Chapter 29
Harper
Grace loops her arm through mine.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, though the sidewalk tilts slightly beneath my feet.
We’re standing outside the bar. It’s close to four a.m. Good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow. The not so good thing? I’m absolutely stinking drunk.
Phoenix squints at the road.
“Right. Where’s our transportation?”
"Didn’t you call for cars?" I hiccup.
Grace looks at me with affection. Her face is flushed. And when she giggles, I know, she, too, is quite high.
"Yeah, didn’t you, Phe?" Grace throws her arm around Phe, who staggers. As a result, all three of us stumble. I drop my purse. Oops.
I try to reach for it and find the earth moves. "Oh, no."
"Here, let me help you, honey." Zoey bends to pick it up, overbalances, and grabs me. I go down with her, hitting the ground next to her, managing to turn so I land on my bum.
Zoey bursts out laughing.
It’s infectious, so I laugh too. We hold onto each other, eyes streaming. A part of me says it’s not that funny. But in my drunken state, it feels hilarious.
Phe shakes her head at us affectionately. Her phone buzzes. She looks at it, then frowns. "Oh, no. Your ride cancelled, Harper."
"Oh." I try to be serious but end up giggling again. "Guess I’ll have to grab a nap here."
Zoey sits up, overbalances, then clutches at me. I go down again, and this time, both of us sprawl on our backs, looking up at the night sky.
The last time I was out this late was…that night with James when he drove me home. For some reason, that sobers me up.
"I need to find another ride."
I manage to sit up, then help Zoey up, too.
"I’ll call James." Phe pulls out her phone.
"What? No!" I try to jump up to my feet, but my movements are slow. She’s already speaking to James.
"Yeah, her ride cancelled. She’s tipsy, I think." She looks at me, her gaze widening. "Oh, that’s a good idea." She disconnects.
"What?" I stagger to my feet, forgetting about my handbag. "What did he say?"
"He’ll be here in the next five minutes."
"How’s that possible?"
"Ooh, that’s sooo romantic," Zoey sings from her perch on the ground.
I scowl at her. Then look back at Phe. Some of my drunken stupor fades.
"Five minutes?" Grace looks skeptical.
"He was still at The Edge, which isn’t far away," Phe explains.
Zoey grabs my hand. I help her to her feet. "The knight in shining armor coming to rescue Harper." She looks at me with a loopy smile. "I’m so happy for your Harper. I think he really does love you."
I rub at my temple, attempting to ease the headache gathering behind it.
I really shouldn’t have had so much to drink.
And no way, is he coming. Why should he.
I’m not his real wife-to-be; it’s all a pretense.
I have enough presence of mind not to say it aloud.
Nah, he must have told Phe that as part of the charade. Yeah, that’s all it is.
"He’s not gonna turn up." I look around for my bag.
"He’s here," Zoey gasps.
"What?" I jerk my head around to find a car pulling up in front of us. A familiar Jaguar. I gulp.
"Three minutes, fifty seconds." Grace sounds impressed. "That must be a record."
He slides out and walks around the car to me.
"Harper." He nods.
"James?" I blink.
"Thanks for calling me, Phe. I'll take it from here." He nods at her, then tips his chin at Grace and Zoey. "Can I offer any of you ladies a lift?"
"Connor's arranged cars." Phe pats his arm.
On cue, three pull up in succession.
Phe could have arranged one for me too. She chose to call James instead. When I look at her, the question must show on my face. She shrugs, a mischievous look on her face. No wonder she wasn't bothered finding us together in his office. She's chuffed about us.
Phe hugs Grace and Zoey, then me, then James. "Take care of my friend."
"Always." He tilts his head.
Grace fixes him with a look. "And if you make her unhappy, you'll have all of us to deal with."
"Exactly," Zoey says.
"You guys." I blow them a kiss and stumble slightly. James grips my arm.
"I'll never do anything to hurt her. Or knowingly cause her pain."
I glance sideways at him. His face is serious, spine straight, stance so purpose-filled he could be taking a military vow. My heart flutters. My stomach tightens. That unwavering intensity, especially when it's directed at me, is so hot.
I sense Grace’s demeanor soften.
"Bye, Harper." She kisses my cheek, drops her voice. "Maybe he's not so bad." Then backs away.
Zoey and I embrace. Grace pulls her toward the cars. Doors slam. The cars drive off.
He pulls open the passenger door.
"Get in."
So bossy. But I’m not going to argue. Not when I'm this drunk. Not when he waited until every one of my friends was safely in their car first.
He shuts the door, gets inside the driver’s seat, and eases the car forward.
I yawn, then burrow into the soft leather seat and take in his profile.
In the dim illumination from the streetlights, he looks imposing. Broad shoulders, controlled posture, that calm, watchful expression that always makes people step aside without realizing why.
"Thanks for letting me get off dinner service early.” I yawn again.
"It was your bachelorette evening. I wasn’t going to keep you back." He hands me a bottle of water without looking away from the road.
I accept it and chug down half of its contents before placing it back.
"Are your brothers throwing you a bachelor party?"
He scoffs.
"Not your style?"
"We’re both going to be away on the day of the wedding. I don’t want to risk it further by being away longer than necessary."
I understand his concern. When you’re defending your Michelin stars and worried about when the Michelin inspectors are going to drop in unannounced, you make sure you’re always there to quality-control the food.
It also reminds me that this is not a real wedding. Even though the dress fitting and my friends’ excitement has made it feel like it is.
A tight ball of disappointment squeezes my chest. I shouldn’t feel this sense of being let down, but somehow, I do feel sad.
I turn to face forward and pretend to close my eyes.
He must sense my retreat, for I sense him scan my features. "You okay?"
"Mm-hmm."
We continue driving through the silent roads. At some point, I must doze off. When I open my eyes, it’s to find we’re parked in front of my apartment block.
I open my eyes to find him staring at me.
I flush. "Did you watch me while I was sleeping?"
"You looked peaceful; I didn’t want to wake you up." He makes no move to get out of the car.
I want to look away, but my gaze is caught with his. The car suddenly feels very small. The air between us grows so thick; I feel like I can’t breathe. My stomach flutters.
He scans my features in a leisurely manner and little pinpricks of sensation zip under my skin.
"You’re beautiful, Ember."
His throat moves as he swallows.
His words are so sincere. It amps up the attraction between us. My pulse rate kicks up. He doesn’t look away. And that only turns the pinpricks of sensation into slow, rolling waves of lust. It’s so intense, I’m unable to hold his gaze anymore.
"At the end of a long day, and after going out with my girlfriends and consuming enough alcohol that I’ll be hungover tomorrow?" I laugh in an attempt to lighten the air.
"Especially then." He raises his gaze, and the storm of feeling in his eyes takes me by surprise.
"There’s something I want you to have. This may not be the best time to give it to you, but I also don’t want to delay it."
He looks unsure of himself for the first time since I’ve known him.
"What is it?" I sit up, intrigued.
He switches on the dome light. Then pulls out a velvet box, flips it open, and holds it out.
In a daze, I look at it. It’s a beautiful ring. A deep green emerald sits at the center, its color rich and luminous, like a drop of forest light caught in stone. A thin band of platinum holds it in place, flanked by two small diamonds that make the emerald’s color glow even brighter.
"It’s an engagement ring.”
I'm unable to take my eyes off it. An engagement ring? I just told Grace it didn’t matter that I didn’t have one. But inwardly, I felt, somehow, cheated by it. It’s as if he sensed it, for here he is, handing it to me like he heard me.
"James." I look up at him, then back at the ring. "We’re not really engaged, though."
"Of course, we are. It’s a real wedding. Besides, how would it look if you didn't have one?”
Of course. It’s for appearances sake. It feels bittersweet, that the engagement is not 'real,' but also, that the ring is perfect.
“You can’t wear it in the kitchen, but I hope you will outside.”
All jewelry is forbidden in the kitchen, for health and safety reasons.
He holds out his palm. I place my hand in his, and he slides the ring onto my finger.