S’more to Lose by Beth Merlin (18)

Chapter Eighteen

After I dropped Thom’s car back at the garage, I headed to my apartment to change clothes and put away my things before going to the studio. I’d called Jamie on the drive back from Milbank to let him know I’d broken through my creative block and was ready to work. He praised every deity under the sun and told me he’d meet me there with coffee and bagels from H&H.

I stopped at my mailbox to grab the couple of days’ worth of mail I’d missed and tucked the pile under my arm. I pulled my suitcase off the small elevator and down the narrow hall to my apartment while peering into my bag to find my keys. They were at the bottom, crammed between my wallet and passport holder. I yanked them out, and when I looked up, saw Gideon sitting on the ground, fast asleep against the front door to my apartment.

After rolling my bag closer to him, I cleared my throat a few times until he opened his eyes. “What are you doing? How long have you been here?”

“I landed around six this morning. I’ve been sitting here since seven thirty”

He stretched his hand up for help off the ground. I grabbed it and used my weight to pull him up. He brushed off his pants and rubbed the back of his neck. He was eyeing my suitcase.

“I’ve been out of town the last couple of days.”

“I know, Jamie told me. I called him when I got here and discovered you weren’t.”

“Were you planning to wait here until I got back?”

“I didn’t really have much of a plan. I just wanted to see you—talk in person.”

I pushed open my front door. “You must need a drink or the bathroom. Something. Why don’t you come inside?”

Gideon swung his bag over his shoulder and then pulled my suitcase into my apartment. I turned on the lights and went into the kitchen and switched on the coffee maker. When I came out, he was standing by the window.

“Can I ask where you’ve been?” He lowered the blinds back down.

“I needed to get away for a few days. I went up to my summer camp. It’s mostly empty this time of year, so I was finally able to focus on Victoria’s dress.”

“That’s where you met Perry if I remember, right?” he said softly.

“It’s my little corner of the world. That’s all.”

Gideon shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know, I never thought I’d be this guy.”

I took a seat on the couch and folded my legs underneath me. “What guy?”

“The guy who’s so blind with jealousy he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

“I put you in an impossible situation, but it’s over with Perry. It’s been over for a long time.”

Gideon sat down beside me. He took my hands into his. “I want us to work. What do I need to do?”

I pulled my hands back. “Gideon, Badgley Hall is your whole world, and my life is here. I’ve been down this road before. It won’t work. I know you believe the obstacle is Perry, and maybe he’s a part of this equation, but our lives, yours and mine, are very different.”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t fall a little in love with Badgley Hall?”

“Of course I did,” I answered, knowing we weren’t just talking about Badgley Hall.

Gideon continued, “I shouldn’t have shut you out the way I did. An unfortunate trait of families like mine. We don’t know how to handle our emotions, so we pretend not to have any.”

He offered me a smile and put his arm out. I crawled into the small nook between his shoulder and chest.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Perry in the garden,” I whispered.

He kissed my forehead. “I know, just try not to let it happen again.”

“I promise.”

He took my hand into his own. “Are you game to give this a real go, Gigi?”

“I mean it, Gideon. As much as I might want to, I’m not sure the distance is going to work and I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

“Look, I just need to get Badgley Hall up and running. Once it’s fully operational, I won’t need to be there all the time. I could move to New York and travel back and forth between the two places.”

“Is that realistic? Badgley Hall isn’t just your business, it’s your home.”

“Don’t they say home is where the heart is?”

I exhaled. “I’m not sure it’s as simple as that.”

“Maybe it isn’t. But we won’t know until we try. What do you say? Do we give it a shot?”

I looked into his beautiful eyes. Why was I fighting this so hard? Here was someone wanting to commit to me, ready to do everything in his power to make us work. Gideon was kind, handsome, smart, worldly, and funny, with a title to boot. We obviously had chemistry. He was a good kisser and from a respected family. He had a castle and a moat and was practically Prince-Freakin’-Charming, for God’s sake. What else was I looking for? Sure, we didn’t have the same fiery dynamic Perry and I had. But where had that gotten the two of us? Nowhere. We’d burned that relationship to the ground.

“Okay,” I answered.

Gideon did a double take. “Okay?”

“Okay, let’s give it a shot.”

He grabbed my chin and pulled me in for a deep kiss. After he drew back, I rolled over to face him.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

Gideon sat up straighter. “I know you think I flew three thousand miles just to work things out with you, but truthfully, I was craving egg rolls and Moo Shoo chicken from Wo Hop.”

“So, the truth comes out. It was Chinese food that called you across the pond?”

He nodded and nestled back down into the couch.

“Well, it’s a little early for me, and besides, I have to go into my studio for a few hours.” I picked up my sketch pad from the coffee table. “I finally broke through my block. Maybe we can take a raincheck on the Chinese?”

“How ’bout this? I’ll stay here, watch some Netflix, and try to get some shut-eye since I didn’t sleep on the plane. We’ll meet up later for dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.” I eased back into his arms where I stayed until he fell into a deep sleep.

About an hour later, I left Gideon still asleep on the couch and headed to the studio to meet Jamie. When I walked in, he was standing with his back to me at a dress form, draping it with the material we’d selected for the bridal party. “How’s the viscount? I wasn’t sure you’d make it in. Honestly, I was hoping you wouldn’t—it’d mean there was still a chance for you guys.”

I set my bag and coat down on the chair beside him. “We’re good, actually.”

Jamie whipped around and pulled a pin out from between his lips. “You are?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “I think we’re gonna try to make it work.”

“Well, hallelujah.” Jamie lifted up the dress form and pretended to dance with it. “When you told me you were going to spend a few days at Chinooka clearing your head, I just assumed you’d come back with Perry Gillman on the brain.”

“I won’t lie, it was hard being there. Gordy put me up in his old cabin, of all places. I think he thought he was doing me some sort of favor letting me stay there.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Good old Gordy. How was Chinooka? Did you have the place to yourself?”

“Actually, there was this theater troupe staying on the grounds for a Renaissance fair a few towns away. Their commitment to that world was something else.”

“My parents liked all that stuff. They went to the Renaissance festival every year in Fairburn, Georgia.”

“You never really talk about your parents.”

“My dad was a glassblower, and my mom gave demonstrations on how to use medieval and Renaissance looms. We had a few looms—kept the biggest ones in the barn. She weaved some outrageous stuff. Clothes, tapestries. All really intricate and really beautiful. I used to incorporate her pieces into my own designs. I’m pretty sure those are the garments that got me into FIT.”

Jamie’s parents were extremely conservative and very religious. When he was a teenager, he came out to them as gay and they basically disowned him. He moved himself to New York City and worked his way through FIT. As far as I knew, he hadn’t communicated with his family in several years, and he rarely, if ever, talked about his childhood in Georgia. It was still a very open wound I knew hurt him to the core.

“Sounds like they were really talented people. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Jamie took the pin he’d been rolling between his thumb and forefinger and pushed it into the pincushion. “They were. So,” he said, changing the subject, “tell me more about these vagabonds staying at Chinooka?”

“I met this one couple, Alan and Linda. He was performing as Henry VIII in A Man for All Seasons, and she works the fair circuit playing Elizabeth I.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows. “Ironic.”

“I know, tell me about it.”

“Did they help Stella get her groove back?”

I pulled out my sketch pad and flipped to the page with Victoria’s wedding gown. “This is what I came up with—a dress loosely inspired by Elizabeth I and the gown we created for Fiddler on the Roof.”

Jamie took the pad out of my hands and laid it on his drafting table. He turned on the small attached lamp and leaned in to look it over.

“This is magnificent. Has Victoria seen it yet?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I wanted you to see it first.”

“The back is just…it’s…it’s a work of art.” He looked up at me. “How long are you thinking the train should be?”

“About nine feet.”

He pointed to the top section of the dress. “What’s that detail on the bodice?”

“Alan told me about the Royal School of Needlework, based at Hampton Court Palace. Apparently, they’re known for creating perfect replicas of antique textiles. I want to incorporate the embroidery from Elizabeth I’s coronation dress but in a more modern way. Hold on, I have a sketch of it somewhere in here from when I was at the Victoria and Albert Museum.”

“Very cool. What are you thinking for the fabrics?”

“I know we talked about looking at some options from Italy and Spain, but I think I want to use all UK-sourced fabrics. I’m going to reach out to the Cluny Lace Co. in Derbyshire for samples. Their Leaver Lace is unparalleled.”

“And the stones on the cuffs and collar?”

“I’m not sure yet. How strict do you think the rules are about disassembling the Crown Jewels?” I teased. “Maybe we can reach out to the Swarovski people?

Jamie put the sketch back down on the table. “Looks like we have quite a bit of work to do these next months.”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

“Good, I’ll need a distraction while I’m waiting.”

My brow furrowed. “Waiting for what?”

“To become a dad. Our surrogate’s three months pregnant. We’re having twins in November.”

“Jamie, why didn’t you say anything?” I put my hand over my mouth.

“It was a little touch and go. The surrogate had some bleeding, and we were waiting for all the tests to come back.”

I threw my arms around him. “That’s the best news I’ve ever heard.”

“Thom’s over the moon. He’s already picked out names and private schools.”

“Of course he has. What about you? How are you feeling about it all?”

“I’m thrilled! But twins? I was worried about screwing just one kid up.”

I cocked my head to the side. “You won’t screw anyone up. Look how well you raised me.”

“Gigi, do you really think I can do this? Be someone’s father?”

“Unquestionably.”

Jamie laid his hand over his heart. “I hope you’re right.”

I shook my head. “I am right.”

“Right about what?” Jordana asked as she walked into the studio.

“Looks like I’m gonna be a dad,” Jamie said.

“Oh my God,” Jordana said as she rushed over to hug him. “When? How?”

“November. We used a surrogate. We’re having twins.”

Jordana stepped back. “Did Thom get the Dalton applications done yet?”

“They’re on his desk,” Jamie answered.

Jordana laughed. “This is gonna be quite the year for G. Malone. Speaking of which, Gigi, how’s the lookbook coming? Anna’s office called again for it. Apparently, she’d like to have it ahead of the meeting so she can be prepared with notes.”

“Anna Wintour’s evaluating the book? Does Victoria know?” Jamie asked.

Jordana shrugged her shoulders. “Victoria knows. She’s fine with it.”

“Do we get a say in this?” I looked over at Jamie. “What do you think?”

“It’s Anna Wintour, Gi. If she loves it, great. If she doesn’t, well then, fuck her.”

“Excellent. Thank you for your two cents.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m really not worried about it. The wedding gown is beyond.”

“You finished the sketch of the gown?” Jordana screeched.

I picked up the pad and handed it to her.

Jordana looked it over and shook her head. “Holy crap, Gigi, this is the most exquisite dress I’ve ever seen. What about those gems around the collar, what are you thinking you’ll use for those?”

“I thought we could reach out to Swarovski. Maybe even Cartier or Tiffany?”

“Oh, we can do better than that. Who owns the crown jewels? The royal family or the government? I’ll send Gemma an email.”

Jamie and I spent the next few days in the studio, finalizing the wedding looks and coordinating with our production team to ensure we could get the fabrics and materials we needed in time. We barely left the space long enough to shower and grab a quick bite before coming right back to the office. Gideon told me he was happy to wander around the city and hit up some museums and shows while I was working. He even dropped takeout from Wo-Hop off at the studio for us one night when we were too wrapped up to leave for dinner.

I promised Gideon I’d make it up to him over the weekend with a getaway trip to my parents’ house in East Hampton. It was the perfect spot for two people looking to escape the hustle and bustle of the city for a few days while still having access to great shopping, restaurants, and beaches. May was still considered off-season in the Hamptons so I hoped we wouldn’t have to deal with the same crowds and traffic as in the height of the summer.

We caught the last Jitney out of the city Friday night. A little over two hours later, it dropped us in front of The Palm Restaurant on Main Street where we grabbed a taxi to the house.

My parents’ summer home was no Badgley Hall, but it was absolutely beautiful in its own right. Situated on a remote corner of Georgica Pond, it was a charming cottage-style home my mother had spent the better part of the last two decades renovating and decorating. A few years ago, it had been photographed for an article in Better Homes and Gardens featuring Hampton’s estates. Although our home was one of the smaller houses spotlighted, my mother’s taste and ability to mix gorgeous vintage pieces with super modern ones made the house quite the showpiece.

I knew Gideon would love the quiet and serenity of the grounds and the pond. It reminded me quite a bit of some of the spots Jamie and I had driven through in South Gloucestershire on our way to Badgley Hall.

I was right. Gideon immediately responded to the property’s rustic beauty, rushing down to get a closer look at Georgica Pond.

“So, this is your namesake? I can certainly understand why.”

I took a few steps toward the shore. “My parents named me Georgica before they bought this house. The name was supposed to provide the inspiration to actually make the dream of living here happen. At first, they couldn’t afford more than just the land. Then, each year, they added to the property and eventually got their dream of a home on Georgica Pond.” I turned back to Gideon. “It’s funny, I used to hate coming out here. Summer in the Hamptons was never my thing. I was more of a Camp Chinooka girl. But now, I’m proud of what they built. None of this was handed to them.”

Gideon’s posture stiffened. “Like Badgley Hall, you mean.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking of Badgley Hall.”

Gideon dug his hands into his pockets and looked down to the ground. “A lot of people feel the way you do about inherited wealth and estates.”

I tilted Gideon’s chin up. “I’m so sorry. Open mouth. Insert foot.”

He squinted and pointed to the dock. “Is that a rowboat?”

“My mother bought it as a gift for my father a few years ago.”

“What do you say we take it for a spin?”

Right there—the difference between Gideon and Perry. A thoughtless comment like the one I’d just made would’ve resulted in a full-blown argument with Perry, who often relished in the push and pull of our dynamic. Gideon was more easygoing. Our connection was less kinetic, but in other ways, sounder. After Joshua, I’d convinced myself the only relationship worth having was a complicated one. Now, looking over at Gideon’s warm, welcoming face, I wasn’t sure why I’d ever bought into that notion.

After exploring some of Georgica Pond, we went back to the house to figure out our evening. I rattled off a list of nearby restaurants I thought would be Gideon’s speed, but he surprised me and asked if he could make us dinner instead. I took him to my favorite market, known for their amazing seafood and produce. As soon as we walked in, he grabbed a cart and made a beeline to the cheese counter while I headed over to the wine section.

Gideon hadn’t let me in on his menu, so I picked up a bottle of red and a bottle of white and put them into my basket. I wandered up and down the aisles, tossing in a few items for us for the weekend, and then made my way over to the checkout line to wait for him. I thumbed through a few magazines and then finally saw him emerging from the bakery section, his cart loaded with items.

My eyes widened. “What’s all this?”

“I was a bit overwhelmed. The selection here is so much better than in the UK markets. This nice woman helped me streamline my menu.” He pointed over to a woman a bit older than my mother who was checking out in a different line.

“Whoa, that’s Ina Garten,” I whispered.

“Who?”

“The Barefoot Contessa. She has a show on the Food Network. She used to have a famous market in West Hampton.”

“What do you mean barefoot?” he said with his eyes fixed on her sandals.

“It was the name of her store, I think? Anyway, she helped you with the menu?”

He pulled a bunch of scraps of paper with notes all over them out from his pocket. “She did better than that. She wrote out a few recipes. We better get home and get to it unless you want dinner to be breakfast.”

Gideon barricaded himself in the kitchen, absolutely refusing to let me in to help. Every fifteen minutes or so I shouted to him to see if I could do anything to help, and he’d shout back that he was fine. The banging and clanging of pots and pans had me thinking otherwise, but I let him do his thing. I wandered out to the pool area, sat down on a lounge chair, and pulled out my phone, which had been buzzing on and off for the better part of the last hour.

On the screen were half a dozen Twitter and text notifications. I opened the first one and quickly read the headline, “Elizabeth Wins a Record 9 Olivier Awards.” I opened the article and scrolled down to the list of categories. Perry’d won Best Actor in a Musical and his co-star, Best Actress. The actor and actress playing Queen Mary Tudor and Sir Francis Walsingham won for Best Actor and Actress in a Supporting Role in a Musical. It also won for Best Set Design, Best Director, Best Theatre Choreographer, Best Costume Design, and of course, Best New Musical.

It was everything Perry had ever wished for and dreamed of when he started writing the show. My instinct was to call and congratulate him. Sure, we’d left things on less than great terms, but this feat transcended all that. I wanted him to know how incredibly proud and in awe I was of this monumental accomplishment. I’d just started dialing Perry’s number when Alicia beeped through. I answered.

“Hey, how are you?” she asked.

“I’m good. I’m in the Hamptons with Viscount Gideon,” I replied.

“I am going to require a full debrief when you’re back in the city.”

“Of course. How are you?”

“I’m fine. I was worried about you after all the articles about the Olivier Awards, but it sounds like you’re totally handling things.”

“Yeah, I just saw the news. Honestly, I’m thrilled for him. How could I not be? It’s everything he’s worked for all these years.”

“Right, yeah. I knew you’d be okay with all that. I meant more the Annabelle stuff?”

My stomach dropped. “What Annabelle stuff?”

“Perry took her to the award show as his date. Their relationship is all over the news. If you thought the media was excited about Victoria and Prince Alexander, this is a whole ’nother level. Perry’s so hot right now, and because of how guarded she is, Annabelle’s love life has always fascinated the press.”

I leaned all the way back into the lounge chair and sighed heavily into the phone.

“Gigi, don’t let this ruin your weekend with Gideon,” Alicia chided. “I know you. Don’t start obsessively reading articles about last night. They’re together. You’ve known for weeks. The fact the world now knows about it too doesn’t change a thing.”

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” she said resolutely. “Now go back to your duke or whatever he is, and try to forget about all this.”

I hung up the phone and immediately typed Annabelle Ellicott and Perry Gillman into Google. I clicked on the first article in the Daily Mail and started reading.

I stopped when I heard Gideon calling to let me know dinner was ready. I tucked the phone into the pocket of my jean jacket and went through the double French doors into the kitchen. Gideon was finishing plating the last of the dishes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Oh, I’m fine, just hungry,” I answered.

“Well, I can remedy that,” he said. “Grab this last plate, and let’s head into the dining room.”

“Want to eat outside, instead? It’s warmed up a bit, and the sunset off the pond is something to see.”

“Sure, I’m game. Let me grab the rest of the food and wine.”

Gideon went to the dining room to collect the platters, while I set the outside table. A few minutes later he joined me, and we sat down to eat.

“That Ina Garten sure knows what she’s doing,” he said, serving me some incredible-looking salmon cakes.

I picked up a heaping forkful. “It seems you both do.”

Gideon picked up his glass of wine. “A toast to us and a wonderful weekend away.”

I put down my fork and lifted my glass to meet his. “To us,” I said, clinking our glasses together.

Gideon pointed to my jacket. “Your pocket’s vibrating.”

I put my hand over it. “It must be Jordana.”

Without even looking, I knew it was Jordana, calling to ask if I’d seen the news about Perry and Annabelle. I was positive she was already having a meltdown over all the possible PR implications if the press found out about my past relationship.

“Do you want to get it?”

I shook my head and turned my attention back to Gideon and Ina Garten’s salmon cakes.