Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Freja? Are you here?’ Darcy called, pulling her key from the door. She had seen the lights shining through from the kitchen. ‘I thought you were going out with Tristan?’
There was no reply. No music playing, no voices on the TV, not the bang and clatter of pots, nor the sound of running water from the shower.
‘...Frey?’
Darcy stopped in her tracks as she rounded the corner to find Freja standing in the kitchen, the two red Valentino dresses hanging from cupboard knobs at either side of her. Beauty and the beast.
Her flatmate twirled her hands out questioningly. ‘Anything you want to tell me?’
‘I...’ Darcy felt the blood pool at her feet. Oh God. ‘...I can explain.’
‘I thought you might say that.’ Freja folded her arms across her chest, waiting. Darcy had never seen her look so forbidding. ‘Go on, then.’
Darcy took pigeon steps into the room, oblivious now to the fact that she was still wearing a wetsuit and lifejacket. ‘It’s not what you think...’
‘No? You mean you didn’t steal my dress and ruin it?’
‘...Yes, but...not blithely . I didn’t just take it because I wanted to! There was a crisis while you were in Amsterdam. I tried to contact you, to explain, to ask if...’ She held her hands out appeasingly. Pleadingly. ‘I called you six times, Freja.’
‘So it’s my fault?’
‘No!’ Darcy said hurriedly. ‘I’m not saying that at all. Things just...developed quickly. There was no time; I was in the situation before I knew what was happening. I was trying to help Otto out, and I said yes to him, thinking I could wear the black velvet dress. Only...you had it. Which was totally fine, of course. But by the time I realized I had nothing to wear, the car was on its way over here to get me, and...’ She blinked. ‘I swear, I would gladly have worn my pyjamas if I possibly could have, but it was a royal event. The King and Queen were there!’
Freja’s eyebrows raised a little at that. ‘...Go on.’
Darcy stared at her with wide eyes. ‘I am so sorry for taking it. I shouldn’t have done – I should have called Otto back and said I couldn’t make it. I hated wearing a dress that I knew had such huge emotional significance for you.’
‘And yet you still did.’
‘I swear on my life, I was being so careful. I lay flat in the car on the way over so I wouldn’t crease it at the hips. But this man who was talking to me...someone jogged his arm, and his wine went all over me.’ She gazed pleadingly at her friend. ‘Freja, you have no idea how sick I’ve felt about it all. It’s been on my mind every day since. It was awful not telling you.’
‘Was it though? You had got away with it. You got another one.’
Darcy bit her lip as Freja’s eyes narrowed.
‘... How did you get another one so quickly? I was back the next night.’
Oh God. This was getting worse.
‘Darce!’ Freja snapped. ‘Answer me.’
Darcy swallowed. ‘Max came round the next day with a new one.’
‘ What? ’
‘I know, that was my reaction. I never asked him to. I couldn’t believe it when...He said his girlfriend has a contact there.’
‘His girlfriend?’
Darcy shrugged. ‘One of them.’
‘So you’re telling me Valentino just opened up for him on a Sunday, and he came round with an identical six-thousand-euro gown—’
Six? ‘He said they gifted it.’
‘Valentino doesn’t gift evening gowns, Darcy! To Bella Hadid, maybe!’
Darcy felt herself crumple. ‘I know!’ she protested. ‘That’s what I thought too, but he won’t let me pay him back! He won’t even talk to me. He’s ghosting all my messages.’
Freja frowned, a silence lengthening as one crisis was superseded by another. ‘Why? Why do all that and then blank you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Darcy shrugged.
Freja’s eyebrows shrugged back. ‘I don’t believe you. Clearly something had to have happened.’
Darcy bit her lip. ‘There was an unfortunate sequence of events when he brought the dress over.’
‘Unfortunate how?’
‘Aksel opened the door to him. He was in just his jeans. It was pretty clear we’d been...interrupted.’
‘So then he’s jealous?’
‘No!’
‘He’s jealous!’
‘No! The man only dates models.’ Darcy groaned, slapping her hand over her forehead and rubbing it down her cheek. She felt too drained for this conversation. ‘I’ve yet to see him with the same girl twice.’
‘And yet he kissed you.’
‘He was using me! He was making me work at his place so he could spy on me and see what I was discovering about this painting he wanted to buy.’
‘ Spying on you?’
Darcy sighed. She’d had a long day and an even longer night; this was not what she needed right now. ‘There’s stuff going on at work I can’t talk about. Legal stuff. But he and I are on opposing teams and it’s not pretty. He plays dirty.’
‘Yeah – clearly anyone who kisses your hair and comes all the way over here with a designer dress to save your skin must be a complete fucking monster.’
‘Exactly,’ Darcy muttered. Then she frowned. ‘Wait.’ She looked at Freja. ‘...How do you know he kissed my hair?’
Freja held up her phone, a cunning look in her eyes. ‘Three million likes and counting.’
‘What is?’
‘How do you think I found out in the first place?’ Freja asked, turning her phone to show a paused TikTok on the screen. She pressed play and the image panned from a LADIES sign on the door of a hotel bathroom to the push plate. Filmed through a narrow opening, a man in a black dinner suit stood with his back to the camera, his phone to his ear and his other arm holding something out of sight.
Darcy felt her blood run cold, already knowing what she was going to see. She could feel Freja’s stare upon her, gauging her reaction.
Max returned the phone to his pocket, said something inaudible, dropped his head momentarily to hers, then slowly started turning towards the door. As he came around, he saw the phone, looking straight into the screen just as Darcy herself came into shot, wiping her cheeks. For three seconds, the full extent of the damage to the dress was clear as Max broke away from her and moved ahead to the door. The camera pulled away suddenly, the door closing before he could get to it; there was a flash of carpet, and then it was turned off.
Darcy was stunned. She had no idea who had taken this, but written in bright white type across the top was the Gen Z-favourite caption: If he wanted to, he would .
‘You didn’t know?’
‘No,’ Darcy whispered. ‘Of course not. Who would...who would do that?’
‘A fairy godmother it appears,’ Freja shrugged. ‘Someone who saw what you and he seem blind to – that he cares about you, Darcy. Whether he wants to or not.’
‘...He’s a player.’
‘Well, then, the player got played.’
Darcy didn’t reply. It was everything she wanted to hear, and yet...she’d seen the coldness in Max’s eyes again tonight. In spite of what this TikTok suggested, she knew he wouldn’t let her close. If they kept falling together, he also kept pushing her away and he wouldn’t stop until she didn’t come back.
He was alone, and that was exactly how he wanted it. A few tears began to slide down her cheeks.
Freja’s eyebrows arched to a point. ‘...Hey, don’t look so sad. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I was just shocked, you know?’ She walked over and curled her arms around Darcy in a hug.
‘And you were right to be. You shouldn’t be the one being nice to me,’ Darcy sniffed. ‘It’s just been a shit day. Everything’s gone wrong. Max hates me, and Aksel, well he basically tried to push me into the canal.’
‘ What? ’ Freja pulled back.
‘I was so wrong about him. He turned on me because I had to cut our date short. When I tell you he’s a nasty piece of work...’ She rubbed her eyes, not caring that she was giving herself panda eyes. ‘I think he might have a drink problem. I’m not sure. Anger issues, definitely.’
Freja’s grip tightened around her. ‘Jesus,’ she murmured, the two of them standing in silence together. ‘He looked so sweet too.’
After a few moments, Darcy found Freja’s hand and she squeezed it. ‘...I really am so sorry for what I did. I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Freja sighed after a minute. ‘What did you really do?’
‘I stole your dress.’
‘Because you were panicking.’ She shrugged. ‘I’d have done the same.’
Darcy pulled back to look at her. ‘But it was special! You’d bought it for this really precious moment.’
‘Which didn’t happen.’ Freja made a face, beginning to pace. ‘I didn’t even go in the end.’
‘What?’ Darcy was stunned. ‘You didn’t go to the awards thing?’
‘I pretended I was sick and went back to my parents’ for the night. I needed to think.’
‘You couldn’t think here ?’
Freja rolled her eyes. ‘I didn’t want you to see me being so pathetic.’
‘But you were upset about Amsterdam. That’s not pathetic! You thought he was going to propose to you. It’s a big thing!’
‘I don’t know why I can’t just let it go?’ Freja said, throwing her hands out. ‘We’re obviously not as far down the road as I had thought. The stupid thing is, I didn’t even want to get married until he didn’t ask!...I just got ahead of myself and now I feel like an idiot.’
‘You are not an idiot. You are just in love, and that makes you a fool. Different thing entirely.’
‘Ha.’
Darcy was quiet for a moment. ‘At least you’ve still got a lovely Valentino dress hanging in your wardrobe.’
‘So do you now,’ Freja said, giving her side-eye.
‘Not the same!’ Darcy laughed. ‘It looks like I went to war in it!’
Freja winced. ‘Can you get it dry cleaned?’
‘I’ll take it in and see what they can do but I don’t think it’ll ever look right. A dress like that has to be flawless and I’m sure some marks will remain.’
‘Even so – give it a go. Take it in tomorrow and see what they can do.’
‘I can’t tomorrow. I’m going to Hornbaek for the day. More research.’
‘On the weekend?’
‘I’m going to the Madsens’ old summer house, and I can only get in while the owner’s there.’
‘Oh.’
Darcy took a breath, not wanting to keep any more secrets. ‘...Max being the owner. Turns out his grandmother was a Madsen. He’s going up there for the weekend and he said I can pop in and have a look around.’
‘Oh!’ Freja said, a smile beginning to play on her lips. ‘Well, that’s very decent of him.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Reckon he’ll be spying on you?’
Darcy cracked a grin at her sarcasm. ‘Obviously.’
‘Yeah.’ Freja grinned back. ‘Well, I’m sure it’ll be as uneventful as my weekend in Amsterdam and nothing will happen .’
Darcy met her eyes. ‘We can but hope.’