Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Harry
Present day
“Princess. Are you fucking marrying him?”
Gigi freezes, her face pale.
“Tell me this is some kind of joke. Tell me this is a huge misunderstanding.” Tone nearing lethal, I demand, “Fucking tell me you’re not wearing a ring I didn’t give you … because that’s sure as hell what it looks like.”
She turns round slowly, as though the minutes are yet to catch up with her. Her head drops to her ring finger before she quickly hides her hand behind her back. But the fucking diamond winks at me through the mirror’s reflection.
“Harry—”
“Don’t,” I snap, voice tight. “Don’t say my name like that.”
Jamie.
Jamie fucking Callahan.
What kind of fuckery is this?
“It’s been 125 days, Gigi. I counted every single one. And you’ve been planning to get married this whole time? Planning to get married to him?”
Her voice turns quieter. “It’s not like that.”
I stride towards her, erasing the distance between us.
“Then tell me what it’s like.” My hands drop to her hips. I fist the material of her dress to emphasise my torment, careful not to touch her. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re trying to kill me, but you’re meant to be my lifeline.”
Her spine stiffens, lips parting, but she says nothing.
“What happened?” I whisper. “What changed?”
I’ve vowed to be at her side, forgive her through everything, be her biggest supporter even when she doesn’t deserve it. But this …
I can’t accept this.
Something flickers in her eyes. It vanishes just as quickly.
“This isn’t the place,” Gigi says, glancing at the door. “You need to go. Now. Before someone sees you.”
I don’t move.
“You shouldn’t be here, Harry.” Her voice hitches. “Go. Leave.”
She goes to step past. I move into her path, refusing to release my hands from her sides. “Just tell me.” My voice near breaking point, I ask, “Why him? Why not me?”
She stares at me, eyes pleading with a desperation she can’t voice.
“I don’t want you here,” she says. “I want you to go home.”
“No. No. You know what? Fuck this.”
I push my luck, cupping her cheek and pressing my forehead against her temple. Our mouths are so close we’re breathing the same air. I drop my gaze to her lips.
“Kiss me. I’ll beg on my knees if that’s what you want.”
Her gaze moves to my mouth as if she’s contemplating it.
“Just once,” I tell her. “Please, just fucking kiss me.”
And for a painful second, I convince myself she will. That she’ll risk her marriage to another man just to appease me.
She closes her eyes, her shoulders sinking.
A growl vibrates my chest. “Why won’t you just speak to me?”
She flinches as if a bullet impaled her.
“Harry, this isn’t—”
“Real?” I cut in. “Then take off the ring.”
Her attention drops to her hand.
“Take it off, Gigi. Right now. Walk out of here with me.”
I follow her gaze, though the ring is like a gun pointing straight at me as she brushes her thumb over the band.
“I can’t.”
“Bullshit,” I snap.
Something creaks behind me. Gigi’s eyes drift over my shoulder for only a moment before darting back. I don’t care if someone walks in. I’m so engrossed in her, so tormented with this fucked-up nightmare, that Greg could have risen from the dead and I still wouldn’t turn round.
“No. This – this isn’t you. Look me in the eye and tell me you love him.”
She looks back over my shoulder again.
I grip her chin between my thumb and my forefinger, tilting her head back towards me, encouraging her to face me properly.
“Say. It.”
With a distant look in her eyes, her gaze runs over my face.
She blinks once, twice, then breathes in through her nose, that perfectly controlled mask slipping into a place.
And then, softly: “I love him.”
A scoff tumbles from my throat, because if I give in to the anger and ache in my chest, I’ll soon bleed over these spotless tiled floors.
No matter how many times I’ve convinced myself otherwise, even through the times she didn’t know I existed, reality has always managed to get in the way.
I was only ever made to love her from a distance, as someone else’s.
The thought makes me withdraw a step, suddenly feeling far too close to her.
Gripping my jaw tightly, I nod stiffly. “You’re marrying him.” I don’t ask it. I say it out loud, like maybe speaking it will make it seem more real.
“I am.”
A beat of silence passes, but Gigi’s expression doesn’t falter. It hardens.
“Thanks for keeping her company for me.” My jaw pulses as Jamie appears from behind me. His arm curls round Gigi, and a snarl pulls at my mouth as he brings her into his side. “Nice get-up.”
Reluctantly, I drop my head to my chest. The white shirt and the black waistcoat of Claridge’s newly qualified bartender who should have seen me coming.
I wipe the single droplet of blood off my collar.
Jamie stares at me in the waiting silence.
Is this when I’m meant to return the compliment?
I run my eyes over him, but there’s nothing remotely nice about the pompous prick besides the woman at his side. The woman he doesn’t deserve.
“Nice fiancée.”
He rolls his eyes, stepping sideways with his arm still wrapped round her in an attempt to bypass me. “Let’s go—”
I step in front of them. “Wait.”
Jamie watches me reluctantly. “Back off, Harry.”
“You should be thanking me.” I smile, then tilt my head, studying him. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know what she looks like when she begs—”
He seethes, “If you touch her again—”
“Oh, I intend to.”
I laugh, stepping into his space.
“Just know when she cries out to God, she’s praying for me.”
Jamie lunges forwards as if he’s going to hit me. Gigi steps between us, one hand pressed against Jamie’s chest, the other against mine. She’s trembling.
I stare at her finally, a part of me wanting to grab her and shake her simultaneously. The traitor has chosen someone else.
“You’ve been mine since the first time I laid eyes on you. A ring doesn’t erase that.”
“Stop it,” she whispers.
“Say you don’t think about me when he’s touching you. Say you don’t dream about my hands instead of his. Lie to me—”
“Stop.” Her voice breaks. “For God’s sake, Harry, I don’t want you here!”
I scoff, bitter and selfish, with temptation to squeeze her throat, if only to strangle some sense into her. Not to hurt her – never to hurt her – but enough to emphasise the depths of her betrayal.
I step back. My gaze doesn’t leave hers.
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “Marry him. Lie to him for the rest of your life. But it doesn’t change the fact you’ll always be fucking mine.”
Jamie looks like he wants to murder me. Let him try.
He takes a step round me. I dart my hand out, curling it around his bicep. He halts his feet, and I drop my voice low, deadly.
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I swear … I’ll fucking kill you.”
He pulls back to look at me fully.
I smile. Not friendly.
“Come on, Gigi.”
I tilt my head down as they both walk out, the creak of the bathroom door echoing as it seals shut. The sound shudders through me.
Oh fuck.
I shake my head, tearing my hands over my face. I turn to the sink, my fingers shaking on the tap as I pour cold water into my palms, splashing it over my face.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
I wipe my face against my shoulder, a pathetic attempt to dry it, before slipping out of the bathroom. Prepared to leave, I turn down the hallway.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Jamie’s voice rings out. “I’ll only keep this brief.”
I draw to a stop.
Murmurs echo behind the curtain before the crowd finally lowers their voices to a hush.
Their quiet steers me towards the main ballroom.
I pull back the curtain, stepping through the crowd until I see him standing on the terrace, behind the open glass doors.
Richard stands on the sidelines, his smile wicked as he joins in with the toast.
My pulse rages at the sight of him, but I’m blindsided by hatred as Jamie raises his glass.
“I want to thank you all for being here this evening,” he says, voice smooth. “Here’s to my future wife. To Gigi.”
I’m going to be fucking sick.
His arm is round her waist like he has the right to touch her. I can’t look at her face – not with the knowledge that love for me is now elsewhere.
I take in her dress properly under the light in a way I didn’t before, the pale silk material indicating she’s already halfway to becoming someone else’s bride.
His eyes drift down to meet hers.
“From the second I met you, I knew this was our only possible ending. We’ve had our moments,” he adds, “but what matters is that we found our way here. Together.”
A soft murmur of appreciation runs through the guests, while my jaw remains tight.
“Till death do us part.” His fingers slide into her hair, his other hand anchored to her waist, fingers splayed wide. He leans in—
I can’t look any longer.
I turn in the opposite direction of the crowd as they bear bright smiles, echoing “awws”. Poppy stands directly in front of me, forcing me still. Her expression is as devastating as mine, a harsh contrast to the happiness vibrating round us.
The echo of the crowd is drowned out by her sad whisper. “I tried to tell you …”
“I wish you tried harder.”