Page 4 of The Surrender
“Me too,” Charley moans, rubbing her tummy. “Lloyd’s taken the kids to your parents’ room for a nap. I might join them.”
I chuckle and reach for the same glass of wine I’ve been sipping throughout dinner. “Did you see the cake?”
“Yeah.” Abbie frowns. “Why does it look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa?”
“The chef’s mislaid the cake stand. I don’t think anyone’s noticed.”
“How long before Rachel starts popping out babies?” Charley asks, making my glass falter on its way to my lips.
“I don’t think it’ll be long.”
Mum and Dad wander out onto the balcony, throwing smiles everywhere as they head our way. Mum’s eyes are still puffy. She’s spent most of the day weeping, along with Grandma. “You two okay?” I ask.
“Yes, darling, Grandma and Grandpa have gone to lie down for a while. It’s the noise, you see, and the band are about to start.”
“Oh, the band.” Charley hops up, suddenly full of beans. “I haven’t had a good dance since we got shamelessly drunk in Amazonico and forgot to pay our bill.” She chuckles, I wince, and Abbie hisses her disapproval. “Fuck,” Charley blurts. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her.
“What was insensitive?” Dad asks, reminding all three of us that we’re not alone.
“Nothing,” I sing, jumping up and kissing his cheek. “You look very dapper today, Dad.”
“Doesn’t he?” Mum gushes. “Come, come, it’s the first dance.” She shoves Dad back into the ballroom, and we all follow to watch the happy couple take to the floor.
I spot Grandma with Grandpa and hurry over. “You two oldies are supposed to be having nanna naps.”
Grandma expresses nothing but sheer disgust. “I’ll smack that arse of yours, Grand Girl,” she warns. “You think I’d miss the first dance?” She grabs my arm, pulling me close. “You’ve lost your sparkle,” she says, making my smile fall. “Where’s it gone, Grand Girl?”
I soften in her hold. “I’ve just misplaced it for a while, Grandma.”
“What happened?”
“It just didn’t work out.” The lump in my throat I’ve managed to keep under control starts rising.
“Love hurts, Amelia Gracie Lazenby.” She takes me in a squishy hug.
“I don’t love him,” I whisper.
“Oh, you silly,sillygirl.” Breaking away, she takes my cheeks, getting her nose close to mine. Her old eyes shine knowingly. “The best kind of love hurts the most.”
“Clark and Rachel are on the floor,” I whisper, my voice noticeably broken. I can’t talk about him.
“So they are,” she murmurs, hooking her arm through mine and turning us to face the floor, just as Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You” starts and Clark swoops Rachel into his hold. My bottom lip wobbles. He looks so happy, and no one can deny Rachel is perfect for him. She catches my eye as Clark twirls her, and I smile through my emotions as she puts a finger discreetly to her lips. Clark’s told her I know about the baby. My mum will be on cloud nine when they decide to break the news.
I find Grandpa on my right and pull him close, replacing my arm through Grandma’s with his. “I just need to use the ladies’,” I say, leaving them, but I don’t go to the ladies’. I take a fresh drink off the bar and head outside, hoping the cooling air will clear the glaze in my eyes.
Avoiding the gathering of smokers at the far corner, I take a moment before I’m undoubtedly discovered hiding. I underestimated how hard today would be. Keeping my game face on, trying not to let my heartbreak show. How I wish my family had never found out about Jude.
I sigh, glancing over my shoulder.
And freeze when I see Nick through the smattering of guests who’ve stepped out onto the balcony too. “Shit,” I whisper, moving myself between one of the tall pyramid lanterns and the edge of the balcony so he can’t see me.
My position gives me direct sight down onto Regent Street, and I nearly stop breathing when I see a man standing on the pavement across the road, his head tilted back to see up to the balcony, people dodging his static form. My stomach drops into my gold heels as I take him in, unable to look away. Messages and calls are easy to ignore. But when he’s within sight? He’s tired, I can see it even from up here. But despite that, he’s still too stunning for words. And I hate him for that too. His white shirt is tucked into grey trousers, his sleeves folded neatly to his elbows, the knot of his tie perfect.
I meet his eyes, and once they lock, I can’t tear them away, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I know I should. He lifts his phone to his ear, and mine starts ringing from the satin purse dangling from my wrist. On autopilot, I knock back the drink in my hand, parched, and set the glass on the ledge before getting my mobile out. I know I shouldn’t take this call. Everything is screaming at me to reject it. Rejecthim. And yet I still swipe the green icon and press my mobile to my ear.
The sound of the street below becomes amplified down the line. “Come to me, Amelia,” he says, his voice strong. Commanding. It’s the kind of tone I should scoff at. The kind of demand I should rebuff with a plainfuck off. “Don’t make me come up there.”
