Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Emily’s not here, Grandmother,” I cut in. “She’s still at her pitch meeting for Fletchers. And I know she adored Nuggy, but I can’t, in good conscience—”
“Oh, that’s right. That’s today. How could I have forgotten?” she asks with a laugh, clearly planning on ignoring my protests until she gets her way. As usual. “Well, she should be done soon, and news that she’s going to be a dog mum will only add to the causes for celebration.”
I roll my eyes at Edward, earning a wince of sympathy from my brother, who can no doubt hear every word. It’s not like Suze is making any effort to keep her voice down. “She might not get the job, Grandmother. But if she does, and if an opportunity to discuss the possibility of—”
“Oh, pish, of course she’ll get it,” she cuts in. “She’s already got it. It’s in the bag, as they say. The meeting was a formality.”
My stomach tightens as dread creeps in, like a cold breeze through poorly insulated boards. “What do you mean?”
“I placed a call, Oliver. As soon as I heard your American was here to pitch for the gala,” she says, sounding pleased with herself. “Did you think I wouldn’t? You know I’ve been dear friends with James and his family for years. And what are connections for if not to use them? Emily will be planning that gala and likely several more high-profile events before I’m through.”
“Grandmother, you should have spoken to me first,” I say, torn between patience for the quirks of the older generation and the part of me that’s positive Emily will be furious. “This isn’t the way things are done. Not anymore.”
She makes a dismissive sound. “Oh, pish, Olly, of course it is. This is exactly how things are done. Don’t be naïve. And an American in London needs all the help she can get.”
“I have to go,” I say, dread swelling larger as I begin to suspect this might have something to do with the fact that Emily hasn’t texted. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“I just wanted to make it easier for you two to be together,” Grandmother says. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
“This isn’t about me,” I say. “This is about respecting Emily’s boundaries when it comes to work and our relationship and dog ownership and everything else.” Before she can reply, I add firmly, “I’ll call you later. Please tell Gretchen I hope she feels better soon, but that I can’t confirm anything about the dog at this time.”
And then, I do something I’ve never done before—I hang up on my Grandmother.
“Well, shit,” Edward says, the rare curse confirming this is bad.
Perhaps even very bad.
I try to pull in a deeper breath, but my chest is tight, and it suddenly feels like the tinsel-covered walls are closing in.
“Do you think she realized it was rigged somehow?” Edward asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. But I need to talk to her. In person,” I say, scrolling over to my Find Your Folks app. “Is it creepy to track her down with technology?”
“Yes, but desperate times call for desperate measures,” Edward says. “And as long as she shared her location with you willingly.”
“She did. It was actually her idea, in case we…” I trail off as I find Emily’s dot on the screen.
It’s moving. Fast. And not toward the café or the flat. She’s clearly in a vehicle, headed west.
Straight for the airport.
“She’s headed to Heathrow,” I say, already out of my chair and reaching for my coat. “I have to go.”
“I’ll drive you,” Edward says, on his feet beside me. “My car’s in the garage at the end of the block, by the hotel.”
We explode out of the café just as Bagpipe Father Christmas launches into a torturous version of Jingle Bells. The street is packed. Holiday shoppers swarm the sidewalks, and a massive group on a historic walking tour clogs the corner, making it take twice as long to get down the block.
By the time we reach the garage, panic is setting in fully.
Emily must have found out about Grandmother’s interference somehow, in a way that made her feel so thoroughly betrayed that she headed straight for the airport without saying goodbye.
It must have been something truly awful.
And she probably thinks I had something to do with it.
Fuck!
Please don’t let her get on a plane, I beg the universe as we finally reach Edward’s car and begin the impossibly slow crawl out to the street. Please, please, please.
She has to at least give me the chance to explain.
Right?
“She’s not going to want to hear a word out of my mouth, is she?” I ask Edward. “She’s going to think I’m a liar who can’t be trusted.”
“No,” Edward says. “She’s a reasonable woman. Surely, she’ll—”
“I lied to her the night we met,” I cut in, needing to confess my sins. Needing Edward to know just how dire this could be. “I lied about who I was, and she was so angry, she tried to end it immediately. Even though we’d just had a fantastic night and even more fantastic…you know.”