Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
He doesn’t say a word, but his lips twitch in amusement as he leads us to the Piano Bar, my parents all but swooning over Arlington Hall. We sit at a table in the far corner, and Jude hands menus over to each of them. It’s then I remember we’ve already ordered our lunch.
“It’s in my apartment, probably cold by now,” Jude says quietly. “Just reorder.” He goes to the bar, and I lower next to my dad.
“So this is the Piano Bar,” he muses, scanning the menu.
“This is the Piano Bar.” I relax for the first time in a while and take in the wonder of my mum and dad sitting with me.
In Arlington Hall.
After meeting my new boyfriend.
And, better, accepting him.
I feel like a weight’s been lifted.
An hour later, I’m in my element listening to the easy conversation. Jude knows all about the family business and my grandparents, and he and Dad have found a common interest in rugby, of all things. Dad’s talked with keen interest.
“Jude’s brother plays for England.” I speak up, noticing that Jude, once again, hasn’t mentioned it himself.
“What?” Dad’s flabbergasted. “What’s your brother’s name? Wait. Wait a minute. Harrison! Well, would you believe it?” Dad looks at Mum and laughs. “Jude’s brother plays for the England rugby team.”
“Well, that’s impressive. So tell us about the rest of your family,” Mum says.
The atmosphere distinctly shifts, and I watch Jude discreetly as I nibble on a halloumi chip. “Well, there’s Rhys, as you know—he’s my littlest little brother. Then there’s Casey, my biggest littlest brother. He’s a chef.”
“Oh, where?”
“Private mostly. Yachts, dining experiences, that kind of thing. He won’t hang around the same place for long. I think the longest he’s ever stayed put was when he went to France and completed his degree in French culinary in his early twenties.”
“A chef, a sportsman, and a successful hotelier.” Mum looks at me, eyes wide, impressed. “Your parents must be so proud.”
I bite down on my lip, seeing Jude shifting in his chair. “Sadly, my parents are no longer with us.”
“Oh. Oh, that is a shame.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad says. “Were you very close?”
Jude looks out the corner of his eye to me. “Yes. My mother particularly, after she lost my father.”
I study Jude as I pick at the last few halloumi chips on my plate, seeing him withdrawing from the conversation. He lost his father too. I recall him mentioning with perfect clarity that he found it hard talking about his dad. Hard or angering? He can’t be mad at his dad for dying. I would never tell him so, but it seems so unfair for Jude to place blame for the loss of his mother.
Jude drops his napkin on his half-eaten plate. “How about I show you the nightclub that’s named after her?”
He avoids my questioning look, standing, and keen to discover more of Arlington Hall, both my parents stand too, finishing their drinks as they do.
“Wonderful,” Mum says as Jude walks them out and I follow. “Oh, I wish your grandma was here to see this.”
“It’s a shock enough that you are,” I counter sardonically.
“But it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?” She looks over her shoulder to me, her grin impish.
“Yes, I suppose so.” I watch Jude point out various things to Dad as we walk.
“The golf course is out the back there,” Jude tells him as we wander through one of the glass corridors. “Eighteen holes.”
“A golf course!” Dad looks back at me. “Why in the heck would you buy me lessons somewhere else if Jude has eighteen holes?”
I give Jude a tired look when he chuckles. “You’re grumbling about me dating a man who lives in another county because it’s too far, but you’re happy to travel for golf?”
“I don’t know where she gets her sarcasm from,” Dad muses, making Jude smile mildly. “It certainly isn’t me.”
“You’re welcome on the course anytime.”
“You know, I might take you up on that offer.”
“I had no idea how serious this was, Amelia,” Mum says quietly. “I’m so happy for you. But you really do need to be honest with Nick.”
The thought doesn’t thrill me at all. “I just need to find the right time and the right words. I can’t just text him.”
“I understand. And does Jude know about him?”
“Oh, he knows.” I laugh, but not in humour. Mum casts me a sideways, curious look. “Never mind.” I link arms with her. “Wait until you see Evelyn’s.”
We walk through the lobby, and Mum stops at the portrait. “Oh my, is this her, Jude? Your mother?”
“Yes, that’s her. Evelyn Harrison,” Jude says, observing his mother for a beat. “She passed away shortly after this portrait was painted.”
“Do you mind telling me how she died?”
Oh Jesus. I throw Jude an apologetic look that he catches, shaking his head lightly. “I think it’s what the romantics call a broken heart.” He’s visibly swallowing hard.