Chapter 6 Robin #2
Wren's voice is gentle as he speaks, but there's a tenseness to him. “Because he is a piece of shit. Robin, you look absolutely stunning in this dress. I swear on my life you do. But if you feel uncomfortable, we can get you something else to wear.”
“He’s my ex boyfriend.” I barely whisper, not wanting to look at him because the words feel ugly.
His soft fingers touch my chin and it sends a warm jolt through my entire body, like it had in the library. “That makes him an even bigger arsehole,” he holds the red card up between our bodies. “He's made you a character married to an abusive alcoholic.”
I run the edge of my hand under one eye and then the other.
“Yeah but you're not actually like that, it’s a game. It's not like you're going to go full method actor on me.” I try to lighten the mood as I always do, but my tone is flat and he looks unconvinced that I’m ok. I’m really not, but I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me with so much concern.
“It's still not very respectful to you.” He takes one step back down before he rolls his shoulders out of his blazer, taking it off to reveal a black leather shoulder holster, obviously empty. The laugh that escapes me seems to stun him momentarily, before he drapes the blazer over my body and my hands snake into the sleeves. It’s huge on me, but covers most of my body and thank god, my bum.
“You look like a Capulet. You know, from the movie. Leguizamo was such a dish.”
His smile shows a flash of his white canine. “Oh so you have a thing for dark and handsome? Don’t talk about other men, Wife. You’ll make me jealous.”
I roll my eyes and take a step down, putting me eye level with his open shirt and tattooed chest. I need to seriously bring myself out of whatever spelling he’s able to cast over me.
“Thankyou for this. The dress is probably fine. I’m sure I’ll just get over it.” I say detached, repeating over and over in my head to stay away from him, like Lily would want me to. I think she weirdly wants a claim on him if Willow doesn’t kill her first.
”Robin.” He breathes my name out on a sigh, but I cut him off.
“No, honestly it’s fine. I’m going to go down first.”
He flinches, his beautiful smile disappearing into a tight frown and I don’t miss the hurt that flashes in his gorgeous green eyes. They look so sad.
I don’t think he’s going to move, but then he nods and steps out of the way for me to pass. Holding the banister I descend down the stairs, not looking back but I feel him watching me the entire way, until I disappear around the corner into the dining room which is now alive with activity.
THE housekeeper Maggie flutters around the long table like a hummingbird, sorting seating cards as she goes.
Pursing her lips, she stares at the stack in her hands; looking up again to analyse her progress.
She's a stout, grey haired woman who I think I've only ever seen in wellies and checked trousers.
Her woolen jumpers always look so cosy, but today it's nowhere to be seen as she wears a long, pleated floral shirt dress. It hits me that the last time I would have seen her was before Christmas, back when I’d intended to make a personal connection.
Back when Nightingale house was going to be mine.
"It's lovely to see you again, Miss Osbourne.
I'm happy for your departure, you know." She says in a broad Scottish accent, her no bullshit expression schooling me.
"Hope you're not feeling any shame escaping that one.
" She stands straight as I just blush, her hip popping as she slaps the cards against her open palm not once, but twice.
"Good. Champagne and canapes are on the patio, go enjoy yourself. Be watching him though."
I find how naturally maternal she is so charming that it squeezes my chest. I can't seem to form words and I think it's because unlike my friends, Maggie actually witnessed first hand my relationship ending. They know only what I tell them, but she was there to see the shattering of my heart and the life I left bleeding out in this very house. I never want to think about the solatule life I almost chose for myself again, the one where Maggie would of been my house keeper, in this giant place that only homed a lonely writer and a man who fucked anyone who wasn’t his girlfriend.
My smile feels wobbly as I nod at her, shuffling quickly out of the dining room to go find alcohol. I'm absolutely going to need a couple of drinks to make it through tonight.
As I step outside, I'm instantly met by warmth.
The sun kissing the trees as it starts its descent.
Everything below the patio is dressed to the nines, as if Gatsby himself was throwing this party.
Gold and black balloons of all shapes float and sway from where they are attached to tables.
Sparkling stars hang from trees, netting what shade they create into the perfect party backdrop.
Glitterballs and items like feathers are placed on all surfaces, along with alcohol, glasses and flowers.
I instantly imagine flappers dancing, speakeasies and gangsters.
The team hired have gone above and beyond to bring the swinging twenties to life.
A breeze drifts by with a little relief from the lake and I turn my face down into the lapel of Wren's jacket.
His blazer smells like sandalwood and mint, his scent causing tingles to form in my lower belly.
I shiver at how good it smells, before a slim hip knocks into me and I almost topple over, into a welcome table of champagne.
Nimble fingers grab me by the blazer as a familiar laugh steadies not only my physical form, but my nerves too.
Phin lets out a low whistle as he takes my hand and twirls me in a circle, my shoulders losing some of the tension I'd built since getting dressed in my room.
“Well see here Missy, that dress is mighty fine.” Putting on a thick accent I can only guess is his attempt at being a gangster, he gives me one of his devastating winks.
A laugh bursts from my lips and I stand back so I can take in his costume.
As expected Phin has rolled with a gold theme, his oversized shirt white, but with gold flowers and scatters of glitter entwined in them.
It matches his painted nails perfectly. His shirt is tucked into high waisted tailored trousers, braces holding them up.
He wears shiny pointy shoes and I want to laugh, because accompanied with a chunky gold tie and cream fedora, he looks eccentrically ridiculous.
It was completely what I expected from him and a whole world more.
“Phin, you look so good but completely insane.” I laugh as I pull at his chunky tie, twisting a finger around one of the braces and pranging it off his stomach.
He flashes me a brilliant smile, holding his hands up like a gold deity basking in the sun's rays. “What can I say little lady, maximum effort or get the hell out.”
“You're really going to keep that accent up all night aren't you?” I receive a pointed look that tells me, of course he is. He takes two full champagne flutes from the table and hands me one, before knocking them together in a gentle toast.
“My name's Little Buchanan, I’m the youngest gangster brother and the owner of my own nightclub. I’m keeping secrets from my family, but what could they be?” Pulling out his own red card from his trousers pocket, he flips it the right way round to let me read his character description.
I take a sip from my drink, the bubbles bursting against my tongue in much needed refreshment as I raise my free hand in a surrendering gesture.
“Ah, it seems my dear Husband is your rival little Buchanan.
I can't be seen with the enemy, god forbid we'd be the talk of the town!” I play along and like any time I spend with him, I find myself relaxing. I’ve always wanted to go to a murder mystery event held at a hotel, so maybe I could have some fun with my friends.
“You’re playing in a pair? Who is your husband?
I wish I was paired with Merle. He’s playing a doctor so I don't know if our characters will even cross paths.” He bites his bottom lip down in a momentary display of disappointment.
I never could guess what Corbin thought of his brother's boyfriend, but it felt slightly unfair to not pair them up together.
I mean, I had never met Wren before and he was playing my husband.
Large hands wrap around Phin’s chest and waist, as a head of short brown hair rests on his shoulder.
Merle hugs him from behind and he releases a relieved breath, but the moment quickly ends as he comes to stand next to him.
He still looks incredibly nervous, but maybe after the night starts, he may calm down a little.
Everything will be fine, the entire weekend will be great and then they’ll officially open on Monday.
“Nothing will tear us apart kid. Dr Carraway, at your service. A pleasure M’lady.
” he tips the brim of an invisible hat. He wears a crisp white jacket over a navy cotton shirt, taper trousers and a crimson red tie.
His round glasses complete the look. Holding up his own character card, he shoots me a wink.
I frown. “Carraway isn't a doctor.”
He shrugs, unaware of why I’m annoyed but Phin laughs, holding his champagne flute towards me.
“The characters are totally messed up, I know!
I told him that it might throw off the theme if he really wanted to do Great Gatsby, but the bastard didn't even reply to my text. Or phone calls.” He mutters the last part, taking a long swig of his drink before resting the empty glass on the welcome table.
Instead of getting a new one, he lets go of Merle to refill it from an opened bottle.