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"You're scowling," my mother whispers in my ear.
"I'm not," I whisper back, but I glance around to see if anyone is watching.
"Yes, you are. Camille looks scared," she scolds me. She pinches my arm and then sits up straight, again.
I wince at her pinch and look across the table at Camille. She's watching me, her face is a mask of worry. I'm such an asshole. I'd totally forgotten she was here. She came all this way for the week and I’ve barely said a word to her tonight. I've been watching the door. I give her a lame smile and her smile brightens right away and she waggles her fingers at me in a wave. I return the idiotic gesture and pretend that I'm making a casual perusal of the crowd.
The rehearsal dinner is almost over and she hasn't shown up. Her family's here. I met them earlier, her two sisters. She and one of her sisters could be twins if Lilly had red hair. The other one is a tiny, curvy beauty. Her parents are a striking couple. Not just because their mother is black and their father is a freckled ginger who looks like he hasn't ever spent a minute in the sun. But, because they carry themselves with such an easy dignity. I know from that night in the lift that he spent more than a decade on the lam. But, they look like they've never spent a moment apart. Every time I've glanced at their table, they've been touching. Her sisters are both there with men who look as moon eyed over them as their father is over their mother. Cara told us that younger one, her best friend, is getting married this summer.
I look down the table to where my brother and his little blond pixie of a fiancé are sitting. My father's speaking, droning on as he recites our family history. He's been practicing this all day. He said he was determined to do it without notecards. It's not lost on me that three months ago, I should have been getting married. That this hall had been booked for my rehearsal dinner. And that he started writing the speech to toast Zara and me.
He's moving onto the modern history of the family and he looks as bored as most of the guests. People are on their phones, even my mother's given up and is playing Sudoku on her phone.
The scrape of the chairs and the loud shriek of a child’s laughter makes everyone look up. But that's not what draws my attention. It's the way the room’s energy becomes more frenetic and weighty.
She's there.
My eyes follow the little boy who's laughing as he runs to greet her. My eyes lift as she raises him up to eye level. And I gaze at her as she smiles up at him and I relish seeing her look so happy. Even if it’s not directed at me.
Just like the very first time I saw her, I’m riveted. Her hair's longer and darker now than it was when I met her. As always, she's covered from head to toe. Her turtleneck kisses the bottom her chin, the sleeves drape over her fingers. Her skintight leather pants hug her endlessly long legs and cup that ass...
"You're staring at her like she's a bag of silver and you're Judas Iscariot, Harry." My mother whispers and pinches me again.
"Ouch, Mum," I look at her and see an uncharacteristic tightness around her mouth. I'm instantly contrite.
"I'm sorry. I'll pay attention," I apologize and force my eyes to look back at my father.
"It's okay. She's beautiful. I understand. But, you've got a date. And so does she. Try to remember that," her voice is stern.
My eyes fly back to where Lilly was standing. She's not there, but walking toward the family's table. And there's a man walking with her. I was so absorbed in her when she walked in that I hadn't noticed him.
"Harry, what in the world is wrong with you? Everyone can see you," my mother whispers again.
I immediately look at Camille and she's watching me again, that anxious look on her face as her eyes dart to Lilly. I feel like the world's worst person. I won't look at Lilly one more time tonight.
24
Lilly
My head is pounding.
Harry has had his eyes on me all night. It’s taken a massive amount of effort to keep my face passive and my eyes from going where they desperately want to.
I want to get the fuck out of here. I start to lean over to tell Milly that I’m not feeling well, when the clinking of silverware on crystal champagne glasses draws my attention to the front of the room.
Harry’s standing up to give his Best Man’s speech. My desire to leave is extinguished.
It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him since I got here. It’s either been too awkward or painful. But everyone else is looking at him, too. So, there’s no one to catch me staring.
I drink him in. He looks amazing. Not miserable, like me.
His hair is cut short again, but just on the sides. His gorgeous dark brown waves spill onto his forehead. His heavy brow and refined features along with his aristocratic nose appeared in contradiction to his full lips.
“He’s rather stylish for a country Lord,” Aiden whispers.
I don’t respond, but internally, I completely agree. He’s wearing a gorgeous navy-blue suit; his white shirt is open just the collar and he looks effortlessly stylish.
When he starts to speak, he sounds happy. The way he had for most our time in Ghana. He hasn’t sounded like that once since I’ve been here. I'd close my eyes and let myself get lost in the cadence and texture of his voice.
