“Fancy a drink?” she asked as she walked to the door. “I’ll make one while you dress.”
“Great.”
“G&T?”
“Please.” She stole one last glance at him before leaving the bedroom and caught him towelling his hair, which made the muscles on his arms stand out and showed off his rippling abs. If she didn’t know better, she might think he was posing on purpose.
Once Dale had dressed, they sat in front of the window with their drinks. Everything below them had a thick white coating and the snow was still falling. Dale had switched on a lamp and with the lights on the little tree twinkling, the room had a cosy, homely feel. Their reflections were just visible in the window and Lucie was making a conscious effort not to meet Dale’s eyes. They were too dark, superimposed upon the night sky, and too full of things that Lucie could not even begin to fathom. The intensity of the kiss they’d shared had left her a bit wobbly. Though gentle and fleeting, she’d wanted it, and she’d wanted him.
She sipped her drink and savoured the strong juniper of the gin contrasting with the sweetness of the fancy elderflower tonic she’d found in the minibar. Her senses were on high alert. The lace of her sleeves caressed her shoulders, the satin of the skirt floated over her legs and even though Dale wasn’t sat right next to her, she could smell his aftershave and the clean soap scent of his skin. Manhattan was certainly working its Christmas magic, and it was having a heady effect upon Lucie. And she suspected it was doing the same to Dale.
“Penny for them?” he said, making her start, and as she did so, some of her drink slopped out over the edge. Dale placed his glass on the table and came to her aid with a tissue. “It’s clean, I promise,” he said as he dabbed it at her skirt. As he attempted to soak the gin and tonic out of her clothing, Lucie could only feel the weight of his hand on her knee and the warmth of his breath through her floaty skirt.
“It’s all right!” she snapped, pushing him away and getting up before she did something that would make them late for dinner. “Wow! Is it hot in here?” She made a show of fanning her face then quickly downed what was left in her glass. “We should be going soon.”
Dale gazed up at her from his position in front of her chair, his expression unreadable. After what seemed like an eternity, he got to his feet and nodded. “I guess so.”
***
On the way to The Plaza, Lucie chattered on about nothing important, telling Dale all about the other bridesmaids and how much Petra’s mother liked champagne. Dale nodded and laughed at the right times, but Lucie wasn’t sure that he was one hundred percent present. Perhaps he was regretting kissing her. Or, perhaps he was regretting coming and he was missing his family. The night before Christmas Eve was always a busy one at the Treharne household and by now, eggnog would be poured as the family gathered together to celebrate. The festivities always lasted for at least five days and Lucie had often dipped in and out of them, only able to manage the family happiness for short periods of time. She had enjoyed being with Dale’s family but it also made her miss her mother more, as well as making Lucie angry at her for what had happened. The school counsellor she’d seen for two years afterwards had told her that anger was a by-product of grief, and that she could expect it to ebb and flow along with the pain, but Lucie’s anger was more complicated than even Dale knew.
Some things were best left in the past, buried away where they couldn’t rise up and hurt you. It was the time of year conjuring old demons, and she just needed to focus on the here and now and push her sadness away. This was a different type of Christmas, although with things happening between her and Dale as they were, it seemed that her emotions were beginning to simmer.
They entered the hotel and were directed to a cavernous room where the rehearsal dinner was being held for a select number of wedding guests. Petra had told her that it was be an intimate gathering, to catch up before the wedding day. But as Lucie and Dale entered the Grand Ballroom, she had to force her mouth shut. There were at least a hundred people milling about, some standing in groups and talking as they sipped from gold-rimmed champagne flutes, while others sat at their tables and picked at canapés delivered by smart waiting staff. On every table was a small golden Christmas tree decked out with LED lights. The tablecloths were gold and cream and the chairs were draped with gold and cream covers.
“Mr and Mrs Barnsley haven’t spared any expense, have they?” Dale asked as he accepted two flutes of bubbly from a waiter, handing one to Lucie.
“They certainly haven’t.” Lucie was scanning the room, taking in the elaborate ceiling with its enormous chandeliers, the small balconies between heavy gold drapes that lined the one side of the ballroom and the pink-lit stage that sat behind what appeared to be the top table.
“A wedding of this size must take some planning, Dale.”
“You want a smaller affair, hey?” he asked, winking at her. She was warmed by his tone and the little wink, his way of letting her know that all was well between them. He used to do it when they were at school, if they’d had a falling out over a mutual friend, or when one of them had been reprimanded by a teacher for not completing work or chewing gum in class. Their school had been so strict when they were younger, and Lucie had been terrified of getting into trouble. Dale had been more confident, indifferent almost to the authority of the teachers, especially when it came to standing up for Lucie. One time he even spat his gum out on the classroom floor because Lucie’d had been admonished for eating a cough sweet. Of course, he’d been disciplined for that one, but it had shifted the heat away from Lucie. Another instance of just how much he looked out for her.
“This is too much. Don’t you think so?”
Dale sipped from his glass, holding his pinky at a right angle. “Oh I don’t know. I’m sure mummy and daddy Treharne would see this as a paltry affair. We’ll have something much bigger and better, you mark my words, Quigley.”
She giggled, imagining how Glenda and Hank would react to that news. She knew her own father would have little to contribute and anyway, it was so old-fashioned now to expect the bride or groom’s parents to pay for their children’s weddings. Petra’s family were quite traditional in that way but for regular working class and middle class people, money would be tighter, weddings less ostentatious – unless they’d won the cost of their wedding on some reality TV show, of course. And that thought made Lucie shudder. She’d hate to be on display for all the world to see.
Lucie couldn’t see Petra anywhere. Perhaps she was in an ante-room greeting guests, or off somewhere with Harry, fine-tuning last-minute details.
Someone must have directed guests to take their seats because suddenly Lucie and Dale were the only ones left standing. “There must be a seating plan, Luce,” Dale whispered from between clenched teeth.
They hurried off to the corner near the entrance where there was a giant board with a plan stuck to it. “How did we miss this?” Lucie asked.
“Too shell-shocked I guess,” Dale replied as they scanned the board. “There we are.” He pointed at a table. “Right next to the top table.”
“Come on then!” Lucie didn’t even check the plan properly, she just followed Dale, keen to sit down before they attracted too much attention.
They took their seats quickly. A noise from the doorway next to the stage made all heads turn. Petra, Harry and their parents entered the room.
“They’re like royalty,” Dale whispered, stifling laughter.
“They practically are.”
Lucie watched Petra and Harry as they walked to the top table hand-in-hand. They stood there, flanked by their respective parents, as the guests applauded.
“Imagine getting a round of applause just for entering a room, Luce.”
“Dale, be quiet.” Lucie said behind her hand. “We’re amongst their family and friends.”
He shrugged. “It’s just funny, that’s all. I can’t imagine going through something like this myself.”
Lucie glanced at hi
m, wondering if he meant the whole elaborate display, but the room fell silent and there was a tinkling from the top table as Petra’s father tapped a spoon against his whisky glass.
“Thank you. Thank you!” Petra’s father, Jackson Barnsley, raised his glass to the room. “We’re extremely grateful to you all for joining us at this joyous – yet very short-notice – union of our daughter Petra with Harry. This has, I’m afraid, been a long time coming.” He cleared his throat as Petra and Harry shifted in their seats, clearly uncomfortable. “But, at last, the day of their union is almost upon us and we are all very, very, very happy that these two are about to join themselves together.” He ran fat fingers over his grey goatee beard and a thick gold signet ring glinted on his pinkie. Next to him, Joanna snorted then guzzled more champagne. No wonder Petra had issues if her father could manage to work negativity into his pre-wedding speech. And, if what Tania had told her was correct, and Harry was not as in love with his bride as he should be, then perhaps Petra was clinging to her fiancé for entirely the wrong reasons.
She turned back to the top table to find Jackson raising his glass high. The amber liquid in the crystal tumbler swished against the sides. “Congratulations to you both! May you be blessed with happiness and many, many children.” He slugged his whisky then took his seat.
Next up was Harry’s father. Phillip Goldsmith was quieter than Jackson and he held a champagne flute not a whisky glass, but his speech was much warmer. He spoke briefly about his love for his only son and of how he hoped they would soon hear the patter of tiny feet.
“Seems Petra and Harry have their itinerary for the foreseeable future,” Dale said, shaking his head. “It’s madness being forced into childbearing like that.”
“What, like being forced into a fake relationship and a fake engagement? Are we really any better?” Lucie asked.
“Touché.” Dale held up his hands. “But we are aiming to tell the truth when we go home. Aren’t we?”
Lucie was about to reply when she became aware that someone was peering around the Christmas tree in the middle of their table. She tried not to look directly at the person, suspecting he or she was just looking at the top table, but curiosity overpowered her and when she met the familiar grey eyes, she started.
“What is it?” Dale’s hand tightened around hers and he made a funny sound, a bit like a growl, deep within his chest.
“I didn’t know he’d be here.”
“Neither did I.” Lucie went cold and weak, and if it hadn’t been for Dale’s firm grip, she might have floated off towards the ceiling like a helium balloon that hadn’t been anchored.
Jamie Davenport waved and mouthed Hello at her.
She looked away.
What do I do? Shit! Shit! Shit!
It felt like a lifetime since she’d last seen him, and now here he was, in Manhattan. The physical manifestation of something she’d rather forget.
She turned away quickly.
Ignore him. Pretend he’s not there.
She was relieved that Harry had got up and was talking about his new alliance with the Barnsleys – although it sounded more like a business arrangement than a romantic union – because otherwise she might have had to speak to Jamie. She eyed the room, checking out the nearest exits. She could wait until the end of the speeches then slip out when dinner was being served. That way she wouldn’t have to speak to him; she could escape.
Escape the shame. The old pain. The memories. The sadness.
“Ignore him.” Dale leant closer to her. “He’s nothing to you now. You’re my fiancée remember. He can’t hurt you any more.”
Oh Dale, you don’t understand because I never told you everything.
She met Dale’s eyes and sank gratefully into their depths. His hands were warm on her arms and he communicated a thousand words in his gaze. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, Luce. I promise.”
She wriggled on her chair to get closer to him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. His proximity made her feel safer. He was her friend; he had her back. Jamie was in her past and he couldn’t hurt her anymore. She was with Dale.
I’m with Dale.
She leant over and kissed Dale’s cheek softly, enjoying the sting of his aftershave on her lips, the warmth of his skin up close.
“Thank you,” she whispered, as he squeezed her and handed her a glass.
But even though she knew that Dale wouldn’t let anything happen to her, she still felt a black terror sweep through her that she hadn’t felt in some time.
No one knew exactly how Jamie had let her down. She’d never told anyone. Not even Dale. Especially not Dale. She didn’t think she ever would. But she was also sensible enough to know why she blamed herself just as much as she blamed him. And while he was still around, while she was still carrying this shame, she knew she’d struggle to relax.
Or to let go.
Or to move on.
Chapter 12
When the speeches were finished, Lucie tapped Dale’s arm.
“I need to go.”
Dale flashed a glance at Jamie, who was talking to the man at his side.
“Because of him?”
“No. Yes. No. Well sort of. I didn’t know he’d be here. I can’t sit opposite him and eat. I’ll say I’ve got a migraine or something if anyone asks. You stay and have your dinner if you want.”
“Absolutely not! I’m coming with you.” Dale stood and took Lucie’s hand then they crossed the floor towards the exit. The guests were talking and drinking as starters were served and everyone seemed immersed in their enjoyment of the pre-wedding gathering.
As they left the room, Lucie released the breath she’d been holding.
“Lucie!” She turned to find Petra hurrying towards them. “Where are you going? Oh goodness! You look awful!” She covered her mouth. “I mean… you don’t look well, you’ve gone green.”
“She’s got a migraine. She needs to lie down.” Dale slid his strong arm around Lucie’s shoulders. “I’ll take her back to the hotel.”
“Oh, Lucie, no. Do you need a doctor? I can get one to come to you. Will you be all right for tomorrow?” Her eyes were wide and her mouth trembled as if she too was overcome with conflicting emotions.
“No need for a doctor. I just need a lie down.”
“And that’s all that’s wrong?”
“Petra…” Lucie considered whether to say anything.
“What is it? Have I done something wrong? Has someone else done something?” Petra looked as if she might burst into tears.
“Look… I didn’t know that Jamie would be here. Stupid really, as he’s Harry’s friend, but you hadn’t mentioned him and I guess I hoped he just wouldn’t appear.”
“I’m so sorry, Lucie. I thought that with you and Dale being together now that you wouldn’t mind. And with poor Jamie being as he is now, I guess I hoped you wouldn’t mind so much. We didn’t know if he’d actually make it out here in all honesty, but his brother brought him. Jamie’s one of Harry’s old university friends and Harry wanted him here. I did say that it might be awkward after you two used to date, especially when you were seated at the same table, but it was some time ago now and then I got distracted by something else and…” She wrung her hands together. “All I can say is sorry.”
His brother brought him? Poor Jamie? What was poor about him?
“Can I persuade you to stay?” Petra cut into her thoughts. “We could quickly rearrange a few seats and put you, or him, at another table.”
Lucie shook her head. “No. No. Thank you. Then he would think he’d upset me, and I don’t want that. I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise.”
She kissed Petra’s cheeks gently then allowed Dale to take her back to their hotel.
Once they’d closed the door to their suite, Lucie felt as if she could breathe again. Her pulse slowed and her hands stopped trembling. But the butterflies in her stomach remained, stirred into wild fluttering every time she remembered that Jamie was in New
York and that he’d be at the wedding.
Dale removed his jacket and shoes and took them into the bedroom. “You want me to order something from room service?”
Lucie’s stomach growled in response.
“I guess that’s a yes, then? What do you fancy?”
“Anything. Surprise me. I’m going to change.” She padded into the bedroom and pushed the door shut then sank onto the bed. She didn’t want Dale to see exactly how bad she felt but she suspected that this was how she’d feel if she’d been hit by a bus. She’d once loved Jamie so much, thought he was everything she could ever want in a man. She’d trusted him, believed in him. But she hadn’t really known him at all and her shame at that still had the power to sicken her. How could she have been so stupid? So wrong. So naïve.
She unzipped her dress, took it off, then hung it in the wardrobe. She was safe here with Dale. They would eat then sleep and everything would seem better in the morning.
It always did.
***
“That was amazing! I’m honestly glad we came back and ordered food here. Plus, I got to eat in my pyjamas.” Lucie tucked her feet underneath her and snuggled into the corner of the sofa. She cradled a large mug of tea.
Dale came to sit next to her. “It was delicious.” He eyed her over the steam rising from his mug. “Are you sure you’re okay now?” Lucie’s reaction to seeing Jamie had been dramatic. He’d known that Jamie had hurt her a few years back and that it had taken her a while to get over it, but when she saw him earlier, it looked as if she’d seen a ghost. He was worried enough anyway with tomorrow being the anniversary of her mother’s death. The whole point of this trip had been to help Lucie enjoy Christmas and he’d been making progress, but now that scumbag had shown up, and Dale didn’t know if it would cause a massive setback.
“I am, Dale. I was just surprised. Now I know he’s here, I can deal with it and get on with being a good bridesmaid for Petra.”
“He was never good enough for you, Luce.” He drained his tea then placed his mug on the table. As he leaned forwards, he grimaced.
A Very Merry Manhattan Christmas Page 16
