“June weddings are so traditional, I know, but then traditions are honorable, don’t you think? And mine will be the wedding of the season.” She laughs again. “The entire year probably.”
“No doubt,” Laura deadpans.
Amanda flashes a look at Laura and then gestures toward my mom. “Alison, this is Marie Cole.”
“Good afternoon,” Alison says, obviously not happy at having her wedding gush interrupted.
“And you’ve already met her daughter,” Laura says.
Alison looks at me with not a hint of recognition. “I don’t believe so.”
“Chelsea Cole,” Laura adds, “you met her in California. Outside Jeremy’s flat.”
Alison’s face hardens as fast as a drop of melted wax hitting an ice cube. Laura grabs my left hand and lifts it to show Alison my ring.
“They’re getting married … in May.”
“Congratulations,” Alison says through gritted teeth and a rictus smile. She turns back to Amanda. “It was nice to see you, Amanda.”
We watch as Alison stalks toward a group of women standing on the far side of the lobby. I look away first and back at Amanda. Was her glance at Laura out of fear her daughter might mess up her plan to humiliate me? I’m still wondering when Amanda turns to me.
“I’m sorry that happened, Chelsea.”
Before I can respond, she grins. Then a giggle bubbles out, and she presses her napkin to her mouth as if to prevent another one escaping.
“But,” she adds, her eyes sparkling, “isn’t it fortunate that you planned your wedding for May?”
We’re all smiling as we return to our desserts and tea. I’m relieved but confused. Jeremy led me to believe his mother had practically arranged his marriage to Alison, so what’s changed? If she approved of Alison so much, how could she accept me as a replacement?
A few minutes later, I realize that Alison and I were dressed almost identically. Except for her pearl choker.
A chorus of happy men’s voices ring out when Laura answers her door. A few seconds later, a crowd of six men burst into the living room with Ethan at the head.
“We’re kidnapping Jeremy,” he announces. “Impromptu stag night.”
“But”—Jeremy looks to me—“our dinner plans …”
He’s struggling to hold back a grin.
“No big deal,” I say, “we have dinner every night. Go on.”
“Thanks.” He kisses me quickly, and the man pack files back out past Laura.
“Well,” she says, “it’s just you and me tonight.”
I’m too preoccupied with a sudden bad feeling about this stag night business to do more than nod.
“Something wrong? You aren’t angry about Jeremy going—”
“No. Of course not. And it will be fun, just the two of us.”
“It will, so let’s change plans. We’ll have a quick dinner and then make the rounds of some of my fave spots for drinks.”
“A girls’ night out.”
Laura looks down at her outfit—a cashmere sweater and wool slacks. “But first we need to glam it up a bit.”
“Sure.”
We head to our rooms to change. I don’t know what Laura considers glam, but it’s probably not what I’m thinking, so it’s a good thing I didn’t bring any of my regular party outfits. After seeing how Alison was dressed today, I changed clothes the minute we got home. So I keep on my skinny jeans, but trade my wool cowl-neck sweater for a white silky V-neck one and my boots for red stilettos. Still pretty conservative but dressier. I spice up my eye makeup and head to Laura’s room.
Her door is open. I don’t see her, but when I step into the room, I hear her moving around in the bathroom. “Laura?”
“Almost ready.”
A moment later, she steps out. Totally transformed. Her hair is pulled up in a messy topknot, leaving several loose tendrils that look effortlessly artful. She’s wearing a black body-con mini dress with spike-heeled ankle boots. And then she totally rocks it by slipping on a purple leather bolero jacket.
By comparison, I look like a middle-aged mom. The look she gives me agrees.
“Chelsea? What the hell!”
“Pretty lame, huh?”
“Definitely not the bomb ass you I met in California.”
“I wanted to make a good impression. On your parents.”
“Well, we won’t be seeing them tonight.” She beckons me to follow her into her closet. “We’re the same size, I think.”
Ten minutes later, dressed in a black bustier skater dress, I feel like myself for the first time since we arrived in London.
“Perfect,” she says. “And I have a killer red jacket that will match your shoes, but first … your hair. I don’t have any color spray, but we can spike it up or do something to make it more your style.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re eating fish and chips from a nearby shop. Laura assures me the grease coating our stomachs will allow us to drink more without getting “pissed.” The taxi drops us at a club called Sync, where we drink lavender martinis and dance. We leave with Becky, a friend of Laura’s, in tow. At the second club, Bling, their friend Prisha joins us and we drink ginger balls. Men try to join our group too, but though we dance with them, they’re not invited to sit with us. After a while, the four of us take “the tube” to a third club. I don’t catch this one’s name. Apparently, the second ginger balls burned off the grease coating my stomach. We’re all laughing a lot and too loudly, but we’re girls on a night out, so we order cosmopolitans.
I’m done with dancing after just one cosmo and decline the third round. I’m homesick for Gabi, and tears sting my eyes when I wonder what Jeremy’s doing right now, so I don’t argue when Laura calls it a night explaining that we have morning plans before we’re off to the country. Because Becky and Prisha aren’t ready to leave, we all hug and part ways.
Outside, too woozy to decide whether to call a taxi or take the tube back to Laura’s, we just start walking. I feel surprisingly warm. Suddenly I remember the first night Jeremy and I got high together, and tears spill over my lashes. “I love him so much.”
“I hope you’re talking about my brother.”
“Jeremy’s wonderful and sweet and smart and … and … great. He’s just great. Don’t you think he’s great, Laura?”
Teared up herself, she just nods.
“We’re drunk, aren’t we?”
She nods again. A minute later she says, “It’s raining.”
It is. We’re already half-soaked. She grabs my arm, and we stumble into the pub across the street. It’s loud and crowded.
“Find us a table,” she says. “I’m going to the loo.”
I don’t see any empty tables, but then everything’s a little blurry. I might be swaying a teeny, tiny, little bit. I grab onto a post by the door and squint, concentrating harder. A burst of laughter draws my attention to a group in one corner. The jolly bunch is several guys and one … two … three women. Ohmygod. I stop breathing. The woman at the center of the group is sitting next to Jeremy. Fuck that. Let’s tell it like it is—the bitch is practically sitting on his lap. And worse—yes, it gets worse—for the second time today, I’m looking at that slut Alison.
“Chelsea, why are you still stand—”
Yep. I’m not hallucinating. Laura sees them too.
“It’s not what you think,” she says, starting toward them.
I grab her arm. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
I shake my head and stumble back outside. Laura catches up with me a half block from the pub.
“Let’s go back in and see what’s—”
“Why would Ethan do that? I thought he liked me.”
“He does. Ethan didn’t invite her to join them. I’m sure of that.”
It’s still raining. Laura pulls me under an awning and calls for a taxi. Then she dials again.
“Who are you calling?”
She gives me the one-finger-wait-a-sec sign. “E
than? It’s Laura. Take this call outside.”
I’m furious and try to grab her phone, but she turns her back and holds me off.
“I’m with Chelsea,” she says. “We’re down the street. Look to your right.” She waves at him, and he jogs our way.
“Why are you two out here in the rain?”
“We were just in the pub,” she tells him.
“Yeah? Why didn’t you—” His eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Explain.”
He holds up both hands palms forward. “They pushed their way into our group. I swear. No one invited them.” He turns to me. “Jeremy has no blame in this.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “He seemed pretty cozy with Alison a few minutes ago.”
“That’s all her. I swear it. If he was sober, he would have none of that.”
Laura grabs his shoulder and turns him back to her. “You seem sober enough to take care of it for him, Ethan.”
“Too right. I’ll do that. I should have done. I’ll do it now. Statim.”
She points a finger at him. “Do not tell Jeremy that Chelsea saw him.” Ethan nods. “I’m serious about that, Ethan. You know I will make your life miserable if you tell him.”
He raises his right hand. “Not a word.” Laura gives him a push toward the pub. He takes an unsteady step or two, and then lowers his head and rushes forward to get out of the rain.
“Do you believe that Jeremy is innocent?” Laura asks.
“Come on, Laura. How could he be so drunk he doesn’t realize she’s hanging all over him?”
“I take it you’ve never seen him completely shit-faced.”
I open my mouth to protest. But she’s right. I’ve seen Jeremy high or with a buzz, but never really, really drunk. “I hate that bitch. I’d like to rip her hair out.”
The taxi pulls up to the curb.
“As much as I’d love to see that, we’d best go home.”
We ride for a few minutes in silence before I question Laura. “Why did you tell Ethan not to let Jeremy know we saw him?”
“I didn’t want Alison to have that satisfaction.”
I link arms with her and lean my head on her shoulder. Isn’t it great to have a future sister-in-law who’s got your back … especially when she lets you borrow her clothes?
“And,” she says, “we don’t want to give him time to make up a lie.”
CHAPTER 10
For the first few seconds after I wake, I lie with my eyes closed, thinking I’m at home. Then last night flashes before me, and I sit up. Jeremy’s not in bed. There’s not even a dent in his pillow where his head should have been. Just to be sure, I scramble to the foot of the bed and then his side looking for his clothes on the floor. Nothing there or on any of the chairs in the room. I might have slept through his coming in last night, but there’s no way he got up this morning, showered, and dressed without waking me.
I picture him with Alison, and my stomach flips. I’m certain I’m about to vomit when another possibility surfaces. Ethan. Thank you, God. Ethan must have taken Jeremy home with him. I throw on a shirt and jeans and head for the stairs.
The smell of coffee pulls me all the way down to the kitchen. Laura and my mom are sitting at the table. I hold up my phone. “Can you give me Ethan’s number?” I ask Laura.
“Why?”
“Jeremy must be there. He didn’t come home last night.”
“Yes, he did,” my mom says.
“He made it as far as the sofa,” Laura adds. “That’s probably a good thing. He might have broken his neck if he’d tried to climb the stairs.”
I run back up a flight to the living room. Jeremy is sprawled facedown on the sofa, still dressed in last night’s clothes … or most of them. His socks and shoes are nowhere in sight. I kick him in the knee. “Get up!”
He shoots to his feet. Then he clutches his head and collapses back on the sofa with a groan. I go back down to the kitchen and make two cups of coffee. When I return to the living room, he’s lying down again.
“Sit up and drink this.”
He gives me a slightly unfocused glare but sits up and takes the cup.
“How was your stag night?”
“Drank too much.”
“With the guys?”
His nod is followed by another groan. I wait, sipping my coffee while he drinks half of his.
“So. Just you and the guys, huh?”
His brow creases. His eyes shift back and forth as he replays the night. I can tell the exact second he remembers Alison by the way his brow clears and he sits upright. He swallows. He doesn’t look at me.
“If you’re trying to think up a lie, don’t bother. I was there.”
Now he looks at me, frowning deeper than before. “You were there? I don’t remember—”
“You didn’t see me. I didn’t hang around when I saw that bitch draped all over you.”
“She wasn’t. At least … I don’t think she was.” He heaves a sigh. “I was completely pissed, Chelsea.”
“So then you don’t really have any idea what you did or didn’t do.”
“I wouldn’t do—” He sits up straighter. “We spent the whole night in pubs. I’m sure of that. So I couldn’t have—”
“Have you forgotten that night we were in the women’s restroom at—”
“I didn’t do that or anything close to it last night.”
“Except you were ‘completely pissed,’ so …”
He slumps forward, holding his head. I wait.
After a couple of minutes, he gets to his feet slowly. “I have witnesses. Ask Ethan”—he pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it out to me—“and my other mates’ numbers are in there too. Call them all.” He shakes his phone at me. “Take it. They will also tell you I had no idea she or any women would join us and that I did not cheat on you in any way.”
“Put your phone away. Ethan already cleared you.”
“When?”
“Last night. Laura called him out of the pub after we saw you.”
He sits back down. With elbows resting on his knees, he focuses on his clasped hands. “I’m sorry you saw me like that.”
“I’ll bet you are.”
“I meant the drinking. But I’m also sorry for whatever else you saw, which wouldn’t have happened if I’d been sober.”
“Wouldn’t have been much of a stag night if you’d been sober.”
He looks up at me. I smile. He sighs.
“I really do love you,” he says.
“You’d damn well better, dude. Now get in the shower. You probably stink of her perfume.”
Twenty minutes later, Jeremy joins us in the kitchen. He chooses his coffee and starts it brewing.
“The forecast is for sun all day,” Laura says. “I thought we’d go up to Camden Market. One last hurrah before we head to the country.”
“Mm-hmm.” Jeremy leans back against the counter sipping his coffee.
“Oh, Jemmy, let’s see if we can get a transport on the canal.”
“Why?”
“But first, let’s walk over to Tabernacle for breakfast. Couldn’t you murder a nice plate of juicy sausage and runny eggs before the boat ride, Jemmy?”
Queasiness washes over Jeremy’s face.
“Bad deal if the water’s rough, though,” Laura says. “You know how it is when a boat’s bobbing up and down and up and down and—”
Jeremy groans. “You are the devil’s spawn, Lolly.”
Laura grins.
“I’ll bet life would have been fun growing up with you two,” I say.
“You didn’t torment your brothers, Chelsea?”
“No,” I say at the same time my mother says the opposite.
“You most certainly did,” she says.
“And then you would tell your father they’d started it,” Jeremy says.
“You weren’t there.”
“Ah, but I’ve spoken to your brothers.”
“Well, they deserved it,” I say.
<
br /> “You lied to get Scott and Ryan in trouble?” my mom says, offended. “And I took your side.”
I shoot Jeremy a deadly look. “They picked on me at other times, Mom.”
“Precisely,” Laura says. “You take your revenge when you can.”
We fist-bump.
My mom and Jeremy are shaking their heads in reproof at both of us.
Laura stands. “Let’s get ready, ladies. Enjoy your coffee and quiet while it lasts, brother.”
We leave him in the kitchen and go upstairs. After a quick shower, I blow-dry my hair. It’s still a shock to see myself in the mirror. I haven’t had hair this dull since I was eleven—no, even that summer, Gabi and I experimented by dying our hair with Kool-Aid. It didn’t show much on her dark hair, but I had some pretty wild colors going until my mom put her foot down. Oh, well, boring hair is a small sacrifice to help ease things with the lord and lady.
Jeremy’s here when I come out of the bathroom. He’s standing by his old desk, looking out the window.
“I did our laundry,” I say.
He nods but doesn’t look at me.
“Have you packed yet?”
“Yes.”
“I just have a few things left to pack when we get back this afternoon.” He says nothing, so I go to stand beside him, but he pulls me in front and wraps his arms around me.
“What did you think of my parent’s town house?”
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a drawing room … well, on TV, but I’ve never actually been in a room like that. It made me feel elegant. And this house is gorgeous too. How could you stand living at Ocean View?”
He stiffens and drops his arms to his sides but says nothing. I feel stupid just standing in front of him, so I turn, look up, and smile, which is no less awkward because he’s looking over my head, still staring out the window. I’m not sure what’s up, but I’m probably better off letting him work it out on his own. I leave him at the window and put on my wool coat and scarf and hat, tucking my gloves into a pocket. (I don’t trust the sun here anymore.)
As I watch him gazing out at the city he loves, I mentally slap myself for being so dense. Why do I keep saying things that remind him of what he would still have if he’d never moved to California?
After another minute, I say, “I guess we’d better go.”
Love & Liability (A High Tea & Flip-Flops Novel Book 2) Page 11
