at me like I’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. And with that, I turn and walk away, holding my head up high and praying to the good Lord that he can’t see my shoulders shaking with my silent sobs.
PLAN A
Well that went as good as f*ck all, I think to myself as we pull up in a limo in front of the Bleeding Heart Tavern in Farringdon where the reception is already in full swing. I was moody and contemplative the entire joy ride around London. Thankfully, Leslie and Theo just let me stew. One way or another, I have to get Vi to listen to what I have to say. If I can just get past her thick f*cking brother.
All of her brothers did a proper job of scaring me off all week. They parked outside of C. Designs, or drove by over and over and over. Any time I had the urge to walk to Vi’s and beg her forgiveness, one of them was there…staring me down like they wanted to use my head as a football. So, much to my great dismay, I withheld calling Vi and ruminated over it the entire week. I anticipated tonight being the night that I’d get her to hear everything I needed to say.
I never once suspected that she’d bring a bloody bodyguard with her.
Round one goes to Bunny.
We waltz into the tavern and Jaci no K is there to greet us. “Okay everyone, you’re going to follow me. We’re going to enter the reception where Theo and Leslie will cut the cake and then immediately begin their first dance.”
“What about refreshments?” Frank croaks from somewhere behind me.
Jaci cuts him an evil glance. “There is a bar downstairs. You may grab a beverage as soon as the first dance begins. Not before. Not. Before.” Her eyes turn glacial.
“Blimey,” Frank murmurs beneath his breath. “Scary bird.” Leslie giggles into Theo’s shoulder as he whispers something in her ear. The two look like a couple of horny teenagers while we wait for Jaci to walk us down.
“You…boy,” Jaci says, snapping her fingers in my direction. “You will hold the baby during the first dance. The mother of the groom has her down there now. We want her to be able to enjoy her son’s first dance, so you shall fetch her.”
“Her name is Marisa,” I mumble.
“I know!” she snaps back defensively. “Marisa Winifred Clarke. Her birthday is March 11th and she’s got two teeth coming in already, which is unusually early for a three-month-old baby, but not unheard of.”
My brows lift. Round two goes to Jaci no K.
She whisks us down to the lower level, 600-year-old converted wine cellar. It’s apparently where Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon hosted a five-day party in the 1500s. It’s an impressive crypt full of exposed beams and candlelit oval tables. Every table is overwhelmed by spreads of wildflowers, as well as overflowing baskets scattered throughout the cosy room.
Jaci walks us by the filled tables where people have been eating hors d’oeuvres and sipping champagne for the past hour. We pause near the head table at the front of the room and wait patiently as Leslie scoops Marisa up into her arms from our mum. Leslie presses her lips to Marisa’s chubby cheeks, and I can’t tear my eyes away from my brother as he watches Leslie with a fondness that can’t be faked. Christ, he really loves her.
I quickly scan the room for Vi but come up empty-handed. Gareth is sitting next to Benji and what look like the rest of Leslie’s coworkers from Nikon. He scowls at me angrily and I just shake my head. I refuse to let him intimidate me. I don’t care how many bloody goals he’s stopped.
I chug down some water at the head table as Theo and Leslie cut the cake. Jaci no K snaps her fingers and two busboys come fumbling in to roll the cake away. Leslie looks over to me as the music for their first dance begins. I grin happily and stride over, pulling a face at Marisa as I approach. She flails her arms happily when I scoop her into my chest.