Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton Page 0,162

of her bubbly then wrinkled her nose. The truth is, I’d happily propose to her right now if I didn’t fear it was too much, too soon. Moving countries, moving in with me—that’s already A LOT.

She abandoned her champagne and swayed in close, caressing his clean-shaven chin and pressing a kiss on his temple. Tarquin responded in kind. He softly brushed his fingers along her neck and met her lips with a long, tender kiss, the taste of celebration still on her tongue.

“I love you,” she purred against his mouth.

“I love you. So much.”

Leia smiled into another kiss then gently pulled away.

I want her, and only her. Tarquin’s eyes lingered lovingly over her white silk dress. For as long as we both shall live.

A loud, high-pitched symphony of cutlery against glass rose from Tom and Naomi’s table an elbow away, demanding the newlyweds kiss for all to see.

Simon winced over his shoulder. “Oh, Tom, not again.” His eyes cut back to his new husband. “It’s so tacky!”

Freddie raised his brows, ever hopeful. “But it’s tradition, Si!” He smiled sweetly, the trio of sparkly Christmas trees behind him lending a romantic glow. “I love all that stuff.”

Simon’s expression softened. “And I love you. Come on, let’s give the people what they want!” He brushed Freddie’s cheek adoringly and kissed him, slowly, passionately.

Loud whoops and applause rose around the room as Tarquin refilled Sarah’s champagne and Leia opened her drawstring purse, pulling out her phone.

“I have to tell you, Tarq…” Sarah admired the fizzy bubbles rising in her glass. “Dad wants us to have a Star Wars marathon over the Christmas break. Original trilogy, of course!”

“Oh, TOP idea! I’m in!” The round table quaked as Tarquin set down the magnum of champagne. “Although, Ginger will…” He did a double take.

Leia swallowed and flipped her phone face down in her lap.

Uh-oh! “Bugger! You saw it, didn’t you?” He winced comically, throwing Sarah a sidelong glance. “I may have borrowed some of Leia’s new fabrics for Mrs. Chuzzlewit’s Instagram photo this morning…” He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, photo at the ready. “See? She looks like a nun! A very miserable, unamused nun.”

Sarah squealed with laughter. “Ooh, doghouse for you, Tarq. Never touch the fabrics!”

The Spice Girls burst forth in all their sassy glory from Leia’s phone. Her eyes swept around the table. “Sorry! Uh, just…”

“Saved by the bell,” Tarquin murmured with a chuckle.

Sarah swallowed another mouthful of champagne. “Ley, just send it to voicemail.”

“I have to take it.” She hit accept and pushed back her chair, pressing the phone to her ear. “Hi, just gimme a moment?” Smiling tightly, she lowered it to her chest and squeezed Tarquin’s shoulder. “Won’t be a minute.”

He snickered, eyeing her dessert. “For the sake of your apple tart, you better not!” His cheeky gaze swung up to meet her. “Love you!”

Leia hesitated as if she was treasuring the moment. “I love you, too.”

She twisted away and sped toward the hall, the staccato click-click-click of her silver heels on the hardwood lost in another round of tinkling champagne glasses, merry laughter, and “Wonderwall” strumming its last gasp.

LEIA

God, I feel sick. Leia’s stomach plunged like an elevator snapped loose of its cables. How is this happening? Shoulders shaking in the evening chill, she paced wildly, fighting back sobs as the muffled voice glued to her ear finally took a breath.

“Three other women?!” Leia gasped into her phone, her manic steps crunching the frost-licked grass on the edge of London Fields. “You think you know someone—” A knot choked her throat and sudden tears swelled in her eyes, breaching her lashes.

The life she had so lovingly stitched together wasn’t just unravelling. It was ripping apart.

Her watery stare vaulted upward. The jolly Christmas lights and steamed-up windows of Alex and Mark’s second-floor apartment framed happy silhouettes, swaying and flailing, their frenetic dance accompanied by Saint Etienne’s “No Cure for the Common Christmas”. A mix of spirited accents and raucous laughter—Tarquin’s laugh?—cut through the music, and Leia’s heart splintered into a thousand little pieces.

“Leia, I’m so sorry…I really didn’t have a choice.” Breathy and pained, the voice on the phone released a woeful sigh.

“No! This isn’t your fault. None of it is, okay? Please believe that,” Leia begged through chattering teeth, her bare arms prickled with goose bumps. “And don’t worr—”

“Sorry! Have to go! They’re giving me evil stares.”

Leia flinched. “Uh, okay. Talk tomorrow?”

“Promise. Love you, Ley, bye.”

Three beeps signaled the caller was gone.

What am I going to do?!

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