‘I didn’t expose anything, Hope, it was all right there.’
But it wasn’t, it hadn’t been, she’d hidden it all under efficiency, under plans, under busyness, until even she had no idea how she felt any more. It had taken his eye to see it and strip her bare until she couldn’t hide any more. ‘I hope you’re satisfied, Gael. I hope this painting brings you fame and fortune. I hope it’s worth it. But at the end of the day that’s all you’ll have. You tell me I’m a coward? I’m not the one recreating pictures of an idealised woman. I’m not the one cold-shouldering the family who love him, who care for him, who have done nothing but support him even when they no longer had any legal link. I’m too afraid to go for what I want? I’m not the only one. You’d rather photograph life, paint life than live it.’
Hope would have given anything to make a dramatic exit but unless she wanted to walk through the grand marble foyer, past Gael’s doorman and out into the streets in a white robe that was never going to happen. She changed as quickly as she could, gathering all her belongings and stuffing them into a bag. It didn’t take long. She’d practically lived here for the past eleven days, heading back to her own tiny apartment every couple of days to get a change of clothes, but she had left no residue of herself. Her bag didn’t even look full and it was as if she had never stepped foot inside—apart from the painting, that was.
She walked back through the vast studio. At what point had the picture-covered brick walls, the cavernous empty space, the mezzanine bedroom begun to feel like home? Hope took one last look around; nothing would induce her to return.
Gael certainly wasn’t going to make the effort. He was leaning by the window, a beer in one hand, looking out at the skyline. He barely turned as she walked by.
‘I guess I’ll see you at the wedding,’ Hope said finally, glad that her voice didn’t wobble despite the treacherous tears threatening to break through the wall she was erecting brick by painful brick.
‘I guess.’
She pressed the lift button, praying it wouldn’t take too long. ‘Bye, then.’
He looked up then. ‘Hope?’
Her namesake flared up then, bright and foolish. ‘Yes?’
‘You deserve more. You should go and find it. Believe it.’
She nodded slowly as the flare died down as if it had never been, leaving only a bitter taste of ashes in her mouth. ‘You’re right, Gael. I do deserve better. See you around.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘DO I LOOK OKAY?’
Gael turned to see Hunter pull at his tie, trying to fix it so it was perfectly aligned, pulling at the knot with nervous fingers until it tightened into a small, crumpled heap. Otherwise he looked like a young man on the cusp of a life-changing moment, shoulders broad in the perfectly cut suit, eyes bright and excited and a new maturity in his boyish face.
‘Here,’ Gael said gruffly, trying to hide the pride in his voice. ‘Let me.’
He had taught Hunter how to tie a tie in the first place, how to ride a bike, how to swim. He’d bought him his first beer and listened through his first infatuations. And now his little brother was moving on without him, going forward, past Gael into a whole new life. ‘There you go.’ He stood back and surveyed him. ‘I don’t know what Faith sees in you but you’ll do.’
Hunter still looked pale but he managed a smile. ‘She’s wonderful, isn’t she? I don’t know what I did to deserve her. I’m the luckiest man alive.’
He really believed it too; there was sincerity in every syllable. All credit to Misty for bringing up such a decent young man. Gael had known plenty of men with lesser looks, lesser pedigrees and lesser fortunes who prowled the earth believing themselves young gods. Hunter genuinely didn’t believe his face, name or income made him any better than anyone else—it just made him work harder to prove he deserved his privilege. Gael had only met Faith once briefly, two days ago after her afternoon with her new mother-in-law, but had quickly decided that either she was the world’s best actress or as genuinely besotted by Hunter as he was with her.
He had hoped to see Hope, to try and make some kind of amends so that the next few days wouldn’t be too awkward, but Hope hadn’t been with her sister. He hadn’t seen her since she’d walked away without a backwards glance. Not since he’d allowed her to. It was better for them to be apart; they both knew it. So why that bitter twist of disappointment when Faith had announced that her sister had gone shopping—and why this even more twisty and unwelcome anticipation as he savoured the knowledge that in just an hour’s time she would be by his side?
They were both adults. They had spent two enjoyable weeks together. She had inspired him to create one of the best paintings he had ever done, even if it wasn’t exactly what he’d set out to paint; he was thinking of calling it Atlas—because she looked as if she were carrying all the cares in the world on her slim shoulders. They could meet to celebrate this wedding as friends, surely? But when he thought of her in that wedding dress, glowing, when he thought of her lying on the chaise, posed and perfect, when he thought of her in his bed, then ‘as friends’ seemed a cold and meagre ambition.
But what was the alternative? Ask her out properly? They had said everything that needed to be said; he knew her more intimately than some men knew their wives of fifty years. How could he go from that to the kind of dating he did? The kind of dating he was capable of? Premieres, dinners in places to be seen, superficial and short-lived. He couldn’t but he knew no other way.
He didn’t want to know any other way. Because his way couldn’t go wrong. It ended without tears, without acrimony, without devastation. It was safe. There was nothing safe about Hope and the way he was with her—harsh, unyielding, pushy. He wanted too much from her and she let him demand it. But, oh, how he liked it when he surprised her; her face when he had laid out all the different tubs of ice cream. Like a small child set loose in a toy store. She almost made him believe he could be the kind of man who lived a different way. Almost.
He pushed the thought away. Today wasn’t about him and, despite his attempts to deny kinship, he was proud that Hunter had asked him to stand by his side. ‘You ready?’
Hunter nodded. ‘I was ready the first day,’ he said simply. ‘I saw her walking towards me and I just knew.’
Gael’s mind instantly flashed back to the moment he had first seen Hope. What had he known? Surprise that she wasn’t the woman he was expecting, yes. Annoyance at the delay in his plans? Absolutely. Recognition? He would like to deny it but something had made him keep her there, manipulate the situation so she stayed with him. He didn’t want to dwell too much on what his reasons might have been. He attempted humour instead. ‘Knew she was hot?’
‘Knew she was the one for me. I was prepared to learn Czech or German or French, whatever I had to do to talk to the girl with eyes like stars—you can imagine my relief when I discovered she was English! Not that it would have made any difference whatever nationality she was. We would have found a way to communicate.’
‘Hunter, you’ve known her what, two months? And it’s not like your mom has had the best track record with the whole happy-ever-after thing. Are you sure you’re not rushing into things?’
‘Man, I am totally rushing into marrying Faith. Full pelt. I just know that she’s the one for me and I’m the one for her and I can’t wait to get started on our adventures together. As for Mom? She’d be the first to say she never listened to her heart. She didn’t trust it not to lead her astray so she married strategically, for fun, for friendship—and then ended up divorced anyway.’
When had Hunter got so wise? Gael straightened his own tie, unable to look the younger man in the eye. ‘I don’t know what a good marriage is. What makes a relationship worth fighting for.’ The confession felt wrought out of him and he turned slightly so that Hunter wouldn’t be able to see his expression.
‘I think it’s when you trust someone completely and their happiness means more to you than your own—and when you know that they feel exactly the same way. You balance each other out, make the other person safe.’
Balance. What had he said to Hope? That marriage was about power? Hunter was saying the same thing only he saw it as a positive thing. That allowing someone else the power just made you stronger. Gael was almost light-headed as he tried to work it out. But looking at Hunter, so happy and so confident, he couldn’t help but wonder if he possessed a knowledge Gael just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand.
He didn’t have much time to dwell on his stepbrother’s words as the next hour was a flurry of activity, first meeting up with Hunter’s father and the two friends the groom had invited to this small, intimate celebration, and then they had to make their way to Central Park and the little lakeside glade where Hunter and Faith would be making their vows. Hunter didn’t seem at all nervous, laughing and joking with his friends and patiently listening to all his father’s last-minute advice—and who knew? Maybe Hunter’s father did know what he was talking about because not only had he stayed good friends with Misty but he had clocked up fifteen years with his current wife, a record amongst all the parental figures in Hunter’s and Gael’s lives.
In no time at all they were at the lake, which had been made ready according to Hope’s detailed instructions; a few chairs had been arranged in a semicircle either side of the little rustic shelter under which Hunter and Faith would make their vows. White flowers were entwined in the shelter and yellow and white rose petals were scattered on the floor. All against Central Park’s stringent regulations but the Carlyle name had persuaded the officials that an exception could be made.
Gael looked up at the cloudless sky and smiled; somehow Hope had even persuaded the weather to comply and the rain and wind which sometimes heralded the beginning of September had stayed away. Hunter’s father and friends took their places while Gael stood beside his brother at the entrance to the pavilion, making polite conversation with the official who was conducting the short service. But what he said he hardly knew. In just a few minutes he would see her—and the spell her absence had cast would be broken. She’d walked away before he had decided it was time. That was all this sense something was amiss was. Nothing more.
He turned as he heard feminine voices, his heart giving a sudden lurch, but it wasn’t Hope, merely a group of hot-looking women dressed in bright, formal clothes, fanning themselves and giggling as they took their seats. They were accompanied by one harried-looking elderly gentleman who breathed a sigh of relief as he took in the other men. Hope’s uncle must have felt fairly overwhelmed by all the womenfolk he had spent the last three days escorting around the city.
He took a brief headcount as Misty wafted in, looking as elegant and cool as ever. The five men in Hunter’s party, Misty, the bride’s uncle and aunt and four young women who must be her two cousins and two friends. They were all here except for the bride herself—and her bridesmaid. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. It had been a brief fling, that was all. He bumped into old flames all the time and didn’t usually turn a hair. There should be nothing different this time.
Shouldn’t be and yet there was.
And then the string quartet, placed just out of sight around the curve in the path, struck up and the small congregation rose to their feet and turned as one. Every mouth smiled, every eye widened, many dampening as Faith floated towards them in the ethereal designer dress Hope had chosen for her beloved sister. Her hair was twisted into loose knots with curls falling onto her shoulders, she carried a small posy of yellow and white roses and her eyes were fixed adoringly on her groom. But Gael barely took any of it in, all his attention on the shorter woman by her side. Faith had asked her sister, the person who had raised her, to walk her down the aisle both today and for the blessing in two days’ time.
Gael was the only person there who knew how much this gesture cost Hope. How touched she was but also how full of grief that their father wasn’t there to do it—and that she would be symbolically relinquishing the last of her immediate family to someone else. That the moment she stepped back she truly would be alone.
His chest swelled with empathic grief because although her full mouth was curved in a proud smile and her carriage straight her eyes were full of tears and the hand holding a matching posy was shaking slightly.
Hope’s hair was also tied up in a loose knot with a cream ribbon looped around, contrasting with the darkness of the silky tresses. She wore a knee-length twenties-style dress in a slightly darker shade than her sister’s soft golden cream; she was utterly beautiful, utterly desirable. Damn. That wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for at all.
Hope looked up as if she could feel the weight of his gaze. Her lips quivered before her eyelashes fell again. Look at me, Gael urged her silently. Let me work out what’s happening here. But his silent plea fell flat and although she smiled around at the gathered audience she didn’t look at him directly again, not once.
* * *
The day was at once eternal and yet it passed in a flash. One moment Hope was kissing her sister’s cheek, knowing that this was the last time she would be her next of kin, her first confidante, her rock, the next she was listening as Hunter promised to take care of Faith for ever.
She believed him. They were absurdly young but there was a determination and clearness amidst the starry-eyed infatuation that made her think that maybe they had a shot at making it work. Faith had grown up so much it was impossible to take in that the sisters had only been apart for three and a half months.
They moved seamlessly from ceremony to drinks, from drinks to the boat, which dreamily sailed around Manhattan in a gentle ripple of sparkling waters and blue skies before the cars took them to the now shut Met for a VIP tour followed by dinner. Now, at the end of the day, they were back at the speakeasy, reserved exclusively for the wedding party until midnight; there had been a last-minute panic when Hope realised that Faith’s age meant she would be unable to enter the premises if it was open to the public. The bar didn’t usually do private parties but a quiet word from Gael had ensured their cooperation; she wouldn’t have been able to organise half of the day without him. He knew exactly who to speak to, how to get the kind of favours Hope McKenzie from Stoke Newington wouldn’t have had a cat in hell’s chance of landing. She should say thank you.
She should say something. They had been in the same small group of people for ten hours and somehow avoided exchanging even one word. She should tell him that he was wrong about her, that when it mattered she would always stand up for herself; she should tell him that, uncomfortable as his painting made her, she still recognised what a privilege it was to be immortalised that way. She should thank him for all his help with the wedding. She should tell him that two weeks with him had changed her life.
But she didn’t know where to begin. She was just so aware of him. They could blindfold her and she would still reach unerringly for him. She knew how he tasted, she knew how his skin felt against hers. She knew what it felt like to have every iota of his concentration focussed on her. How did people do it? Carry this intimate knowledge of another human being around with them? She hadn’t expected this bond, not without love.
Because of course she didn’t love him. That would be foolish and Hope McKenzie didn’t do foolishness. She wasn’t like her sister; she couldn’t just entrust her heart and happiness to somebody else. Especially somebody who didn’t want either and wouldn’t know what to do with them even if he did.
The sound of a spoon tapping on a glass recalled her thoughts to the here and now and, as the room hushed, she looked up to see Faith balancing precariously on a chair, her cheeks flushed.
‘Attention,’ her sister called as the group clapped and whistled. ‘Bride speaking.’
Hope slid her glance over to Gael and, as
she met his eyes, quickly looked away, her chest constricting with the burden of just that brief contact.
‘I know we’re doing speeches on Saturday,’ Faith said when she had managed to quieten the room. ‘So you’ll be glad to hear this isn’t a speech. Not a long one anyway. I just wanted to say thank you to my big sister.’
Hope started as everyone turned their attention from Faith to her. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, cursing her sister as she met the many smiles with a forced one of her own. Faith knew how much she hated attention.
‘There are so many thank-yous I owe her that I could keep you here all night and not finish. Most of you know that Hope raised me after our parents died. You might not know that she gave up her place at university to do it, that she planned to study archaeology and travel the world, instead she became a PA and worried about bills and balanced meals and cooking cakes for the PTA bake sale. She refused to touch the money our parents left us, raising me on her salary—and I never did without. It was only recently that I realised that while I didn’t go without, Hope often did. But she never made me feel like a burden. She always made me feel loved and secure and like I could be or do anything.’ Faith’s voice broke as she finished that sentence and Hope felt an answering lump in her own throat, a telltale heat burning in her eyes.
She heard a gulp of a sob from her aunt and a murmur from Misty but her eyes were fixed on her sister. The two of them against the world one last time.
‘She gave me this amazing day, the best wedding day a girl could have asked for, with only two weeks’ notice. She has always, always put me first. Now it’s time she put herself first and I am so happy that she’s decided to quit her job and go travelling.’
‘What?’ Hope wasn’t sure if anyone else heard Gael’s muffled exclamation as the room erupted into applause. ‘I know she can afford to do it by herself but, Hope, I hope you will accept this from Hunter and me.’ Faith held out an envelope. ‘It’s a round-the-world ticket and an account with a concierge who will organise all the visas and accommodation you need. It doesn’t even begin to pay you back for all you’ve done and all you are but I just want you to know how much I love you—and when Hunter and I start a family I just hope I can be half the mother you were to me.’ Faith was clambering off the chair as she spoke and the next minute the two girls were in each other’s arms, tears mingling as they held each other as if they would never let each other go. Only Hope knew as she kissed her sister’s hair that this was them letting go, this was where they truly moved on.
Unveiling the Bridesmaid Page 13
