Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
The sound of the ocean and the brilliant morning sun woke Darcy.
Squinting, he rested his hand over his eyes, then attempted to lick his lips, a fruitless endeavor since his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
At what point following the miserable wedding reception had he passed out?
What time was it? He peeked under the tuxedo jacket draped over his body and sighed in relief.
At least he wore his boxers, but whose leg was folded across his hip?
Hell yeah! It wasn’t a dream! He smiled. Nestled against him, she smelled like sex and the sea, which turned his smile into an absolute grin.
Unlike six years ago, drunken sex, misery, and vodka had definitely paid off! What a night to remember—if only he could. Had he asked Lizzy to marry him? He may not remember the details at this moment, but he knew they were still hot together.
From his position, he slowly turned his head to kiss his cowgirl awake.
Bolting up, he exclaimed. “What the hell?!”
“Good morning, hunny bunny!” Caroline yawned and stretched.
“Fuuuck nooo, not again!”
“What’s the matter? Are you feeling sick? You drank so much, Darcy.”
Oblivious to the few beachcombers, he jumped off the chaise and scrambled for his clothes, but she wore his unbuttoned dress shirt.
“We did not ...”
She grinned. “Oh, yes, we did.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Finally! And, it was better than I remembered.” She sat up, attempting to straighten her hair-sprayed mess.
He remembered doing it twice, because once with Lizzy was never enough, but she wasn’t Lizzy!
Shoving his feet into his trousers, he groaned. “Jesus, did we at least use protection?”
“Yes, of course! I’ve been on the pill for ages.” She rolled her eyes. “Uh ... contract clause 485 double i, remember?”
“The pill isn’t one-hundred percent fool-proof.”
“Darcy, you’re going to be my husband in a couple of months. It’s no big deal if we move the schedule up a bit. I’m sure it won’t nullify the contract.”
“I ... I’m sorry ... it wasn’t supposed to happen, Caroline. Damn!”
“Don’t apologize. The drink totally rewired your libido.” She chuckled. “You’re a lot more compliant when vodka rushes to your equipment. My God, you—”
“Stop!”
“But Darcy—”
“No, no, no, no no! Beanz, I don’t love you.”
“Fine. I don’t love you either. I love your dick, but not you. Jeez, you’re like the only guy on the planet who has a problem with having sober, sexual pleasure with his fiancée.”
Would she ever understand him? He looked out at the rough sea, feeling sick to his stomach.
A storm brewed out there and in his heart.
None of this made any sense. Had it been a drunken fantasy or had he mistaken Caroline for Lizzy in his delirium?
It wouldn’t have been the first time. It’s what got him into this whole Marriage Pact situation.
If it wasn’t a fantasy and he had actually made love to Lizzy, as he believed, then . .. she left him ... again.
Running his hand through his salty, stiff hair, he blurted, “I ... I have to go take a shower. Look, I’m sorry if I jumped the gun last night, and I’m sorry for embarrassing you and your family.
I’ll make an apology to your sister and parents after breakfast, and then I’ll fly back to the city.
” A Darcy should never have to apologize, but he had been over-the-top unhinged thanks to the drink.
I was a fool to think she’d come to me and love me again. He wanted to cry.
Caroline snorted. “Oh, please. You don’t need to apologize to them.
Whatever you did wasn’t nearly as bad as Hurst. Jeez, talk about an embarrassment.
My grandmother stopped him from peeing on the potted palm tree during the cocktail hour—in front of the editor of NYC Bride magazine!
Your drunkenness was at least entertaining, and you managed to keep it in your pants .
.. until, you know. As for your beatdown of George, everyone thinks you’re a mental case.
” She shrugged. “He’ll survive. He always bounces back. ”
“It was long overdue. Stay away from him, Beanz. I mean it. There are things every woman should know about him.”
“Oooo, that sounds juicy. Tell me.”
He simply shook his head.
“Then you’ll tell Lizzy?”
Doing a double-take, he furrowed his brow. “No. She made her bed, and it’s none of my business.”
“What do you mean by ‘gone’? To breakfast? A walk on the beach? Crazy? Please define.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Darcy, but Ms. Bennet checked out at six this morning,” the clerk said. “Maybe she’s headed home?”
“Did she leave a message for me?”
She checked the box. “No, sir.”
“Thank you,” he grumbled, stepping away from the counter.
“Oh, but her traveling companion, Mr. Wickham, is still occupying the room until tomorrow if you need to get a message to her.”
Interesting. “No, thank you.”
Holding a coffee cup in one hand and a garment bag in the other, he stood at the inn’s entrance, lost in deep thought, staring at the limos circling in the drive.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie’s frankness (finally, after all these years) about The Breakup came forth from last night’s drunken fog.
His friend was right; he should have fought for Lizzy.
He should have paid close attention to her reasons instead of shutting her down and tossing his phone.
He should have followed her—with the ring—to Paris, but his pride had been wounded, and he bolted.
So many should-haves, so many regrets. Sucking at relationships—as evident by his past and present predicaments—he wished his mother were alive to advise him on what he should do, but she had on her deathbed, and he brushed it off in his grief.
Perhaps Gigi, a self-proclaimed relationship expert, might impart some Gen Z wisdom.
Caroline startled him with a pinch to his backside. “Are you going back to the townhouse? Shall I meet you there tomorrow?”
“No. I’ll be at the office, then my apartment.”
He gave her ivory-colored pantsuit the once-over. “You look nice, Beanz,” he said, feeling melancholy, a useless emotion he rarely experienced.
“Thanks! You bought it!”
“Hm. Very stylish.”
“How’s your head?” she asked, hooking her arm in his.
“I’m fine.”
“Good. I was worried about what kind of hangover you’d have after falling off the wagon after so long. You drank more than I’ve ever seen anyone drink.”
“That’s me, overachiever. I’m fine,” he repeated.
“Well, I guess, now that you’ve showered and sobered, we should probably clear the air.”
“Yeah. Let’s sit.”
Settling into two Queen Anne chairs beside each other, he gave her all his attention, somewhere deep down hoping she would admit that she hadn’t slept with him or that she wanted to call off the engagement.
Everything was suddenly very thorny. He lived in a monochromatic world of tight control where there was little chance of complications or screw-ups.
“You go first,” he instructed.
“Okay.” She swallowed hard, then nodded.
“I confess, I knew your ex owned the gallery on my first visit, but I felt that telling you would risk nullifying the contract. I also learned about the painting. It’s very beautiful, but I decided .
.. I admit, I was acting selfishly not to tell you because it might’ve brought you to the gallery and then you’d see her and risk losing your heart and then likely have her break it again.
On this, I swear. I pursued the client relationship because .
.. she’s good at what she does. And a Darcy business transaction is never personal. ”
“True. Although, I don’t think I would have done the same thing, and you’re not a Darcy.” Above all things, we’re honorable. Deceit isn’t something I’m prone to do.
“I’m not a Darcy ... yet.”
That remained to be seen, and he wondered if he actually nullified the contract if he had made love to Lizzy, not Caroline. “And what about Wickham?”
“I saw him at the gallery reception. He propositioned me, and I blew him off, and that’s it.”
“He propositioned you even though he’s engaged?”
“Yes, but I’m not attracted to him in the least, and there is that very explicit section in the contract.”
“He nodded but noted how she toyed with her engagement ring. She was lying to him, but he decided it wasn’t worth getting into the weeds over given his own questionable behavior. His head and heart hurt too much to think on it.
Crossing her legs, she reached over to take his hand. “I’m worried about you and hope you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about your feelings. We’re best friends now and you’ve always been forthright with me before.”
“I’d like to think honesty—both ways—is the foundation of our relationship.”
“Elizabeth is very pretty.”
“I suppose.” He shrugged.
“Pretty enough to tempt you?”
He didn’t respond, just furrowed his brow.
“Surely, you must feel something toward her, having seen her again—and on George’s arm no less.”
“And how do you feel about seeing George on her arm?”
“Completely ambivalent.”
He wasn’t sure about her reply, but despite the Darcy honor, he lied because telling the truth would only hurt her, vindicate Charlie, and call his own morals and sanity into question.
Besides, turnabout was fair play when it came to sharing his fortune with a woman who may or may not be sleeping with the enemy and possibly had mercenary motives from the start.
He needed time to figure it all out. “I feel nothing for her. We’re very different people now.
She’s getting married and so am I, and that’s that. ”
She gave him the fish eye.
“Take it or leave it, Caroline. You asked for my honesty and that’s all I have to say on the matter.”
“I saw the way you looked at her all night.”
“Did I? I don’t remember.” She looked incredible.
“My sister said you danced with her.”
“I don’t remember that either.” It was amazing.
“She said you tried to kiss Elizabeth and that’s why you really fought with Wickham.”