Page 9 of The Surrender
Abbie, Charley, and I all sway out of the ballroom after saying our slurry goodbyes, our heels dangling from our fingers. “God, I’m going to pay for this in about”—Charley squints down at her watch—“five hours.” Her head drops back, her wild curls skimming her arse. “Ohhhhhh Gooooddddd.”
“Come stay in my room,” Abbie suggests. “Lloyd can’t make you get up if you’re not there.”
Charley gasps. “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” Her arms go up over her head, a half-stretched yawn and a half-celebratory cheer. “I’ll tell him I didn’t want to wake the kids, so I stayed with you.” She starts skipping towards the elevator. “I’m taking the right side.”
“You’ll take whatever side I give you,” Abbie retorts.
“I’d sleep in the fucking bathtub if it means I don’t have to get up at six.”
I laugh and herd them into the cart, pressing the button for floor three. “What a lovely day,” I muse, falling back against the wall. Aside from my interlude with Jude, it turned out better than I expected. Thank you, Chablis, and some good old party tracks.
“It was!” Abbie sings.
“So who’s next?” Charley asks, looking between us. Abbie and I snort. Not happening. Maybe ever.
“Depends if I ever find the hot bastard that took me to bed in France.”
“You’d marry him?” I ask. “You don’t even know his name.”
“I’d do anything that man demanded.” She frowns at Charley. “Except put my finger up his bum.”
I laugh hard as Charley gasps her indignance, and when the doors open, I stumble out, still chuckling. “Sleep tight, you two,” I say, letting myself into my room. I can hear Abbie still winding Charley up as they zigzag down the corridor.
I drop my heels and purse and fall to my back on the bed with a sigh. “Water,” I blurt out, immediately pulling myself up again. I glug back an entire bottle, hoping to hydrate my brain so it doesn’t shrivel to the size of a nut, then grab my phone and prop myself against the headboard. I flick through the pictures I captured on the dance floor, smiling from ear to ear, particularly at the one of Grandpa and Grandma headbanging.
So precious.
But my smile drops when a text invades the screen. I breathe in.
I fucking dare, Amelia.
I jump when someone starts banging on my door, my heart going from zero to a hundred in one beat. “Shit,” I whisper, scooting to the edge of the bed and creeping across the room. I hold my breath, shaking like a leaf, and peek through the tiny peephole. I don’t know whether to be relieved when I see Nick on the other side. “Fuck.” I move back, just as he starts banging again.
“Come on, Amelia, just answer the door. I know you’re in there.” A few more thuds sound as I lower to the mattress, still and quiet, praying he goes away. “Please.”
My eyes move to the clock under the TV, and I watch as the minutes tick by, Nick constantly calling and knocking, me unmoving and mute. Twelve minutes pass before I hear another voice. Security? They exchange a few heated words, loud at first, and then the voices start to drift away. I get up slowly and carefully, padding to the door and peeking through. My exhale is loud and long when I see Nick and a suited man disappear from view. Rolling onto my back, I lean against the door, my face in my hands.
I fucking dare, Amelia.
The phone by the bed starts ringing, and I move my hands from my face, staring at it for an age, scared to answer. It takes everythingin me and more to find the courage, my breath held when I eventually pick up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Miss Lazenby, forgive the late-night interruption; it’s security here.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about the disturbance.”
“Indeed. We haveanothergentleman trying to get up to your room.”
My stomach churns so much, I fear I might throw up all over the carpet. “Who?”
“Mr. Harrison.”
Jesus Christ.“I don’t know a Mr. Harrison.” It falls out unexpectedly and quickly. Instinct. I hang up and move away from the phone, startling again when my mobile starts ringing. “Shit,” I hiss, rejecting the call from Jude. I toss it across the bed before stripping and getting in the shower, washing the day away. Just standing there, ignoring the muffled sound of my mobile ringing persistently past the noise of the water pouring down on me.
Chapter 4
Sunday morning is a flurry of goodbyes and kisses, tears and laughs. I didn’t sleep a wink, waiting for my door to be hammered down, and I was forced to put my mobile on silent after I finally braved getting out of the shower.
Everyone checks out and leaves, but I volunteer to hang around and wait for the chef to begin his shift so we can try to find out where he’s hidden the cake stand. Clark’s put a two-hundred-pound deposit on it, and he wants it back. Plus, I don’t want to go to Abbie’s just yet. I’m scared Jude will be there. Waiting to bend and break me again. Or maybe Nick will be there, ready to enhance this never-ending guilt.
