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“About that so-called confrontation you had with Andrew Forrester at the Warren nightclub earlier this year. You weren’t really fighting over a girl were you?”
I roll my eyes even though Gemma can’t see them from the front seat. “No, we weren’t. I went with a friend of mine to the launch party. She designed the club and I wanted to help her out by using my name to give her and the launch as much exposure as I could. That really backfired on me,” I admit, rubbing my aching jaw.
“You could say that,” Gemma giggles.
“Well how was I to know she hated being in the press? Most people love that crap! Sydney never told me who she was!” I hate having to explain myself, somewhat put out by Gemma making fun of me for my good intentions. “I also had no idea she was dating that bastard Forrester.”
“Hmmmm, I guess the media got one thing right.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“That you
and Andrew Forrester really do hate each other.”
“Yeah, we do, he’s the one who gave me this,” I say pointing at my face. Her eyes practically bulge out of her head but she thankfully doesn’t say anything. Zane glances up from his mobile at me for a quick second, then turns back to his typing.
We’re back on the road within thirty minutes of arriving at the hotel. I manage a quick shower to wash off the airplane stench and change into a nice suit, no tie. I’ve been assured that the event isn’t very formal. Zane decided to stay behind at the hotel while Gemma drives us the short distance to our destination.
Gemma is making me laugh by telling me a story about Ellie. We weave through the city streets towards Kew Gardens, which coincidentally, is right across the Thames from the Warren Hotel where Ellie and I met up last and where I’m staying again on this trip. I even booked the same room. Apparently I’m a sentimental bastard, I just never knew it until now.
I was at this Warren hotel in July for another nightclub launch since I was already in London to work on an album for a movie soundtrack. That time, I was too depressed to stay at the hotel, since I thought Ellie still hated me. I did anything I could to keep the memories from eating away at me, and staying at the Warren would have brought up a bunch of them.
“Here we are,” Gemma says as she pulls the car into the main entrance to the gardens and parks in front of a gorgeous old brick residence.
Panic floods my body and I have to keep reminding myself that this is Ellie, and Gemma has assured me that she wants me as much as I want her. Otherwise, my racing heart might actually detonate in my chest. I swallow and wipe my sweaty hands on the seat as I reach for the door handle.
“Christ!” I shout, jerking in my seat.
“What?” Gemma shrieks in surprise next to me. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry, my phone, it just buzzed in my pants. Scared the crap out of me.” I sheepishly show her my phone.
“Jesus Adam! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Gemma slaps me in the arm as I fumble to answer the phone.
“Ellie?” I ask after hearing the voice on the other end.
Gemma gives me a shocked look and mouths, “I didn’t tell her, I swear.”
She steps out of the car to give me privacy while I speak to Ellie.
“Adam? It’s really you?” she sobs.
“Yes Sweetheart. How did you get my number?” My heart is no longer in danger of exploding, now it feels as if it might come to a complete stop.
“Dax. I got it from Dax. I saw Liam the other day. I’ve been trying to get the courage to call him and ask for your number. He said you’re not in L.A. with him.” Her soft voice is trembling.
“I’m not, where are you?” I ask, even though I already know exactly where she is.
She sniffs and laughs a little before answering. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.” I can’t contain the smile on my face as I get out of the car and walk up the path towards the brick cottage. Gemma must have already gone inside.
“I’m at Kew Gardens. My mum is getting married today, to her boss.” I hear muffled words. “Hold on, I’m stepping outside.”
I look up and see her. She’s exiting the cottage, one hand covering her ear, the other holding the phone up. She looks radiant, her blonde hair in a loose up-do that’s being tousled by the soft breeze, the blue dress she’s wearing is clinging to her curves just enough to be sexy but covering enough skin to be suitable for a fall wedding.
“Look to your left,” I whisper, now only a few feet away.
