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Lottie’s eyes flick to him in worry, but I place a reassuring hand on her leg, which she stops bouncing then pushes me off.
“I’ve never seen Corton so in love. I’m glad someone as beautiful as Lottie has managed to tie him down.” Barry winks at Lottie, her cheeks reddening, and it makes me remember that night where I made them blush bright red. When I fucked her and told her all the dirty things I wanted to do to her.
“To you both. I wish you nothing but the best.”
I raise my glass, and so does Lottie.
Everyone cheers before we look out and see her father standing.
“Lottie, I love you. You are one of my greatest achievements.” I turn to look to her and notice she’s smiling, but it’s forced. You can only tell if you look closely enough, and I’ve gotten to see this reaction often. “I’m happy you found a man who’s brave enough to tame you and handle you, because you need it, maybe the age difference will help.” He chuckles, making everyone else but myself and Lottie do the same. He goes quiet, raising his glass while staring at me. “Treat her well, Whiskey. She’s yours now. Welcome to the family.” He sits back down, and I turn to Lottie. Her hand touches the glass of champagne in front of her, but she doesn’t lift it. It’s as if her hand is frozen.
Leaning in close, I say, “You can drink it, you know.”
Lottie’s eyes, which are full of fire, turn to me. “And let you take advantage of me again? No, thank you, very much.” Her hand reaches for the water as everyone starts eating. She doesn’t touch her food.
“Do you plan to make this difficult?” I ask, leaning in close so no one else can hear.
She turns into me, her mouth coming close to my ear so no one can see or hear what she’s about to say. “I hate you. Hate you. This isn’t my thing. This is just one more thing a man is making me do. Fuck you!” When she pulls away Lottie smiles elegantly. She waves to the waiter to take her food and reaches for the dessert plate instead. I watch as she eats a slice of Bavarian Black Forest gâteau, then she proceeds to take mine too.
“Hey, asshole.” Leaning over, Emma’s looking my way. She’s sitting right next to Lottie who’s too transfixed on her gâteau, so she doesn’t pay either of us attention. “Think you can call this shit display off anytime soon? I want to go home, and I need Lottie with me.”
“She’s staying here tonight.”
The fork Lottie has in her hand pauses at her mouth.
“Actually, a mover will arrive tomorrow to collect all her possessions. You’ll be in this house for a year starting from today.”
Lottie’s fork drops heavily onto her plate, and she looks to me, that perfect smile in place not showing how mad she is, while everyone looks up at the noise. They all go back to what they were doing quickly after she says, “Sorry.” Then she turns to me and whispers, “We’re starting this tonight? I don’t get one last night in my own home? I should have figured you take that last shred of happiness from me.”
I don’t answer her. Instead, I stand.
“Thank you all for coming. I would like to announce here to you all tonight before you leave, please stop by the cake table to grab your invitation to the wedding. It will be held in two weeks.” Then I sit back down.
“You… c-can’t.”
“I just did.”
Guests stay and mingle a little longer than necessary. Lottie stays rooted to her chair the entire evening. Seated next to me looking at her champagne but never touching it.
She thinks I would do something again while she was drunk. I didn’t actually fully plan our last one, but she hasn’t asked either what I do for work.
When she knows I think she will work it out.
Plus, I don’t think she really paid much attention that night to things around us, just us.
That night will forever haunt me, not only because it was fucking perfect. But I have a feeling no other woman would ever compete.
“Guests are leaving, your parents look ready to come over.” She straightens at that, and instead of watching them I watch her. Her hair throughout the night has fallen down. Or she pulled it out, either way it looks beautiful. I can smell the faint vanilla; it must be the shampoo she uses.
“Two weeks, that was a surprise,” her father says. “Whiskey, it’s been so long since we have actually spoken business, I think we should soon. What do you say?”
“Yes, I will get my assistant to ring yours.” Her father’s eyes fall to Lottie’s; her green eyes match his.
“Goodnight, let me know how much you need, and I will pay.”
“I plan to cover the wedding,” I remind him. “As you stated, Lottie’s now my responsibility. I’m fortunate enough to be able to take on these costs. I just ask that you join us and enjoy yourselves.”
“It’s what the father of the bride does,” her mother chimes in.
