“Finally! And, it was better than I remembered.” She sat up, attempting to straighten her hair-sprayed mess.
He remembered doing it twice, because once with Lizzy was never enough, but she wasn’t Lizzy!
Shoving his feet into his trousers, he groaned. “Jesus, did we at least use protection?”
“Yes, of course! I’ve been on the pill for ages.” She rolled her eyes. “Uh ... contract clause 485 double i, remember?”
“The pill isn’t one-hundred percent fool-proof.”
“Darcy, you’re going to be my husband in a couple of months. It’s no big deal if we move the schedule up a bit. I’m sure it won’t nullify the contract.”
“I ... I’m sorry ... it wasn’t supposed to happen, Caroline. Damn!”
“Don’t apologize. The drink totally rewired your libido.” She chuckled. “You’re a lot more compliant when vodka rushes to your equipment. My God, you—”
“Stop!”
“But Darcy—”
“No, no, no, no no! Beanz, Idon’tlove you.”
“Fine. I don’t love you either. I love your dick, but not you. Jeez, you’re like the only guy on the planet who has a problem with having sober, sexual pleasure with his fiancée.”
Would she ever understand him? He looked out at the rough sea, feeling sick to his stomach. A storm brewed out there and in his heart. None of this made any sense. Had it been a drunken fantasy or had he mistaken Caroline for Lizzy in his delirium?It wouldn’t have been the first time. It’s what got him into this whole Marriage Pact situation. If it wasn’t a fantasy and he had actually made love to Lizzy, as he believed, then ... she left him ... again.
Running his hand through his salty, stiff hair, he blurted, “I ... I have to go take a shower. Look, I’m sorry if I jumped the gun last night, and I’m sorry for embarrassing you and your family. I’ll make an apology to your sister and parents after breakfast, and then I’ll fly back to the city.” A Darcy should neverhaveto apologize, but he had been over-the-top unhinged thanks to the drink.I was a fool to think she’d come to me and love me again.He wanted to cry.
Caroline snorted. “Oh, please. You don’t need to apologize to them. Whatever you did wasn’t nearly as bad as Hurst. Jeez, talk about an embarrassment. My grandmother stopped him from peeing on the potted palm tree during the cocktail hour—in front of the editor ofNYC Bridemagazine!Yourdrunkenness was at least entertaining, and you managed to keep it in your pants ... until, you know. As for your beatdown of George, everyone thinks you’re a mental case.” She shrugged. “He’ll survive. He always bounces back.”
“It was long overdue. Stay away from him, Beanz. I mean it. There are things every woman should know about him.”
“Oooo, that sounds juicy. Tell me.”
He simply shook his head.
“Then you’ll tell Lizzy?”
Doing a double-take, he furrowed his brow. “No. She made her bed, and it’s none of my business.”
“What do you mean by ‘gone’? To breakfast? A walk on the beach? Crazy? Please define.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Darcy, but Ms. Bennet checked out at six this morning,” the clerk said. “Maybe she’s headed home?”
“Did she leave a message for me?”
She checked the box. “No, sir.”
“Thank you,” he grumbled, stepping away from the counter.
“Oh, but her traveling companion, Mr. Wickham, is still occupying the room until tomorrow if you need to get a message to her.”
Interesting.“No, thank you.”
Holding a coffee cup in one hand and a garment bag in the other, he stood at the inn’s entrance, lost in deep thought, staring at the limos circling in the drive. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie’s frankness (finally, after all these years) about The Breakup came forth from last night’s drunken fog. His friend was right; he should have fought for Lizzy. He should have paid close attention to her reasons instead of shutting her down and tossing his phone. He should have followed her—with the ring—to Paris, but his pride had been wounded, and he bolted. So many should-haves, so many regrets. Sucking at relationships—as evident by his past and present predicaments—he wished his mother were alive to advise him on what he should do, but she had on her deathbed, and he brushed it off in his grief. Perhaps Gigi, a self-proclaimed relationship expert, might impart some Gen Z wisdom.
Caroline startled him with a pinch to his backside. “Are you going back to the townhouse? Shall I meet you there tomorrow?”
“No. I’ll be at the office, then my apartment.”
