S’more to Lose by Beth Merlin (2)

Chapter Two

Later that night, I curled up in the hotel bed with a glass of pinot noir and the wedding dossier. I flipped through the first few pages of events—mostly teas and luncheons for the out-of-town guests and close family—and jotted down some ideas for daytime dresses and suits. Then, I turned to the pages dedicated to the five-hundred-guest reception at Buckingham Palace and read through the lengthy descriptions of each wedding event. Cocktail hour would be held in the candlelit palace courtyard, where bagpipers would welcome guests. Following cocktail hour, the guests would be escorted into the palace ballroom for dinner and toasts. After that, they’d be ushered through to the throne room, which would be transformed into a nightclub complete with a stage, dance floor, and cocktail bar.

I picked up my notebook and made some notes about the three outfit changes just for the reception alone. No question Jamie would be chomping at the bit to get his hands on designing the dress for the club. I flipped the page and ran my finger down the list of artists set to perform. Madonna, Elton John, and Adele were among the confirmed acts. I skimmed down farther and stopped at his name.

There he was. Perry Gillman listed next to the cast of his hit West End show, Elizabeth. Of course he’d be asked to perform a song from Elizabeth. It was the hottest show in the world right now.

Perry’s idea to tell the story of Queen Elizabeth I using not just period music but also rap, hip-hop, and R&B ballads had turned the theater world on its head. So had his push for diverse casting. There were rumors Beyoncé was taking over the lead role of Elizabeth I when the show transferred to Broadway in a few months. When he first told me his idea to marry all of these styles of music in one show, I’d thought he was crazy. But then I remembered his brilliant Color War songs where he mixed different genres to create something new and completely original. He was a musical genius, and it didn’t take long for the theater world to notice. Now, getting a ticket to Elizabeth was nearly impossible, and scalpers were charging thousands of dollars to people desperate enough to see the show. It was nominated for almost every Olivier Award it was eligible for, and in just the last few weeks, Perry’d graced the cover of most major magazines and newspapers.

I skimmed through a few more pages of the dossier to the guest lists and saw Perry was also invited to several of the wedding events. Either his celebrity was just that stratospheric, or he was a close personal friend of Victoria or Prince Alexander. Maybe both of them? My head was swimming.

I laid back down on the pillow and stared up at the popcorn ceiling before looking over at the nightstand clock. It was almost two a.m. I wasn’t sure if it was jet lag or knowing Perry was only a few blocks away, but I was wide awake. I turned on the TV and flipped through some channels before landing on the Top Designer finale episode, where I lost to Kharen Chen. I picked up my phone. It was only eleven in the States. I knew Alicia’d still be awake.

“You’ll never guess what I’m watching,” I said as soon as Alicia picked up the phone.

“Doctor Who?”

“The final episode of my season of Top Designer.”

“Why are you torturing yourself like that? Did you lose to Kharen yet?”

“I’m about to. Charlotte Cross is just going to tell me what a promising designing career she’s sure I’ll have and give me the double kiss goodbye.”

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are in consideration to design the wedding gown for the future Queen of England.”

“Shhhhh,” I hissed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jamie told me our phones could be bugged.”

“He’s crazy, and you’re even crazier for believing him.”

I stood up and poured myself another glass of wine. “Is he? Victoria’s camp is making us sign a confidentiality and nondisclosure agreement around the wedding dress details.”

Alicia laughed. “Did you just breach it by telling me that it exists?”

“We didn’t sign yet. It’s with our attorney for review.”

“Ahhh, so you’re having your father look it over?” she said.

“He’s the best. Not to mention free. We’re still building a business.”

“I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. How’s London? Perry’s face must be plastered everywhere. He was on the cover of the Arts and Leisure section of the New York Times this weekend. I left a large coffee ring around it just for you.”

“Billboards and ads for the show are all over London as if it needs any more hype. I stepped off the sidewalk and almost got taken out by a red double-decker bus with an Elizabeth banner across the side of it.”

“Are you going see it while you’re there?”

“Like I could even get a ticket if I wanted one.”

“All you’d have to do is call him.”

I opened the window curtain and looked out onto the quiet street. “He doesn’t want to hear from me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know.” I closed the curtain and sat back down on the bed. “I should let you go. I shouldn’t have called this late.”

“I was up. Sloane will be wanting a midnight snack soon.”

“I still can’t believe you have a daughter and she’s almost four months old already.”

“Is it normal I can’t stop staring at her? I just sit in her room and stare at her.”

“Very normal. Especially when a baby’s that beautiful. She’s your twin.”

“Really? When I look at her, I see Asher.”

“She’s you. The green eyes and wisps of blonde hair. How can you not see it?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t. When are you back?”

“A couple of days. I wanted to do a little sightseeing before coming home.”

“Let’s do dinner or a mani when you’re back. Baby’s crying, I should go. I’ll see you next week. Night.”

“Night, Alicia.”

I hit the off button with my thumb, placed the phone on the nightstand, and settled back into bed. The Top Designer finale was over, but worse, the reunion show was playing. Naomi Campbell had just introduced a montage of our first challenge, episode “Code Wed,” where the designers were asked to create wedding gowns using nothing but toilet paper. Poor Jamie—almost years later and it was still tough to watch him struggle through this challenge. I fell asleep right before Naomi started questioning him about what it felt like to get booted off first and woke up to him knocking on my hotel door.

“One sec,” I mumbled.

“It’s eleven, Gigi. You promised me we’d be at Harrods by noon,” Jamie shouted through the door.

I unlocked the deadbolt and let him in. “Sorry. I had trouble falling asleep last night.”

I couldn’t help but look him up and down. He looked impeccable in an ombré mohair Gucci sweater, Dsquared2 jeans, and a different pair of studded Louboutin loafers than he’d worn the day before.

I shook my head. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

I motioned toward him. “Look like that?”

He kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “It’s called a shower.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Nice, Malone. You sure you don’t want to do some real sightseeing, like the Tower of London or Hampton Court Palace, today? Get some more inspiration for the royal wedding?”

“I agreed to go on that downtown abbey tour with you tomorrow, didn’t I?”

“It’s Downton Abbey, not downtown abbey.”

“Aren’t we saying the exact same thing?”

I shook my head. “No, we’re not, but fine, we can do whatever you want today.”

“Harrods, then Harvey Nics. If there’s time, the rest of Bond Street.”

“Let me just take a quick shower. I can be ready in five. If Camp Chinooka taught me anything, it’s the art of the quick shower,” I said with a smile.

When I got out, I threw on jeans, a white button-down, and my newly acquired Burberry trench. The coat had been a bit of a splurge but now seemed like a good investment piece if we were going to be spending so much time in London. I grabbed my purse from the floor and phone from my nightstand. I quickly scrolled through my emails.

“My father responded about the contract,” I yelled to Jamie from the changing room.

“And?” he called back.

I walked back into the main room. “He says it’s all pretty standard, and we should sign if we want the job.”

“So, let’s make this official.” He yanked the contract out of the large manila envelope and handed it to me.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You realize what a huge commitment it is—it’s going to take time away from our other collections and clients.”

“Gigi, this is the finish line. This is the type of opportunity designers spend their whole careers dreaming of. This will change everything for us.”

I inhaled deeply and looked him square in the eye. “I know.”

He took the contract from my hand and scribbled out his signature. “Your turn,” he said, handing it back to me.

I closed my eyes, and before I could change my mind, signed on the dotted line.

We went down to the front desk to ask for a courier service that could return the agreement to Gemma Landry’s PR firm. The concierge picked up the phone to call the messenger and handed Jamie another envelope that had been delivered to our attention that morning.

I stood up on my tiptoes and peered over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“No idea,” he said, slitting it open with the letter opener from the desk. He pulled out the beautiful cream and gold-leafed stationary.

Jamie held up two tickets. “Box seats.”

“No.” I ripped them from his fingers and stuffed them into my bag.

“You know how hard these are to get. Gigi. The Prince of England personally invited us. We have to go.”

“It was a gesture. We don’t have to accept it.”

Jamie held the letter up to my face. “Alexander said he looks forward to meeting us both.”

“I don’t think he means tonight. He probably just means at some point in the next few months.”

“Give me your phone,” Jamie said, motioning for me to take it out of my bag.

“What for?”

Jamie put one hand on his hip and reached out his other one. “Just give it to me, Gigi.”

I reluctantly pulled it out and handed it to him. He scrolled to Gemma’s name in my contacts and stepped a few feet away. Although I couldn’t hear her end of the conversation, when Jamie said, “I look forward to seeing them later this evening,” I assumed Gemma had confirmed Victoria and Alexander would be in attendance.

Jamie walked back over to where I was standing and slipped the phone back into my bag.

“They’ll be there, although they aren’t sitting in the same box as us,” he said. “Victoria doesn’t want to bring any more attention to the fact we’re in consideration for the gown.”

“We better get going, then. I guess I’m gonna need an outfit for tonight.” I turned to Jamie. “So tell me. What does a girl wear to meet up with the former fiancé she may still be in love with and the future King and Queen of England?”

He put his arm around me. “I’m not sure, but we’ll find it on Bond Street. I promise.”