This meeting with Collins and de Bourgh was going substantially worse than all the rest combined. Instead of meeting at their offices, as they had originally agreed on, she’d inisisted thirty minutes before their scheduled time that it must be at her home—which was forty-five minutes away—oh, and by the way, bring all the flowers. Eliot stood near the champagne colored roses and carnations as the woman ranted, claiming they were too pale for her taste. Eliot had to fight his desire to yell, “Shut the fuck up and pay us already.”

They were roughly one and a half weeks out from the engagement party, and de Bourgh still couldn’t make up her mind about anything. Anything except the fact that they, Eliot and Charlie, were at fault. And Eliot was here, his final meeting with her, to make sure Charlie actually discussed the issue of payment with her.

Currently, she was saying, “You’ve gone through all of the funds? How is that even possible? Are you incapable of cash management?” Her face, in contrast to her voice, did not change. How much plastic surgery and Botox did it take to turn a woman into a frozen puppet like that?

Collins gave a shrill chuckle. Eliot had learned in the last few days that Collins thoroughly enjoyed witnessing de Bourgh verbally eviscerate people. They made a lovely couple.

Eliot couldn’t resist wondering what it was like growing up under that tongue. It might explain a few things about Darcy...

“I signed a contract. We agreed on who we would be using and all of the details…”

Charlie smoothly raced through a list of reasons why costs had gone well beyond the initial deposit of ten grand. Ms. de Bourgh wasn’t having any of it. As far she was concerned, changing her mind twenty-six times on the engagement party alone was no reason for them to have run through the initial funds.

Did she not realize that booking a venue required a deposit? A deposit you didn’t get back if you cancelled. A deposit that isn’t honored when you have to go back and book it again. Eliot was fairly certain that no matter how on point Charlie’s shmooze game was, Ms. de Bourgh was about to fire them, and Eliot felt nothing but a weary sense of relief.

The doorbell echoed faintly. Eliot doubted anyone else in the room heard it.

"I don't see why I should pay anything more until you have fulfilled your end of the bargain."

Charlie was definitely losing this battle. If Eliot had expected anything less, he would have cried, seeing the end rolling toward them. No matter how many fliers they put up, no matter how many cold calls, nothing. All the years. All the sweat and sacrifices. All gone because Darcy’s mom was a colossal bitch, and Charlie had valued prestige over consistency.

Eliot turned to the flowers, drawing in a deep breath of air and strength. If Charlie was going to send their partnership sailing down the financial gutter, then Eliot was going to tell de Bourgh and her ass-wipe personal assistant exactly what he thought of them.

The sound of faint footsteps was lost as he prepared his speech, figuring out precisely when to throw his spreadsheet in her frozen Botox face.

Ms. de Bourgh cut off mid-rant, the only warning before she said, “Darcy, dear! How long it’s been. Come here and give your mother a kiss.”

Turning slowly, dread pooling in his too-plump gut, Eliot gave Darcy a once over. This was the father of his child. Of course the universe thrust them together today, of all days.

Darcy did as he was bid, and his eyes zeroed in on Eliot as he straightened. “Beautiful flowers, Mother. Are these the ones you've chosen for your engagement party? Or the wedding?"

Ms. de Bourgh waved her hand negligently. “Oh these, pish. These are a disaster, dear.” She cast a hate filled look at Charlie. “It appears these so-called wedding planners aren’t worth the name.”

Darcy’s eyes flickered to Eliot, who raised his chin defiantly. It had taken every inch of restraint for Eliot not to tell de Bourgh exactly what the true problem was.

Darcy lifted a carnation and held it to his nose. “These flowers? They look fine to me."

Ms. de Bourgh gave a little teehee, echoed eerily by Collins. "Oh, Darcy, you don't understand anything about flowers and weddings and engagement parties."

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. "And that's for a reason, Mother." He didn’t look at his mother, yet a soft pink stained her cheeks anyway.

Collins rose from his seat and grabbed ahold of Darcy’s hand to pump it up and down. “Oh my dear boy, your sweet mother has been through some absolutely trying times. We have had such difficulties with this wedding planning. I feel absolutely horrible.” He leaned closer to Darcy, who physically leaned away. “I recommended them."

Eliot gritted his teeth. Collins was a massive part of the problem. The stupid man agreed with every little thing she said. Too much praise for nothing had warped her expectations of reality.

Darcy slid his hand from Collins’s grasp, but the man simply switched his grip to Darcy’s other elbow. Each time he got a hand free, Collins inched in closer. Darcy stepped back, and Collins followed.

"Yes, it has been such a trial,” Ms. de Bourgh groused, heedless of her son’s discomfort.

Darcy finally freed both hands and hid them behind his back, though Collins still stood awkwardly close. Darcy seemed to be leaning away from the man’s breath. “Eliot and Charlie did the Pritchard wedding. You were impressed, Mother.” Ms. de Bourgh’s face blanked in surprise. “It was a grand affair. Remember the trees draped in white? The lilies? There were buckets of lilies.”

Eliot remembered. He also remembered the disdain with which Darcy had treated their decorations. And choice of champagne.

Darcy took a shuffling step away from Collins. “Why are you having so many difficulties?"

Was Darcy… supporting them? No… it couldn’t be. But his tone was even—like a lawyer, Eliot tried to convince himself. Gathering information for the kill.

As Collins and Ms. de Bourgh began talking over each other, running through a litany of wedding planning issues, Darcy’s eyes roamed until they rested on Charlie, who for once seemed completely lost on how to navigate this social situation.

Unexpectedly, since Charlie had been unwilling to say anything bad or truly acknowledge all the difficulties thus far, he told Darcy, "It has been a trial."

Eliot’s jaw dropped. The right side of Darcy's mouth tipped upwards slightly. For an instant.

Collins and Ms. de Bourgh heard him and attempted to latch onto it as another example of how difficult Charlie and Eliot were to work with. “So much arrogance,” Collins said, narrowing his eyes at Charlie, who he had treated as his right hand man until this meeting.

It was the final straw for Eliot. He marched over to Darcy and handed him a sheet of paper. “There have been twenty-six separate changes for the engagement party alone, and the unforeseen changes have caused us to run through your mother’s entire deposit and she refuses to pay for costs rendered up to this point. At this point it's simply too expensive to continue with your mother as a client."

Something akin to panic crossed Ms. de Bourgh’s face. “You’re quitting on me? Now? It’s less than two weeks until the engagement party?"

Eliot couldn’t answer. Had she not been gearing up to fire them herself? What did she think was going to happen if they couldn’t pay for everything she wanted?

Darcy looked over the invoice. “It would appear so. And with good reason, I might add."

"With reason?" Ms. de Bourgh’s scream of outrage echoed painfully in the room. "What possible reason could he have for canceling on me less than two weeks before an event? There is nothing to justify such behavior. Unprofessional—“

Collins added his own variation of the same diatribe, complimenting Ms. de Bourgh’s good taste throughout it. Charlie simply closed his eyes.

Darcy took hold of his mother’s hand and spoke when she paused momentarily to take a breath. "Mother, please, you need to listen to me."

That didn’t go over well. Ms. de Bourgh let out a wailing scream that caused everyone but her son to flinch away from her. It went on and on and on, somehow growing in volume. Eliot covered his ears, suddenly grateful that no matter how eccentric his mother was, she wasn’t prone to screaming fits.

Darcy, ignoring the way his mother was turning purple, walked over and leaned to shout in Eliot’s ear. “Perhaps it would be best if you waited in the salon.”

Eliot nodded, grabbed Charlie’s hand and started walking. Darcy pointed toward a room, and Eliot and Charlie escaped.

The screaming trailed off in a reedy wail, and then silence. Eliot half wondered if Darcy had offed the two of them and was busy hiding the bodies.

Roughly a half hour later, during which Eliot plucked at the piano keys, Darcy entered the salon. Charlie turned from the window he’d been staring out of, uncharacteristically silent and not complaining about Eliot’s poor piano playing.

“Mother is departing for our California house along with Collins.” Darcy’s lip quirked. Disgust perhaps? Or just disdain? “She wishes for you to continue preparations for the engagement party on November twenty-eighth. Champagne colored roses and carnations are her favorites.”

Charlie’s sigh of relief could have knocked a large child over.

Eliot remained practical. “There is still the issue of…”

He coughed. Bringing up money with the man he’d slept with was more challenging than he anticipated. It was, oddly enough, so much easier when he was dealing with Ms. de Bourgh, no matter how crazy she was.

Recognition flashed across Darcy’s face. Then the polite mask, one which Eliot felt an immediate envy of, fell into place. “The financial matters, yes.” Darcy took in a deep breath. His chest expanded. Eliot’s traitorous brain flashed with images of that chest covered in a wet, white shirt, then completely bare, sweaty under Eliot’s palms. “Much as I dislike being involved in my mother’s af—” cough. “—life, I think it would be best if her bills were sent to me. I will ensure they are paid without delay.”

Eliot flicked a look at Darcy, unable to meet the man’s eyes, uncertain he could make his mouth work enough to answer. Thankfully, Charlie stepped in and gracefully accepted. Eliot nodded his agreement and listened as Darcy told them that Ms. de Bourgh would return to town the day before the engagement party. “You’ll have to complete everything based on what she’s already requested.”

Charlie coughed. Darcy’s lips twisted. “I suggest that her initial instructions are probably the most accurate.”

Charlie finally smiled. “I tend to agree. Eliot?”

“Right. Sounds good. Thank you for your assistance in this matter.” Eliot hated that his voice sounded rather strangled but, seriously, how was a man supposed to talk to a one-night stand who was the father of his secret baby?

Oh man. Darcy was his baby daddy. He had made some seriously ill advised choices in his life to lead him here.