Page 91 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye
We? Babe?! She’s WITH this guy? Like boyfriend-girlfriend? A burning sensation rose in Tarquin’s throat. Leia, come on! Seriously? He’s got a MAN BUN, for heaven’s sake!
She skirted Tarquin’s gaze and combed a hand through the ends of her wet locks. “Xavi, you go ahead. I still have to change. But we’ll talk later?”
With a lustful stare, Xavi scooped up his file of papers. “You know it!” He winked at Tarquin. “Ciao, dude! Good to see you!” Lowering his shades, he confidently strode away, toned back muscles flexing beneath his tight black cotton shirt.
I can’t fucking believe she’s with this guy! Tarquin seethed, his glare practically searing a hole through Xavi’s departing man bun.
“So…” Leia fiddled with her towel and stepped closer, breaking the palatable silence. “Sarah mentioned business is going well.”
Sarah mentioned me? Tarquin’s frown lifted. “Yeah, yeah it is! Lots of new properties on the go, but I’ve always got time for a trip to New York. It’s great to be back!” I know she’s going gangbusters. Simon said her friend wore a Frill-Seekers gown to a film premiere last month and her phone’s been ringing off the hook. “And you?”
“Really good! I have an investor now, so I’ll be showing Frill-Seekers’ fall/winter collection during New York Fashion Week next February.”
I didn’t know that! “Leia!” Tarquin beamed. “That’s amazing!”
“Thanks! It’s been A LOT of work. Some all-night sessions over the last week.”
Argh! Please tell me those nights didn’t involve that man bun fuckwit—
“HEY!” Nick’s arm snaked around Tarquin’s shoulders. “I can’t bloody believe this! Xavi says this stunner is called Leia! Surely not YOUR Leia?”
‘Your Leia?’ Tarquin’s jaw tensed. Worst fucking timing ever, Nick! Leia will hate that.
She smirked and eyed up the elder Balfour. “And you must be Nick. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
He dropped his arm from Tarquin’s shoulder. “Oh, arse!” He glared at his brother. “The bloody Mail?”
“Uh…no? I don’t read gossip.” Leia pulled her towel tight, stealing another glance at Tarquin, her eyes searching his face. “Well…it’s great to see you. I hate to say hi and bye, but I’m meeting a makeup artist about my show”—she woke up her phone—“shit! Ten minutes ago!” She scowled at the screen and tapped into her contacts, muttering under her breath. “Please still be there.”
She’s gonna leave! Adrenaline raced through Tarquin’s veins, pushing words from his tongue. “Harry’s club opens tonight,” he blurted. “You should come!”
“Uh…” Leia’s panicked eyes flitted up as she raised the phone to her ear. “Um, okay.” She blinked into a subtle grin. “Sounds fun! Text me the info?” She stepped back, her gaze lingering.
“Great! I think you’ll like the place.” Tarquin’s thumbs flew over his screen. “We’ve kept all its historic character—”
“She’s gone, bro,” said Nick.
Tarquin looked up. Leia was rushing along the far side of the pool, talking a mile a minute into her phone.
• • •
Filmmakers, writers, musicians, and A-list celebrities swarmed the Thursday night opening of Bespoke New York, making Harry Manville’s private club the hot ticket for young creatives and entrepreneurs. Potential members sipped champagne and dined on sweet potato croquettes, bite-sized Angus beef burgers, and mini gourmet grilled cheese while checking out the welcoming interior of reclaimed wood, vintage-inspired lamps, and tufted wingback chairs spread out over four large floors and a rooftop terrace.
“He’s done it again,” said Nick, watching Harry mingle with his American clientele. “It’s only ten o’clock and this place is already rammed. This crowd doesn’t usually head out until eleven—at the earliest—so that’s saying something.” He did a double take, catching Tarquin tossing back his fourth glass of bubbly. “Hey! Pace yourself, little brother. You’ll be sozzled by the time she gets here.”
“If she gets here.”
“She’ll come with Xavi.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Tarquin blinked, his scratchy contact lenses feeling like a sheet of sandpaper in his eye. I had to opt for style over comfort tonight, didn’t I? Should I head to the loos, switch to glasses? What if I miss her while I’m in there? He placed his empty champagne flute on a passing tray then tugged at the cuffs of his suit jacket, the one Leia liked, the one he’d worn for their goodbye dinner and secret shag on Tower Bridge. Seven months later and look at me. I thought I’d moved on, but seeing her was like throwing gasoline on smoldering embers. If I could just speak to her alone, apologize for not emailing back all those months ago…
He stopped fussing with his Darth Vader cufflinks and pulled out his phone. Shit. Zero notifications. I can feel her slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do about it. His frown roamed the sea of revelers, their relaxed smiles and carefree laughter doing little to calm the unease rolling in his stomach. A foot away, a flock of leggy models lingered, giving him and his brother approving come-hither glances. “Still nothing from Leia. I hope that doesn’t mean what I—”
“Tarq! Relax, will ya? Here. Take this.” Nick thrust another glass of champagne at his brother and traded mischievous smiles with their flirty audience. “Christ, do you have to be such a buzzkill?”
“Nick, promise me—when Leia shows, you’ll bugger off.”
A server leaned in with a tray of bite-sized indulgences. “Pork slider with apple chutney?”
