Interlude II

INTERLUDE II

Xavier

“ N othing more from the selection committee? Or Bernard?”

I adjusted the buttonhole flower on my lapel. A pink camellia, of course. It wouldn’t be anything else. I peered at myself in the floor-to-ceiling wardrobe mirror—one of the perks of my suite at The Plaza was a mirror large enough for me. There was something wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it. My hair was all right. Not too much product, since Ces liked it soft enough to run her fingers through. Tie straight. Cufflinks on.

I bared my teeth. Bright and white, nothing in them.

But something didn’t feel right.

“Mate,” Jagger asked beside me as he adjusted his tie in his reflection. “Is that really what you want to be worrying about on your wedding day?”

Today, Jagger wasn’t just my COO, but my best man, and he looked the part.

“I don’t want to be thinking about it when I’m at the altar,” I said as I combed through my hair again. A few stubborn pieces fell forward. Normally, they would bother me, but I happened to know Ces loved the look of a floppy-haired Englishman. She had watched too many Hugh Grant movies not to. With the state of her libido these days, all I had to do was forget the wax and roll up my sleeves, and my girl would tackle me onto the bed like we were playing rugby.

I sighed and fought not to yank at my tie. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t with my appearance.

Jagger and I returned to the sitting room, where Elsie was running down the list of to-do items we’d made yesterday.

“Anything from the committee?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing to me. I’ve been checking your mail daily. But I don’t think Lord Ortham has managed to waylay them. His warning last month was the best he could give you, I’m afraid.”

I scowled into another mirror near the lift, then waved away the concerns about Parliament. They could keep for another two weeks, when I was due in front of the committee. Today was for me. Ces and me. Nothing and no one else.

“What about the food?” I asked. “Was Adolfo able to find the Spanish mackerel for the starters? Or the cod roe for the udon? I heard there was a shortage.”

“He found both through that new vendor you secured last week,” Elsie confirmed. “The wine from Chateau de Colombe as well. The florist delivered all the camellias in the city to Chie, and the staff is ready and waiting. Everything is just as planned, boy. Don’t worry your head.”

“Like he’s ever been able to stop that,” Jagger remarked as he sat next to Elsie to tie his shoes.

I huffed. He might have been right. The problem with being in control all the time is that it’s nearly impossible to hand things off to others when it means so much. Francesca and I had a wedding planner to manage the pseudo-elopement, but that didn’t stop me from inserting myself into nearly every detail of what suddenly felt like the most important day of my life.

And why wouldn’t it? We’d been through the worst, Ces and me. We’d earned this day, our bit of bliss, our twist of fate coming to be at last. I didn’t want anything to ruin it.

“All right,” I conceded as I checked myself in the mirror one last time.

I’d gone with a midnight blue tuxedo instead of traditional black at Kate’s suggestion. Honestly, I never needed a stylist. This was more to get on the good side of at least one Zola sister. But I had to give it to her—she knew her stuff. Francesca always did love the color of my eyes, and this tux made them blaze.

“One more thing.” Elsie got up, pulled a box out of her purse, and held it out.

“Els,” I said, hands up. “You didn’t have to do this. I’m supposed to give the guests favors, not the other way around.”

“This isn’t a favor. It’s from your dear mum.”

Something inside me froze. The hole that had been inside my heart since I was sixteen ached and widened a bit when I realized exactly what had been bothering me.

It was her. Mum. She was missing, and no amount of faffing over my appearance could fix that.

Somehow, Elsie had known. Or maybe Mum had known it would come to this one day and had asked her friend to be prepared.

Swallowing thickly, I opened the box to find a lady’s brooch resting atop a black satin pocket square. Not terribly feminine—a simple, wavy gold bar cut with something that looked like scales. At the end, the bar flowered into a serpent’s head with a sapphire for an eye. It was less ferocious, more beautiful. Quite fierce, really.

“Bloody…” I drifted off as I looked at it. “This was hers?”

“She gave it to me to keep for you until the right time,” Elsie said. “She said it was a gift from your father.”

I looked up. “ Rupert gave her this?”

Of everything I’d ever heard of my parents’ “courtship,” tokens of love had never been a part of it.

Elsie sighed. “Your father did,” she concurred. “I thought you might want to wear it on your special day. Keep her—and him—with you. If you don’t like it, though?—”

“I do,” I interrupted. My throat felt like it was closing in as I picked up the pin and examined it, imagining my mother’s touch on the same parts. “Thank you, Els. Help me put it on?”

Elsie preened as she took the brooch from me and easily fixed it to my lapel just below the buttonhole. To my surprise, it fit like it was meant to be worn with this suit on this day.

“Yeah, mate,” Jagger said from the couch, looking it over. “You look top-notch, man. Perfect.”

A real compliment coming from my flash friend.

“She’d be so proud of you, boy.” Elsie clasped my face between her little palms, gray eyes shining behind round glasses. “Of the man you’ve become. But also of the world you’ve made for yourself with those girls. All she ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

I swallowed hard again, then leaned down to kiss her soft cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Els. You’ve been my mum when she couldn’t. Thank you.”

“Oh, dear, dear. None of that.” Elsie batted me away, then dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Though I will miss having you around.”

I watched her fondly, wanting another way to show her my gratitude for everything she’d done in my life.

“You know you can just stay at Mayfair, Els. You don’t have to keep your flat in Croydon after I move to New York for good.”

Elsie was a stubborn old girl. She’d kept the same little house in South London where she and her husband had lived for the short time they’d had before he passed away. Heart attacks, man. Lethal.

“Oh, no, I don’t need anything that fancy, goodness me,” she said. “Can you imagine me living in that castle of yours? I’d be expected to pop over to Buckingham Palace for tea, wouldn’t I?”

I chuckled. “Just say the word, Els. I don’t know if we’re going to sell it yet, but until then, it’ll just be sitting there empty. You might as well have use of it.”

“What about me?” Jagger asked. “How come I don’t get an invitation to the palace too?”

I snorted. “Mate, with what I pay you, you should be able to buy Buckingham Palace if you want it.”

Granted, the same applied to Elsie’s salary, especially now that she was promoted to CFO of the Parker Group, but she wouldn’t have wanted me to point that out, even in front of Jagger.

My friend just smirked knowingly and stroked his goatee. “True. The girlies in Camden would miss me too much if I left, anyway.”

“You really don’t think you’ll come back again after the title is settled?” Elsie wondered. “I should imagine you’d want to keep a home in London.”

I mumbled something about yes, maybe, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure. We could maybe fix up the flat in Croydon or find something smaller near Hyde Park. But London was feeling less and less like home these days—probably because my real one lived on this side of the ocean. Maybe one day, I’d convince Francesca to try relocating again. But despite the fact that there wasn’t a decent pub in New York and I couldn’t find a good pasty if my life depended on it, I wasn’t sure I cared so much about living in London anymore.

I’d finally learned the truth: that family meant more than the right food or buildings or accents or the rest. Family meant who’d be there for you no matter what, who’d show up when you needed them, every time.

I didn’t have that in England. Maybe with Jagger and Els, sure. But Ces had a whole mass of them here, and therefore, so would my children. I couldn’t deny them that. The Zolas were still coming round to me—I had a feeling that Matthew was itching to break my nose if he could. But I knew it was only a matter of time before they accepted me as one of their own.

Turns out, I could be patient after all.

In fact, I was looking forward to it.

“Xav,” Jagger pulled me out of my thoughts as he stood and nodded toward the lift. “It’s time, mate.”

I straightened and adjusted my tie once more, almost like I was going into battle. At the very least, the unknown.

See, I’d been a lot of things in my life.

Son. Bastard. Heir.

Friend. Chef. CEO.

Duke. Father. Fiancé.

I’d chased them all with everything I had, poured my blood, sweat, and sometimes even tears into every label.

But husband felt like the most important title of all. And I was determined to do it right. To only hold it once.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s find Francesca. I’m ready to make my girl into my wife.”