Touched, he spoke directly to her, even if he slurred. “That was a thoughtful geshure. My mother was a talented artist.”
“And a dear friend I mourn every day,” she replied. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” As though the other five people were not present, he added, “Sho, how did you come by the painting?”
“She gave it to me before I left for Paris.”
“Did you know she had cancer?”
“No. I wouldn’t have gone had I known.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because, I could have been there for her, and ... you needed me.”
“He didn’t need you.Iwas there for himandhis sister,” Caroline blurted.
Abruptly, he stood toppling over a water goblet. Throwing a linen napkin onto the spill, he turned to leave.
“Hold up!” Wickham exclaimed. “The two of you, Lizzy? Oh, this is another rich coincidence!”
“Fucking sherendipity,” he said under his breath. Enraged for so many reasons—most especially because Lizzy would have stayed in New York for hismotheryet had no compunction to leavehimand their love affair—he turned back to face the table. To the visible shock of all, he blurted, “Yeah, the two of us, and we wereincredibletogether until she threw it away! Apparently, she’s lowered her sshtandards since then.”
He stormed from the ballroom for the bathroom.
THIRTEEN
Without question, Darcy’s drunkenness had turned him into a pariah. As iftheirattendance was the preferred company to keep, all his friends had disappeared from his side—even his fiancée. He hated—absolutely loathed—that everyone could see what he felt inside! So, in an effort to keep himself in tight control, occupy his boredom, and continue to plan ruination to all, he camped out at the bar, engaging the bartender until last call. In the absence of Sean, his bodyguard, he enlisted the guy in his schemes over scotch, then vodka. The two had quite a few laughs concocting everyone’s demise. His Russian babe, named Stoli, was his only love interest tonight. God, he missed the broad these six years.
Raising his glass to his lips, he searched for Caroline in the diminishing crowd, then Charlie, but his gaze fell to Wickham making moves on a young waitress at the far end of the ballroom. Once a disgusting, oozing dick always one. And, of course, he then searched for Lizzy, hoping that she would catch her fiancé in the act. He chortled, then raised his glass to her seated beside the jealous sister—because that’s what was at the heart of “The Breakup:” Jane’s sheer jealousy over Lizzy’s unconditional happiness and healthy liberation from their screwed-up family. Maybe that’s why his planning of Lizzy’s emotional ruination felt hollow even if he was pissed off that, once again, she held the power in her pinky to make or break him then shove him off the wagon.
He pointed his finger at the bartender, barely able to string together a sentence. “Between you and me, Chrish ... I am inebriated ... this isthewedding from ... hell.”
To make matters worse, the CEO of Sonic Defense flipped him the bird, but that, along with losing his impenetrable veneer and disrespecting the Darcy name by getting soused, wasn’t the worst of it. That moment came when the band guitarist strummed the beginning of a country ballad he knew well and, in a broken heartbeat, every ounce of remaining animosity he held for Lizzy sank to the bottom of his rocks glass when he placed it on the bar.
“What-I-tell-ya? Fuckin’ Hellll…”
Keith Urban was calling him to grow a pair, and for that, he needed to check his resentment and muster his bravery.
He buttoned his tux jacket, then cricked his neck. With startling clarity and willDarcypower, he miraculously strode across the dance floor—without tripping.
Stopping to face Lizzy on the other side of the table, he startled her with a jolt.
“Oh! William!”
Pulse speeding, he held out one hand, placing the other over his heart. “May I have this dance?”
“Can you evenstand?” Jane bitterly asked.
Ignoring her, he continued to hold Lizzy’s attention with an open palm and eyes locked on hers.
She pushed back her chair.
“Don’t, Lizzy. You’ve come so far in your career,” Jane cautioned. “Need I remind you?—you’re getting married in eight weeks.” The evil woman grabbed Lizzy’s wrist. “What about George?”
He couldn’t believe his ears when Lizzy’s tone brooked no opposition. “Let go of me, Jane.”
“You’ll be sorry and I’m not going to come to the rescue to pick up the pieces, again!”
