Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton Page 0,160
love London. Saz is there, and Frill-Seekers is getting lots of good PR. I know you mentioned before we could have a long-distance relationship, but I just don’t think I can cope with that again. Ty and I were apart so much.”
“No, I totally get it.” Tarquin’s brow furrowed. “But is it even possible? How would you be able to emigrate and work?”
“I can get a UK Ancestry visa. If you’re Canadian and have a grandparent who was born in the UK, you can apply that way.”
“Moving, though—it’s huge. I’d hate for you to have regrets.”
“Like I did in New York?” Leia gazed into his eyes. “I let you go twice before, Tarquin. I won’t let that happen again.”
He broke out into a smile. “Blimey! I’m speechless…for once!”
This will probably fix that. “So, can I move in with you?”
“Of course! I was going to ask but—oh, Leia! London is going to be smashing! We can re-decorate the flat, change up the furniture. Hey, we can turn one of the bedrooms into a Frill-Seekers workroom with dress forms and sewing machines. I’ll do anything for you, Leia. Just name it.”
She chuckled warmly. “Tarquin, I’m not making over your flat! All I want is you—and maybe a date to Simon and Freddie’s wedding next month.”
“What the lady wants, the lady gets.” He pulled her in for a sweet kiss.
Thirty-Two
TARQUIN
London, Saturday, December 21, 2019
Strings of fairy lights and silver garlands twinkled like glittery smiles across the large windows of Alex and Mark’s plush London Fields apartment, mirroring the joyous grins of Simon and Freddie’s wedding guests. The black-and-white-themed celebration was deep in champagne-soaked speeches, the first by a bubbly Alex (Simon’s best woman) and the second by Freddie’s best man, Mark. Overcome with emotion, the Irish actor ran a hand through his dark hair and playfully cursed under his breath before flashing a teary, eye-crinkling grin at the newlyweds. “Yeah, you got me, Freds.”
Digging into the front pocket of his tuxedo’s trousers, Mark whipped out a folded fifty-pound note, and Freddie jubilantly snapped the wager from his best friend’s fingers. Laughter burst from all corners of the room while a few guests whisked away happy tears, including Leia.
Tarquin set down his boulevardier and leaned in close, plucking a neatly ironed handkerchief from inside his tux jacket. “You okay, love?” he whispered over their half-eaten apple pie butter tarts, the dessert a nod to Simon’s Canadian heritage.
“I am. Thanks.” Leia accepted his offer. “I always cry at weddings.” She laughed faintly and carefully dabbed her eyes with his white cotton square.
Does tonight bring back memories of her own? Tarquin gazed at his girlfriend in her floor-length bias-cut white dress and softly rubbed her back, hoping his loving caress might soothe any bittersweet déjà vu. She gave him a reassuring grin and he reluctantly looked away, surveying their table of eight. Sarah and Jordan, Harry and Lucy, Spencer, and Alex’s larger-than-life grandmother Joan (who walked Freddie down the aisle) sat captivated by Mark’s heartfelt tribute.
“So, please join me”—Mark raised a huge grin and his glass of champagne—“in a toast to this beautiful couple.”
Tarquin, Leia, and all the guests held their flutes aloft in a fizzy celebration of love and hope.
Mark licked his lips and lifted his glass a touch higher. “To Freddie and Simon!”
“To Freddie and Simon!” Tarquin and Leia echoed in concert with fifty delighted voices.
“That was gorgeous.” Leia sniffed, lowering her glass as Mark was consumed at the head table by a rowdy, laughter-filled man hug. “So sincere and charming.”
Truly. Kudos to Keegan. Tarquin sipped his champagne. The noisy Freddie-Simon-Mark tangle of arms claimed its next victim, swallowing up Alex and her black party dress (a Frill-Seekers original) in its fumbling embrace. It’s funny how life turns out. Eighteen months ago, it was me and Lex. Now, she’s back with her soul mate, and I’m here with mine. He reached over to Leia and claimed her hand resting in her lap with his handkerchief as the DJ launched into Madonna’s “Cherish”, a favorite of Freddie’s. I hope we’re just as happy as Alex and Mark. And Simon and Freddie. Smiling, he weaved his fingers gently through hers. Together in London.
Leia squeezed back. “Tarquin, what’s the name of Mark’s TV series?”
“Lairds and Liars,” Lucy blurted, stealing a forkful of Harry’s tart. He knew better than to challenge her brazen dessert theft. “There are four seasons with a fifth coming in the spring. I’m still reeling from last season’s cliffhanger, the absolute fuckers.”