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‘I don’t want her to go back to him, Sarah. I can’t give her up. At least not without a fight.’
She startles me when she speaks, her voice coming from right beside me. ‘Drew, I get the feeling it isn’t as simple as her having a husband she’s been hiding from you.’
With a sense of renewed purpose, I nod. ‘I need to talk to her.’
‘I was hoping you would come to that conclusion sooner rather than later.’ She moves to the sofa and reaches into her handbag. ‘Go and get cleaned up. You’ve got an early flight to catch.’
I take the envelope she’s holding out. ‘You booked me a flight to London?’
‘I know you better than you know yourself, Drew Harrington. She’s staying at Chateau Belmont, where Edmond’s restaurant is.’
23
DREW
The good news is, by the time I get to Chateau Belmont, I’ve slept off my hangover. The bad news is, now that I’m sober, I’m wondering what in the hell I’m doing here. I came for an explanation. I came to fight. But what if I’m too late? What if there’s nothing to fight for?
I follow a bellhop through the pillared entrance of the hotel. The inside is even more grand than out. Black and white floor tiles gleam. Green marble pillars hold up the high ceilings. Everything is mahogany and trimmed in gold. The place smells of polish and vanilla all at once. I’d expect nothing less luxurious from the hotel that’s home to Edmond’s restaurant.
‘Good evening, sir. May I help you?’
The porter stands behind me with my luggage as I check in with a suited woman who has immaculately combed hair and insanely red, painted lips.
‘Our concierge will take your bags to your room, sir. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please do let me know.’
‘Actually, there is one thing. Can you tell me which room Becky Fletcher is staying in? She used to work here, in the restaurant. I’m… a friend from New York.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m not at liberty to share that information with you. I’m afraid it is hotel policy.’
Hotels and their damn adherence to rules. ‘Fine. Could you at least get a message to her for me?’
She smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. ‘Of course, sir. Would you like to write it down?’
She hands me a note pad and a pen. I hover the pen over the paper, not having a clue what I’m here to say. Except…
I’m here.
I want to know everything. I’ll be waiting in the bar.
Drew
I nudge the note toward the receptionist, my heart hammering in my chest, my palms hot.
Will she come? If she comes, what will she tell me?
Jesus, I could lose her for good. Maybe I already have.
As I sit at the bar, nursing my first scotch, needing to kill my nerves but remembering too well how my body ached from the after effects of the same taste just hours ago, it occurs to me more than once that I might have lost my mind. I’ve chased a woman halfway across the world, and I have no idea what to say to her or what she might say to me. I keep thinking about the way she looked at me when I saw her husband. She gave nothing away. She looked sorry, sure, but she didn’t necessarily look like she wanted to be with me instead of him. She didn’t tell me in that look that she didn’t want to be with him.
Was her telling Sarah that she was in London a message to me? Was it a cry for help, or was she telling me we are over? Were we ever more than friends in her mind?
It’s nine on the dot when I lean my wrist toward the bar lamp and check my watch. I order a second scotch on the rocks and wait.
To everyone else, I must just look like a man sitting in slacks, his shirt tucked in beneath his jacket, having a drink. Normal. I feel anything but normal. I feel like a nervous wreck.
As if I’m tuned in to her presence, I sense her before I see her. I take a slow breath to calm the anxiety running through my blood and making me dizzy, and I turn on my stool. Her hair is pulled across one shoulder. Her gray dress is elegant and plain yet hugs every curve of her body. Her black heels make her already fine legs to die for.
Her lips are straight, once again telling me nothing, as she walks toward me. I get off the stool and look down at her slightly, despite her heels.
