Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
HOLD MY CHAMPAGNE
Harlow
Guests are drinking champagne, huddled, and gossiping.
Not that I know what they’re saying. I can see them doing the first two, and since I’m a woman, I’m positive they’re doing the last. If I were invited to the wedding of the year and the bride didn’t show, that’s what I’d be doing.
Albert marched off out of sight with his family tight on his heels right after he read my note. I’m desperately counting on Devon Donnelly to keep the whole Humphries clan far away from me.
I have four missed calls from Janie and countless texts demanding to know what’s wrong.
The shrill peal of the suite phone cuts through the silence. I tear my attention from the spectacle I created and move through the space to see who will be first to demand that I change my mind.
It’s the front desk. I’ll take that any day over a Humphries for the rest of my life. “Hello?”
“Oh!” a woman I do not recognize greets me in surprise. “You’re there!”
“Who is this?” I ask.
“I’m sorry. So sorry, Ms. Madison. There’s been a flurry of activity since .
.. well, you know. Obviously, you know.” She lets out a dramatic breath.
And here I thought I was going through a tough spot.
The woman finally collects herself. “My name is Felicity Fahnestock. I manage the front desk. Your mother is trying to see you, but she doesn’t have a security card to get to the suites.
I need your permission to send her up. May I?
” She lowers her tone to a whisper. “Please?”
It's my turn to exhale a dramatic sigh. I do not want to see my stepmother, but the urge to protect poor Felicity from Janie is strong. “That’s fine. Send her up. I’m sorry if she’s being demanding.”
Felicity sounds relieved. “Wonderful. I mean, not wonderful … for you. Today has to be, well, you know... But of course you do. So … let me know if you need anything.”
I can tell she’s as anxious to get off the phone with me as she is to get rid of Janie, but I don’t let her hang up. “Actually, there is something you can do.”
“Of course. Anything to make your stay pleasurable. Wait, that’s not what I meant. I mean, whatever we can do to make the rest of your time at The Manor at Winslet comfortable and less agonizing as you go through this trying—”
If I don’t interrupt, Janie will be banging on my door before Felicity spits out all her words. “I need to extend my stay.”
“Oh.” Besides that one tiny word, Felicity goes silent, but I hear the tapping of a keyboard in the background.
“Please,” I add. “Given my change of circumstances, I’d like to stay. Winslet has always been like a second home to me. Book me for the unforeseeable future. I have nowhere else to go.”
That’s not completely true. I have plenty of places to go even though I sold my apartment.
My father has plenty of properties across the U.S.
, and the world for that matter, but the place in SoHo was mine.
I run the risk of Janie following me everywhere, no matter how much I might need to be alone right now.
If Janie hasn’t already lost her mind over my canceling the wedding, it’s only a matter of time until she comes unglued altogether. She’ll either be fraught with fear or rage. Honestly, it’ll be a crapshoot.
Felicity trips over her words. “Um, I’ll get back with you on that.”
I tell Felicity the truth. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to my time here.”
She lowers her tone again and her words hit me like a warning from one girlfriend to another about a guy flying big red flags. If I only had someone like that in my corner months ago, I wouldn’t be in this situation. “Ms. Madison, you should know that your mother isn’t happy.”
“Please, call me Harlow. And Janie is my stepmother. Don’t mind her. I can’t remember the last time she was truly happy. She’ll get over it, just like everyone else will.”
Speak of the devil, there’s a banging on my door, and it’s not the cool, collected, yet firm knock of my English hero. “Harlow Madison, open this door right now!”
“About your extended stay—” Felicity starts.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go before Janie tears through the antique mahogany. Thank you for arranging it, Felicity. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“But—”
Janie won’t stop. “Dammit! Open the door, Harlow!”
I’m not in the habit of hanging up on anyone, but I wasn’t kidding about Janie. I’ve seen her at her worst, and it’s not pretty. “Gotta go.”
I hurry to the door and will myself to take a calming breath before I unlock the deadbolt and open the door.
Janie is standing there in her mother-of-the-bride gown. I know for a fact it was more expensive than the wedding dress I only wore for a short time. I’m taken aback, because she’s also sporting an expression I’ve never seen on her before.
Janie is not angry or pissed.
She’s downright frantic.
And she looks me up and down from head to toe, not at all ready to get married. I even had time to wash my face before I got the phone call. Nothing felt better than getting rid of the mask that took more than an hour to paint on me this morning.
I wince when Janie’s frenzied shrill hits me. “What is wrong with you? You ruined everything!”
I don’t have the chance to invite her in or respond. And I guess I shouldn’t be worried about her shrieks bothering the guests since everyone staying here is probably in the garden inhaling cocktails to take the edge off the mood.
Janie pushes me to the side as she storms in. “There’s still time. Put that damn dress on and get downstairs.”
I shut the door. “That’s not happening.”
“You’re making this worse than it already is, and I’m not sure how that can be.” Janie shuffles in her fitted gown straight to my dress and yanks it from the floor. “If your father were conscious, he’d die a million deaths from what you’ve done today. This is the embarrassment of the century.”
I cross my arms. “Don’t you dare speak about my father.”
Janie shoves the dress at me. “I’ll do what I can to manage the magazine—hell, we’ll let them have the story for free if they leave out the part of the day when you lost your damn mind. Put this on. We’ll make excuses to the guests later. We’ll say you got a touch of the stomach flu.”
I don’t touch the dress she’s forcing on me and regret that I didn’t think to throw it off the balcony when I had the chance. “I am not putting that on. And I’m done with Albert.”
“Stop it! Don’t say that!” Janie cries as her eyes fall shut.
She looks like she’s fighting back tears, but she fans her face and gets it together.
Unlike me, she’s probably trying to salvage her full face of makeup since she thinks she can talk me into carrying through with this marriage.
She lowers her voice even though it’s still shaky.
“Please, Harlow. Put the dress on. Everyone is here. Whatever your hesitations are, I’m sure we can work past them in the future.
But all this work … the planning, we can’t let it go to waste.
Albert will forgive you—I know he will.”
I freeze in my spot and stare at the woman who has been in my life for almost two decades. I cannot count the amount of times Janie Madison has been over the top ridiculous, but this is a new level.
“I’m not marrying Albert—not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Go jump on one of Dad’s yachts and lick your wounds from embarrassment. That might make you feel better. But no one is going to tell me what to do. Got it?”
Her complexion pales, and that’s saying something since she’s pale in the middle of summer—even on a boat in the Mediterranean. “Please, Harlow. I don’t know what happened, but you have to marry him.”
I frown and wonder if she’s been closet-drinking all morning. “This is the last time I’m going to say it. I never want to see Albert again, let alone marry him. I won’t change my mind.”
Devon
Ahigh-pitched cry rings through the atrium. “Mr. Donnelly, wait!”
Even though I don’t have time for this, I jut my arm out to stop the lift doors from closing.
I try to keep the bite out of my tone. It’s not Felicity’s fault this day turned to shit.
Though, it is her fault she can’t lower her voice when speaking.
“What is it? I need to check on the unmarried bride.”
Felicity steps into the lift with me and looks more flustered than she was trying to keep up with me in the gardens.
She waits for the doors to shut before the words tumble from her lips.
“Well, this is about the bride. Her mother—sorry, stepmother,” she corrects herself, “—demanded to see her. I had to call Ms. Madison to get permission to send up Mrs. Madison. In the process, Ms. Madison—you know the bride who never was—informed me she wasn’t leaving. ”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
Felicity nods like a nervous little critter. “She’s not leaving. She said she loves it here and wishes to stay for the time being. I think the exact words she used were unforeseeable future.”
Felicity might speak two octaves higher than necessary and use twice as many words to express herself, but she’s good at her job. I’m sure I’m not telling her something she doesn’t already know. “We’re booked.”
“Exactly. Booked solid. And since your sister has gifted the suite out to her friends, we’re really booked—not just the normal booked with a couple of extra rooms here and there.”
I glance up at the lift as we approach the top floor. “Thank you for explaining that to her. I’m sure she’ll find somewhere else to nurse the wounds from her lover’s spat.”
“Um, so, well ... that’s what I need to speak to you about. I have a feeling we’re in a pickle.”
The bell rings, and the doors part. I hold them open and turn to her. “What?”