Wren is breathtaking.
He's styled his hair from the tousled nest it was earlier, a silk black shirt poking out from underneath his blazer jacket. At least four buttons are undone, revealing his chest tattoos, as well as the body of a snake wrapping itself around his neck and trailing into his collar bone. He wears a thin chain and silver chunky rings. Entirely in black, he looks like a dark angel. His piercing gaze stabs into mine, instantly softening as his mouth opens slightly. He looks at me in utter wonder, and it terrifies me. No one has ever looked at me before with such magnetic force. His hand slowly extends out to me and my heart pounds in my chest, my feet protesting to make the final step down to him.
“Wife, you look devastatingly gorgeous.” He says, voice gravelly and low. I’m thankful that his eyes never leave mine, feeling so vulnerable and exposed.
“Wife?”
That devilish smirk rolls across his lips as his hand dips inside his blazer, producing a familiar red card that he holds up between two fingers. “I’m playing Mr Wilson. Rival club owner and not so fantastic husband. You're my wife for the weekend.” His eyes practically twinkle.
I left my card upstairs because I don't have a bag nor pockets, but it hits me that Corbin purposely left off my note who my partner would be for the evening. I can't help but question why he's paired me with Wren. Up until today we’d never met, our only connection being our shared best friend, who to my knowledge never catered to us meeting.
“Robin, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, and I realise he’s been standing there with his hand extended for me to take. I think my nerves finally snap, as my arms start to shake, along with my head. My voice doesn't sound like mine, it's more of an unsettling croak.
“I–I can't wear this,” I wave one hand down my body and my eyes start to prickle and burn. “It's really sheer and I–I’m not wearing…I don't have…” I hiccup and something wet hits my cheek.
He's suddenly right in front of me, bending his head low to find my eyes hidden by my long bangs. His hands gently touch my elbows, which makes more tears start to fall.
“Why would Corbin make me wear something like this, here.” I grind my teeth together, willing myself to stop crying because he doesn’t deserve any more of my tears. I can't deny the dress is so beautiful, but it’s not something I would dream to wear in the daytime, around my friends. I might as well be letting them all see me in just my knickers.
Wren's voice is gentle as he speaks, but there's a tenseness to him. “Because he is a piece of shit. Robin, you look absolutely stunning in this dress. I swear on my life you do. But if you feel uncomfortable, we can get you something else to wear.”
“He’s my ex boyfriend.” I barely whisper, not wanting to look at him because the words feel ugly.
His soft fingers touch my chin and it sends a warm jolt through my entire body, like it had in the library. “That makes him an even bigger arsehole,” he holds the red card up betweenour bodies. “He's made you a character married to an abusive alcoholic.”
I run the edge of my hand under one eye and then the other. “Yeah but you're not actually like that, it’s a game. It's not like you're going to go full method actor on me.” I try to lighten the mood as I always do, but my tone is flat and he looks unconvinced that I’m ok. I’m really not, but I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me with so much concern.
“It's still not very respectful to you.” He takes one step back down before he rolls his shoulders out of his blazer, taking it off to reveal a black leather shoulder holster, obviously empty. The laugh that escapes me seems to stun him momentarily, before he drapes the blazer over my body and my hands snake into the sleeves. It’s huge on me, but covers most of my body and thank god, my bum.
“You look like a Capulet. You know, from the movie. Leguizamo was such a dish.”
His smile shows a flash of his white canine. “Oh so you have a thing for dark and handsome? Don’t talk about other men, Wife. You’ll make me jealous.”
I roll my eyes and take a step down, putting me eye level with his open shirt and tattooed chest. I need to seriously bring myself out of whatever spelling he’s able to cast over me.
“Thankyou for this. The dress is probably fine. I’m sure I’ll just get over it.” I say detached, repeating over and over in my head to stay away from him, like Lily would want me to. I think she weirdly wants a claim on him if Willow doesn’t kill her first.
”Robin.” He breathes my name out on a sigh, but I cut him off.
“No, honestly it’s fine. I’m going to go down first.”
He flinches, his beautiful smile disappearing into a tight frown and I don’t miss the hurt that flashes in his gorgeous green eyes. They look so sad.
I don’t think he’s going to move, but then he nods and steps out of the way for me to pass. Holding the banister I descend down the stairs, not looking back but I feel him watching me the entire way, until I disappear around the corner into the dining room which is now alive with activity.
THE housekeeper Maggie flutters around the long table like a hummingbird, sorting seating cards as she goes. Pursing her lips, she stares at the stack in her hands; looking up again to analyse her progress. She's a stout, grey haired woman who I think I've only ever seen in wellies and checked trousers. Her woolen jumpers always look so cosy, but today it's nowhere to be seen as she wears a long, pleated floral shirt dress. It hits me that the last time I would have seen her was before Christmas, back when I’d intended to make a personal connection. Back when Nightingale house was going to be mine.
"It's lovely to see you again, Miss Osbourne. I'm happy for your departure, you know." She says in a broad Scottish accent, her no bullshit expression schooling me. "Hope you're not feeling any shame escaping that one." She stands straight as I just blush, her hip popping as she slaps the cards against her open palm not once, but twice. "Good. Champagne and canapes are on the patio, go enjoy yourself. Be watching him though."
I find how naturally maternal she is so charming that it squeezes my chest. I can't seem to form words and I think it's because unlike my friends, Maggie actually witnessed first hand my relationship ending. They know only what I tell them, but she was there to see the shattering of my heart and the life I left bleeding out in this very house. I never want to think about the solatule life I almost chose for myself again, the one where Maggie would of been my house keeper, in this giant place that only homed a lonely writer and a man who fucked anyone who wasn’t his girlfriend.
My smile feels wobbly as I nod at her, shuffling quickly out of the dining room to go find alcohol. I'm absolutely going to need a couple of drinks to make it through tonight.
As I step outside, I'm instantly met by warmth. The sun kissing the trees as it starts its descent. Everything below the patio is dressed to the nines, as if Gatsby himself was throwing this party. Gold and black balloons of all shapes float and sway from where they are attached to tables. Sparkling stars hang from trees, netting what shade they create into the perfect party backdrop. Glitterballs and items like feathers are placed on all surfaces, along with alcohol, glasses and flowers. I instantly imagine flappers dancing, speakeasies and gangsters. The team hired have gone above and beyond to bring the swinging twenties to life.
A breeze drifts by with a little relief from the lake and I turn my face down into the lapel of Wren's jacket. His blazer smells like sandalwood and mint, his scent causing tingles to form in my lower belly. I shiver at how good it smells, before a slim hip knocks into me and I almost topple over, into a welcome table of champagne. Nimble fingers grab me by the blazer as a familiar laugh steadies not only my physical form, but my nerves too. Phin lets out a low whistle as he takes my hand and twirls me in a circle, my shoulders losing some of the tension I'd built since getting dressed in my room.
“Well see here Missy, that dress is mighty fine.” Putting on a thick accent I can only guess is his attempt at being a gangster, he gives me one of his devastating winks. A laugh bursts from my lips and I stand back so I can take in his costume. As expected Phin has rolled with a gold theme, his oversized shirt white, but with gold flowers and scatters of glitter entwined in them. It matches his painted nails perfectly. His shirt is tucked into high waisted tailored trousers, braces holding them up. He wears shiny pointy shoes and I want to laugh, because accompaniedwith a chunky gold tie and cream fedora, he looks eccentrically ridiculous. It was completely what I expected from him and a whole world more.
