I had a feeling that this weekend was getting deeper than either of us had intended, in more ways than one. I had been stupid to think I could come here and pretend without anyone I knew finding out or coming across us. To do this without consequences. And I had been stupid to think we could act like friends – or simply colleagues – with a few kisses here and there that wouldn’t mean a thing.
We were never going to be simply colleagues again. I’d looked into Xavi’s eyes and seen his deep insecurities, his need for validation. I’d begun to understand so much more about him, and the reason why he acted like he did. If he pretended that nothing mattered to him, if he screwed everything up and gave them a reason to fire him, then it wouldn’t be that he lost it all because people didn’t like him. It wouldn’t be rejection, just consequences.
I knew now that he couldn’t bear rejection, couldn’t bear to be told he wasn’t good enough. I believed him when he said he wasn’t interested in Ace anymore. Maybe he never really had been in the first place. But when Ace settled down with a real boyfriend and wasn’t interested in casual sex with Xavi anymore…
What a rejection that must have been in his mind.
No wonder he wanted to prove to Ace, more than anyone else in his life, that he was doing okay and perfectly capable of pinning down a relationship.
I straightened up, taking a deep breath. Enough. I needed to go back to the table before it was suspicious that I had been gone for so long. There was time enough to think about Xavi and this new light I was seeing him in. For now, I had to get back and pretend and put a smile on my face and at least try to genuinely have a good time.
I stepped outside – and almost collided with someone rushing by, a man dressed like a member of staff. I almost dropped my cane in an attempt to stop him from falling over, getting flashbacks to Deon and Xavi all over again. People really needed to slow down while they were walking past doors.
“Sorry!” he muttered, straightening himself up. He was younger than me and nervous-looking, with tightly-curled dark hair and a smattering of freckles right across his face and the bridge of his nose. He was adorable, but not really my type – and besides, he looked stressed out.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. “You look like you’re in a rush.”
“Um,” he said, and paused, looking in both directions. For a moment, at least, we were alone. “Well, I don’t… um, are you with the wedding party?”
“I’m a guest,” I said. He looked like a nervous bird that was about to fly off if I approached too quickly. “What’s going on?”
He bit his lip, his face twisting into a tortured expression. “I don’t know if I should…”
“Look,” I said. “Whatever this is, it’s obviously causing a big problem. I’m only a guest. I’m here as someone’s plus one. If I can help, just let me know.”
He was casting around in every direction, but I was the only hope in sight. He clutched a hand against his chest, where his heart was clearly hammering a mile a minute. “Someone is trying to get in and ruin the day for the grooms, and we haven’t been able to figure out where she is, and if this all goes wrong then I’m probably going to be fired, and I just can’t find her!”
“Okay, slow down,” I said. He needed to take a breath. Every word seemed to run into the last, so quickly I had to concentrate to even understand what he was saying. “What do you mean, she’s trying to ruin the day?”
“She was trying to get into the ceremony so she could stand up when they were asking if anyone knew of a legal reason to stop the wedding,” he explained. He was rubbing his hands together, almost wringing them. I’d never someone who was nervous enough to actually physically wring his hands before. “We got her out, but then she came back in somehow. Someone saw her and she ran off. She’s somewhere here in the hotel, but we just don’t know where, and she’s got paint.”
“Paint?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“She was going to throw it on them if they got married after she objected,” he said miserably. “Oh, god. It was my responsibility to get her out. I should have followed her and made sure she actually drove away. I just watched her go to her car and I thought that was it, and I had to come back inside and get the room ready for dining and move all the tables around, and then I had to go to the kitchen and grab some things, and then housekeeping had an emergency…”
“Okay,” I said, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. He almost jumped at the contact, as if he wasn’t expecting it, so I pulled back. “What’s your name?”
“Jesse.” He gave the word with almost a sob behind it as if he thought I was going to use this information to get him in trouble.
I was planning on the opposite.
“Jesse,” I said. “What else can you tell me about this woman?”
“She’s an ex of one of the grooms,” Jesse said. “And she’s crazy.”
I nodded. I would have liked even more information, but he was clearly in no good headspace. “Alright. I’m going to go and get some help. Just wait here.”
Jesse looked like he was going to faint at the idea of waiting or delaying at all, but he nodded briefly and I hurried back towards the restaurant. My cane tapped across the marble floor way too loudly, fast but not fast enough. There were very few times when I let myself care too much about my disability – it was just part of me, not something to be liked or disliked or regretted – but right now was one of them. I wanted to go faster, and my body couldn’t provide it.
I hustled over to Xavi as quickly as I could, leaning down to whisper in his ear rather than bothering to sit. It would take me too long to get back up. “There’s a problem outside,” I hissed.
Xavi looked up at me with a frown. His plate was empty and mine was still half-full, and I regarded the rest of my meal with regret. By the time we’d finished dealing with this, the waiters would probably have taken it away.
But that didn’t matter. Someone needed our help, and I’d seen immediately how it could work for Xavi.
Seeing my insistence, he got up, shuffling me to the back of the room where there was less chance we would be overheard. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“There’s an ex of one of the grooms going around the hotel, planning to pour paint on them at some important moment, and the staff need some help,” I said. “They’re stretched too thin. But someone needs to stop this part of the day from getting ruined.”
