Chapter 23
Pippa took to heart what I said about marrying quickly.
She pulled the wedding together in two months, and tomorrow, she’ll be walking down the aisle where I’ll be waiting for her.
“Never thought this would happen. Our last drinks with you as a free man.” Garrett holds up his beer glass, and I clink mine against it.
I laugh. “It was just a matter of finding the right woman.”
“I’m so happy for you, man.” Victor punches my arm, and I nod.
“I’ve never been so happy. When we went into business and things took off, I thought that made me happy, but that was nothing compared to being with Pippa.”
“You’re a true romantic.” Mallory deadpans.
“Ask Pippa. She’ll tell you I am.” I shoot her a wink.
There is nothing that could bring down my mood.
Tomorrow I’ll marry the love of my life, and I’ll give her the happy-ever-after she deserves.
“Can you do me a favour?” I ask Mallory.
She nods. “Anything.”
“I know you’re heading over to the Chapmans in the morning. On the way, can you grab a flat white with one sugar and a ham and cheese croissant for Pippa?”
She’s gives me the side-eye. “Sure. Why?”
“It’s her thing. I just want to make the gesture, you know?”
Mallory smiles. “You’re so sweet with her. I really hope you two have a wonderful day tomorrow.”
“Me too. And with that, it’s time for me to get some sleep.” I stand.
“We should go back to your room for more drinks,” Vic says.
I shake my head. “No more for me. I’m getting married in the morning.”
I’ve been back in my hotel room for maybe five minutes when there’s a tap on the door.
I roll my eyes. I’m going to get some sleep ready for tomorrow. If Garrett and Victor want to keep drinking, they can do it in their own rooms.
Tugging open the door, I speak before I look up to see who it is. “You two had better be ready in the?—”
Mum.
“Deacon.”
My jaw clenches. “Mother. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I heard you were getting married tomorrow. Thought I’d pay my son a visit seeing as my invitation seems to have gone missing in the mail.”
I snort. “As if I’d invite you after everything Dad went through.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let me in. We need to talk.”
Barging past me, she walks straight to the couch and sits down. I haven’t seen this woman in twelve years, and she still thinks she can do whatever she wants.
“What do you want?”
“Pippa’s not being honest with you.”
I roll my eyes. “Is that really the best you’ve got?”
“Oh, sweetheart. Pippa knows I’m still seeing Lucas. She’s known all along.”
I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath. “You’re lying.”
“She knew we were together that day. Lucas told her to keep watch.”
Shaking my head, I grit my teeth. “She was a kid. You need to leave her alone.”
“We had lunch together over Christmas.”
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with this woman?
This isn’t the mother I grew up with. She’s angry and twisted. I remember her being so angry at Dad leaving, especially when I made it clear I wouldn’t be back.
He let her keep the house—in his mind it was tainted by her actions anyway. It was him who worked himself to the bone in the years that followed until his early death.
“Here.” She hands me a photo. I roll my eyes before looking at it—only for my whole world to fall apart.
There’s Pippa, sitting at lunch with her brother and my mother. Lucas is studying Pippa closely while her hands are up in the air—animated as if she’s telling a story.
My stomach falls.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you’re my son, and you deserve better than to be lied to.”
“That’s a bit rich coming from you,” I mumble. My jaw tics. Lucas and Pippa did go out together that day and came back later than expected. Why didn’t she say anything?
I thought our relationship was worth more than this.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But it’s time for me to come clean. I’ll go now. I doubt you want me hanging around.”
Before I can say anything else, she gets up and walks out.
She’s dropped her bomb and now she flits away without a care in the world.
This is twelve years ago all over again.
My chest tightens, and I feel like I’m thrown back in time.
Pippa knows how I felt back then—she knows how I feel now about my mother. Why would she hide this from me?
There’s so much noise in my head and I can’t get any of it to quieten down.
I need to get out of here.
There’s no way I can leave tonight. I’m in no state to drive. But there is a private plane waiting to whisk us away on our honeymoon.
After picking up my mobile, I call the jet pilot. “Deacon Miller here. I want to know if we can change the time of the flight tomorrow.”
There’s a pause. “I can check. What time were you thinking?”
“10:00 a.m.?”
“I’ll call you back.”
When he calls a half hour later to confirm, I sink into the couch, whiskey in my hand, and smile.
To hell with the Chapman family.
God, it hurts so much to think that—they were nothing but welcoming over Christmas. But if Pippa knew, I’d put money on them all knowing.
Were they laughing behind my back?
No. They’re good people. I’m sure if they kept it quiet, it was for Lucas’s sake. They wouldn’t want to rock the boat.
But it also means none of them were honest with me.
I was about to become a part of their family.
I’m not sure there’s enough alcohol in this room to make me forget that.
Maybe if I empty the minibar …
* * *
How long has that alarm been blaring at me?
I shake my head to wake myself up. My brain’s on fire, and a quick glance at the minibar tells me I made short work of it last night.
Pain sears through my chest.
Pippa.
I push myself to my feet. Empty bottles litter the table, and I can smell the booze on myself.
Whoops.
Staggering to the wardrobe, I grab my suit and fold it into my bag. If it gets rumpled, I don’t care. I’m out of here.
I don’t bother checking out. It’s 9:30 a.m. and I have a flight in half an hour.
Thankfully, there’s a taxi right outside the hotel.
I’m sure I’ll regret this later.
“Deacon?”
Mallory’s voice comes from behind me. I swallow hard and turn. Confusion swamps her features, and her brows dip.
She’s got the coffee I asked her to get in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “Where are you going?” She screws up her nose. “And why do you smell like you’ve been drinking all night?” She places the bag on a bench beside her.
“I’m out of here.”
“What? Why?” She grabs my arm. “You’re supposed to be getting married in an hour and a half.”
“Pippa knows what she did.”
I tug my arm away from her and slide into the back of the taxi.
“You’ll regret this. She doesn’t deserve what you’re doing.”
Shrugging it off, I lean forward. “Let’s go.”
As soon as we’re on the road, my mobile rings, but I reject the call and shove the phone into my pocket. To hell with this.
To hell with everything.