Deliciously British

by Scarlett Avery

  “So I’ll miss everything? Even though I was part of making things happen?” I sound desperate, but what other choice do I have?

  “I’m so sorry, honey.” Ashley looks truly remorseful, which only makes this worse because this anger brewing inside me isn’t directed at her. “If it’s any consolation, I can definitely make sure you’re on the invitation list. You’re more than welcome to come if you’re still in the city.”

  Too bad for me, my daddy doesn’t have Mr. Walcott’s wealth. “I can’t afford to stay in London without a job.” That sucks big time because I worked really hard on that project.

  Ashley reaches out across her desk. “Give me your hands, Delilah.” I look at her, confused. “Come on,” she commands, waving at me. Reluctantly I move my hands from my lap and slide them across the desk until they’re touching hers. She squeezes them hard and offers me a warm smile. “We’re not going anywhere with this conversation. I don’t have all the answers and I won’t until I meet with Mr. Walcott—”

  “When is he back?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Oh, yeah, you said that.” This is too much to handle. I can’t remember all the details.

  “Listen, honey, it’s already mid-afternoon,” Ashley says. “Why don’t you go home, take a long bath and just relax? Maybe stop by your go-to takeaway spot for your favorite meal? I’m not a psychotherapist, but dessert might be your best friend tonight. I’m a big fan of high-calorie chocolate desserts laced with whipped cream and drizzled with caramel when I’m having a particularly shitty day. Maybe that will help you?” My eyes widened. I’m surprised by her comment. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t see how devastated you are. I don’t blame you. This is a hard pill to swallow because it’s so sudden. My hands are tied, but I care about you. A lot, in fact. I want to make sure that you’re okay for as long as you’ll be under my employment. That said, I don’t think that you being here for the rest of the afternoon is going to do you any good. If there’s anything urgent, I’ll make sure Constance covers for you. You can pick up where you left off tomorrow—”

  “Will you know for sure on Wednesday when I’ll have to leave?” I interrupt her. I know she’s trying to be nice, but if my world is about to unravel, I need a plan B.

  “Yes.” Her answer is so definite. “Mr. Walcott and I have a meeting at three o’clock in the afternoon. He can’t be here any sooner because his day is jam-packed with prior engagements. This thing with his daughter wasn’t part of his schedule, so he had to move a few appointments around to be at the gallery. I insisted on us giving you a firm answer before the end of the day on Wednesday because I don’t want you to have to live in limbo for longer than that.”

  So on Wednesday the ax falls. “Okay. Thanks. At least it’ll give me time to warn my roommate Jackie and find a reasonably priced flight back to America. Also I’ll need to find a temporary place to live in New York since I’ve been subletting my apartment and I can’t just ask the person living there to move out on such short notice.” My stomach clenches at those words. The finality of it all is just too overwhelming.

  “Of course, honey. You’re going to have to juggle one million little details over the next few weeks that you normally would have had time to deal with in a more orderly fashion.”

  And I’m sure my heart wouldn’t weigh this heavy. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Now, will you take my advice?” Ashley asks.

  I nod. “I doubt I’ll be of any use here. I think you’re right, it’s best if I go home.” Sometimes in life you have to know when to capitulate.

  * * *

  I didn’t go home after I left the gallery. I couldn’t. I walked aimlessly around the city until my feet hurt too much to take another step. Now, as nighttime falls upon the city, I decide to retreat back to the apartment. I have just enough energy to stop by the grocery store to load up on misery emergency food—aka vanilla ice cream, hot fudge chocolate syrup, bourbon, milk and a bag of ice. Along with taking Ashley’s advice to end my day early, I also decided to drown my sorrow in chocolate and heavy cream, but I’m adding booze to the mix. Maggie and I have made this recipe so many times to get over heartbreaks. In this case, I’m not depressed because a guy broke up with me. I’m despondent because I’ll soon be forced to leave behind a wonderful relationship. I have no appetite for food, but my mind and my soul desperately need alcohol. A lot of it.

  When I get back to my place, I quickly get out of my work clothes. I peel off layers as I walk from the entrance to my bedroom. I don’t have to give a damn because I’m alone tonight. Jackie isn’t set to show her face for the next few days. With all of the recent woes over his son, Nathan put his foot down and sent his teenage boy back to the kid’s mom for a few days so that he can spend some quality time with his girlfriend.

  Once I’ve slipped into baggy clothing, I head straight to the kitchen. I pull out the blender and place it on the counter. I walk to the shopping bags that I left on the kitchen table and ready myself to pull out the ice cream when my heart constricts so much I have to clutch it with my free hand. I know I’m not having a heart attack. I’m too young for that. I’m still trying to deal with my misfortune. In that moment, I realize that if I don’t talk to someone, I’m going to die.

  I leave the bourbon on the table, place the ice cream and ice in the freezer and shove all the other ingredients in the fridge. I slam the door shut with my butt and run back to the living room where I left my handbag. I pull out my phone and look at the time. Three o’clock. Shit. Even though I know the odds are stacked against me given it’s the middle of the day in New York, I still call for help. I pace around the living room, mentally counting the number of times the phone rings. When it reaches number three, I’m about to hang up when my cousin Maggie picks up.

  “Dee, honey, I’m in a meeting. I just stepped out for a second,” she whispers in the phone. “I was about to let it go to voicemail, but something told me to pick up since you didn’t forewarn me that you’d be in touch today. What’s up?”

  “I’m so sorry to bother you. I shouldn’t have called—”

  “What are you talking about? We’re best friends. We call each other just because. Usually you text me so I’m expecting your call.”

  “Sounds like you’re in the middle of something important. This can wait.”

  “What can wait?” she asks carefully.

  I’m about to say, “Nothing,” but change my mind. “It’s big.” My voice breaks.

  “Did something happen between you and—”

  “No. Everything is pretty amazing on that front.” I jump in because I know she’s at work and I don’t want her to get in trouble.

  “Then what is it?” she presses.

  “It’s going to take more than five minutes to explain.”

  “Okay, this definitely doesn’t sound like a light and fluffy subject. I’ll be done in about half an hour. Can you wait that long?”

  Tears roll down my face. I wipe them away with the back of my hand. I take a deep breath in and do my best to steady my voice before answering her. “Yes.” If I say much more, she’ll know I’m crying and she’ll drop everything to comfort me. Her job is too important for me to jeopardize it like that.

  “Good. Whatever it is, I’ve got your back. And don’t forget, you now have your boys.” She laughs. If she only knew.

  “All right, I’ll be glued to my phone and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Wait,” she exclaims. “You’re scaring me, Dee.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Your voice is so flat. It’s completely lifeless. It’s so unlike you. You’re usually like that when you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. I just referred to your guys. Remember, your boyfriends.” She whispers that last part. “And you didn’t make a comment. You kind of brushed it off like I hadn’t said anything. I know I can’t allow my voice to carry, but I’m pretty sure you heard me.” I can tell she’s ticked off.


  “Like I said, it’s big.”

  Maggie doesn’t answer immediately. Since we’re not on video, I can’t see her expression, but I’m pretty sure that her eyebrows are knitted together in worry. After a few brief seconds she says, “Mondays are particularly batty here and I already know that all the conference rooms are booked until the early part of the evening. Once I’m done with my meeting, I’ll head to the park across the street so that I can have a little privacy. I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but know this, we’ll get through this together. I love you.”

  “Ditto.” Knowing Maggie, she’ll stress out over the next half hour racking her brain trying to figure out what I’m going through. Of course, she’ll never be able to guess. Eventually her mind will focus on work again. One word from me would derail her completely. That wouldn’t be fair to her.

  “I have to go now, Dee.”

  “I understand. I’ll talk to you soon.” I hang up and just stare at my phone. Now I really need that drink.

  * * *

  “Whoever invented this soul-soothing drink is a freaking genius,” I say aloud, slurping my second serving. The creamy drink laced with booze has definitely taken the edge off. I’m not shit-faced—yet—but I’m not hurting nearly as much as I was when I walked through the door. I get up to prepare a third drink when the distinctive Skype ringtone chimes in. I sit back down on the couch and immediately accept the video call. “Hey, you’re done with your meeting?”

  “Yes. I got out of there as fast as I could.” I can tell Maggie’s outside from the foliage behind her and the noise. “I have another hour before my next meeting. I’ll stay later tonight to catch up. On a different note, your voice sounds noticeably cheerier. Did you sort things out on your own?” Maggie asks.

  “Nope. There is no happy resolution for me. It’s a doomed situation. I just have to suck it up like a big girl because there’s nothing I can do about it.” I let out a half laugh.

  She brings her phone closer to her face and squints. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Damn right. Hot fudge bourbon milkshakes always hit the spot. It’s the only way I’ll survive this.”

  “But I thought things were peachy sweet with the Brits.”

  “Yup.”

  “So what are you trying to numb with that drink?”

  “There’s a shitload I’d love to forget right now. This is the quickest way I can think of. There’s no law against me drinking this even if I’m not dealing with man trouble.” I laugh.

  “Delilah Belle Babcock, what the hell are you talking about?” Maggie shouts. A man walking behind her does a double-take.

  “Hey, you jolted that guy walking behind you.” I laugh harder.

  “I swear, if you don’t start talking now, I’m going to reach through this screen and shake the heck out of you.”

  I sigh, lower my eyes for a beat and meet hers again. “Ashley has to end my contract early.”

  She stops dead in her tracks. “No way.” Maggie is visibly dumbfounded. “What happened? I thought you were supposed to stay in London until September.”

  “So did I. I learned the hard way today that sometimes people you don’t even know hold the steering wheel to your life. They’re in the driver’s seat and you’re sitting in the back seat.”

  “That sounded really heavy. Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Maggie suggests.

  Over the next half hour I tell my best friend everything my boss told me. Through it all, I allow myself to finally cry. There’s nothing pretty about this meltdown. I’m bawling my eyes out and hiccupping throughout my story. On a few occasions, I have to stop and run to the bathroom to blow my nose and wipe away my tears. My makeup is a mess, but I’m too distraught to even care. When I’m done, Maggie simply stares at me for a long moment.

  Unable to withstand the silence, I speak. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I mean I just poured out my soul here.

  “You found out that the earth had opened under your feet six hours ago?” That’s not quite what I expected.

  “Uh, well, yes.”

  “Why did you wait so long to call me?” I can’t tell if she’s scolding me or not.

  “Originally, I promised myself that I wouldn’t even bring up this sad turn of events until Ashley and Mr. Walcott officially pull the plug and tell me when my last day in London will be. What’s the point of talking about something you can’t change, right?” I snort.

  “The point is that keeping that kind of weight on your chest doesn’t do you any good. Not to mention that if you can’t share that kind of nuclear bombshell with your best friend, there’s something really wrong with that picture. I can’t believe you were going to live with this bottled up inside you for the next two days. Hmph.” She purses her lips and shakes her head. She’s frowning at me in a very motherly way. Okay, she’s officially pissed off.

  “Maggie—”

  She lifts her hand up. “I’m not done with you yet.” All right. “If you’re only telling me now and you’re at your apartment, should I assume that Ethan and Xander are still in the dark?” She had to go there.

  “I haven’t told them.”

  “You haven’t told them yet or you’re just not going to tell them at all?”

  “The latter.” My voice is meek.

  “Why? They’re part of your life, Dee. They’re your boyfriends. You can’t just slip away. They need to know. They deserve that much. This is going to affect them as much as it affects you.” She’s definitely ripping me a new one. “This is the first time you’re with guys who are worth it,” she reminds me.

  “That’s exactly it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m afraid that once Ethan and Xander know, everything will change between us and what we once shared will turn into a pity party every time we see each other.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Maggie barks. “Unless I’m mistaken, you’re not a psychic. You have no way of knowing how they’ll react.”

  I’m taken aback by her reaction. “My heart is breaking. I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m afraid. I’m lost. I’m angry. I’m frustrated as hell.”

  Maggie let out a long sigh. “That’s why you have to tell them.”

  “I don’t know if I can—”

  “These men wanted a relationship with you, Dee. That means they’re in it for the good, the bad and the ugly. By withholding this fairly monumental crisis from them, you’re preventing them from stepping up to the plate. I might not know Ethan and Xander, but everything you’ve told me about them so far suggests they can take the heat.”

  I have no doubt that my boyfriends can take on any challenge life throws at them. “You’re right. This is more about me not being able to handle losing them so soon,” I confess.

  “Honey, if you only have two weeks left with them, why not live it to the fullest?” Her voice softens.

  “I guess,” I concede with a half-hearted shrug.

  “You can apply for another job in London. All hope isn’t lost.”

  “It takes months to get the work permit,” I retort. They’ll have moved on by then.

  “You guys can have a long-distance relationship,” Maggie says. I flash her an are-you-kidding-me-look. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but if all three of you want this bad enough, I’m sure it can work.” I can’t fathom that ever being a viable possibility. There’s a reason why people say, Out of sight, out of mind.

  “I get that you’re trying to help and be supportive, Maggie—”

  “I know how much you care about these two.”

  “I do. With all my heart.” Tears threaten again.

  “I also know you’ve fallen hard for them. You said so yourself and it shows every single time you talk about them.”

  I’m not even going to try to deny that. There’s no point. “Yes, I have. This is why this is killing me so much.”

  “Talk to them, honey,” Maggie cajoles.

  We re
main silent for a few long moments and then I realize she’s not budging from her position and maybe she’s right. “All right, you win—”

  “This has nothing to do with me. You’re happy for the first time in your life and I’m not about to stand here and allow you to forget that.” I’ve been told.

  “I definitely know I can’t broach this subject again tonight. Not twice in one evening. I doubt I’ll survive it. I’ll call them Wednesday after work. Even if my heart never accepts this gruesome reality, maybe by then my head will have.”

  “Promise?” she presses.

  “I promise,” I say firmly.

  CHAPTER 57

  Ethan

  Of all the potential clients from the auction, Marcus Paddington was the most insistent on meeting as soon as humanly possible. The worst part is that he wasn’t even at the auction. Just like Phillip Montgomery, Marcus hired Warren Turner to secure a few pieces on his behalf, but just like the wealthy sexagenarian, he came out empty-handed.

  Once Phillip was done shagging that eager woman wearing the skin-tight purple dress, he pulled out his phone and texted a few of his equally wealthy friends and acquaintances. When Marcus found out that I had walked away with the most paintings, he was relentless in his pursuit. The second I agreed to a meeting, he had his secretary book a table for a late lunch at the Michelin-starred Chesham restaurant at the Barons Court hotel in Knightsbridge. That address alone leaves little doubt that Marcus’ pockets are lined with money.

  Marcus is meeting me with Phillip. Since the auction didn’t quite pan out as these two had hoped, they want to have more control over things moving forward. Just like my clients in the South of France, Phillip and Marcus want to commission pieces for their collections. They aren’t interested in taking any chances at another auction just to watch the piece they have their hearts set on go to another investor.