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“Eight, just past,” he said as he consulted his watch. He held out themug.
“Remind me to get your coffee from the car. It’s been in there fordays.”
I took a sip, although coffee wasn’t my normal morning drink. “Will it still beokay?”
“Sure, if not, we’ll just getmore.”
He sat on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or text. I had some family drama to deal with. It messed up mymind.”
“That’s okay, I got a little worried. About you, not about theweekend.”
“Talking about this party, we leave in an hour,” he said with asmile.
“I bought a card, you’ll have to tell me whose party itis.”
“No need for cards. I paid for the party, that’s enough of agift.”
He stood. “I found pastries,” he said, as he left theroom.
I placed the mug of coffee on the side and headed for the shower. I tied my hair in a bun on top of my head to save it from getting wet. It didn’t appear we had the time for me to wash and blow dry it. Once showered, I pulled on some underwear, jeans, and buttoned up a shirt. I grabbed a jumper, some socks and my Converse, and then headed to thekitchen.
While I sat at the kitchen table eating a pastry, I pulled on my socks andshoes.
“Where are we going?” Iasked.
“Sussex Coast. I thought we could stop for lunch, there’s an old pub in Rye, then relax for a couple of hours before theparty.”
“Sounds like a nice idea, thank you for inviting me. Do you have to go home forclothes?”
“No, I have enough clean from mytrip.”
We chatted throughout the journey, but once again I noticed that evasiveness when I got too personal. He hadn’t mentioned the family drama and I didn’t ask. He was happy to talk about his businesses but anything else had me feeling like I was intruding. Once again, I questioned exactly what thisthingwas that was going on betweenus.
We stopped at The George Inn, an old pub in Rye, for lunch. Although I’d visited Rye before, I’d never been inside that pub. It was quaint, with little annex rooms and open fireplaces. I learned it was also a hotel and vowed I’d return to stay there one day. I could picture myself curled up on one of the sofas in the little nooks, reading in front of an open fire with a glass ofwine.
Once lunch was done, we continued our journey to thehotel.
The hotel we arrived at was a large manor house, set in beautifully manicured grounds. Mackenzie pulled the car to the front entrance and popped a button for the boot to open. A porter collected the bags and loaded them onto a trolley. We followed him in to reception, where Mackenzie handed over his car keys to allow them to park it. He checked us in; it was as he’d collected the key and we started for the lift, I heard his name beingcalled.
“Gabriella,” he said, and I watched the broad smile he’d given her spread across hisface.
“I wasn’t expecting you this early,” she said in an American accent as she strodeover.
Jerry was correct; she was stunning. Tall, blonde, manicured, and I was immediately thankful when she caught sight of me and smiled somemore.
“Lauren, it’s great to finally meet you. I’m thrilled you’re able to join us tonight,” she said. I detected a Southernaccent.
I stepped forward and held out my hand, she ignored it and pulled me into a hug, Ilaughed.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I said, once she’d releasedme.
I wondered what kind of conversation Mackenzie had with her, she’d saidfinallyas if she’d been expecting to meet me beforethen.
“You look exhausted,” she said toMackenzie.
“I am,” hereplied.
“Go and rest, we're not doing business this weekend. It’s all about me,” she said, exaggerating heraccent.
