Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘Max, you’re not obliged to come to the wedding, in fact, I’d rather you didn’t. You’re just full of bloody excuses all the time so fuck you.’ Georgina Remy slammed the bedroom door hard.
‘Gina. Gina,’ Max roared through the closed door. ‘I just feel it’s important to meet these guys on Friday while they’re in the country.’
Gina turned on her heels and flung back the door. Max was before her, in her face. His metallic eyes pleading. She squinted hard at them.
‘I don’t believe you, Max. Why does your charity always have to come first? These people will survive. You’re hardly providing life-saving operations. Haven’t you heard charity begins at home?’ She slammed the door again. ‘This is the same feeble excuse you keep harking back to. Our relationship should come before anything: my business; your charity. You don’t get it, do you?’
‘I do and it won’t happen again, not after this and, as I said, we’ll sit down and plan,’ he shouted through the door.
‘Just…I don’t want to hear it.’ She stepped back. ‘This so-called relationship is going nowhere, Max. Go home.’ She rushed for her suitcase, pulling it out from under her bed and mindlessly throwing her neatly ironed clothes in. She could hear him continuing the fight from the hall.
‘Why are you overreacting? I’ll fly over Saturday morning. I’ll be there for the wedding, I promise. Gina…Gina. I’ve committed to it. I won’t let it happen again. You know I’m looking forward to it.’
A fierce silence sliced through the air. As she forced shoes and toiletries and make-up around her clothes Gina fought hard not to let the bitterness erupt. Clasping her head in her hands, she collapsed on the bed, throwing her head into the pillow. With some distance she could hopefully calm herself. He would probably leave now anyway, he usually did. This was now a regular occurrence. A routine. It was a mockery of a relationship. This wasn’t the life she’d planned, not the Max she’d once known. He’d always been attentive, sharing and keen to have a family and family life. He’d always wanted to be with her and do things with her. She closed her eyes before she heard him again.
‘I’ll be there Saturday morning, darling. I love you,’ he said speaking in muffled tones behind her door. A few seconds later, she heard a heavy sigh filter through the wood before he yelled, ‘See you Saturday.’
After a few seconds, as anticipated, she heard his footsteps echo down the hall. Then the latch clicked telling her he’d left her flat.
‘Good riddance’ she wanted to shout. But how could she ever fall out of love with Max? It would break her heart, and more importantly, his girls’. Was she so wrong in wanting a family when it was something they’d planned?
‘Bastard!’ she whispered.
***
After a frustrating morning with a two-hour delay before her flight, Gina dashed along the lakeside path wheeling her case to the hotel, stopping briefly to clip up her long dark hair away from her increasingly hot, sticky neck. It was just gone three o’clock. She’d text her brother to keep him informed but he wasn’t, it seemed, very forgiving. He’d texted back telling her to hurry.
Despite the stress of Max and her lateness, she at least had taken some pleasure in her journey. As the train had edged round Lake Léman, the view had calmed her. It was her favourite scene in the world and she had chosen a sun-drenched seat on the right-hand side of the carriage from which to savour every aspect of the imposing mountains encircling the vast glistening water. It always made her feel comforted and welcome.
As she reached the hotel entrance, she hauled her suitcase up the small set of stairs and wheeled it across the thick cream carpet, then with a harsh whack, parked it against a marble Corinthian column, looking around for a familiar face. Her mother appeared at once, ushering with her hand. Gina immediately ran to her, past the reception and entered a vast columned vestibule.
‘Gina, thank goodness, we were getting worried. Come,’ she urged, reaching for her daughter and planting kisses on both cheeks.
‘Hello, Mum.’ Gina tossed her oversized handbag over her right shoulder and tightly hugged the petite, blonde woman. ‘I couldn’t get here any quicker. Is James OK or is he in a panic?’
‘Oh, you know your brother has to say his piece, like you. Says you should have organised an earlier flight. Let’s not make an issue of it now, Gina. He’ll be fine. I’m sure you’d be panicking too if it were your wedding.’
‘It’s just a rehearsal for God’s sake.’
‘Like I said, imagine how you would feel,’ her mother said, lowering her voice.
Heads turned as the two of them entered the opulent ballroom. Gina stared breathless at its grandeur, which was at one with the belle-époque exterior.
‘OK. Now we can begin,’ she heard her brother tell the wedding co-ordinator. The small congregation then turned from their patient disquiet to readiness.
After a tense half hour Gina was better versed in what she would be undertaking the following day. She breathed out a sigh. Feeling totally dishevelled compared to the other well-groomed and manicured females present, she followed them out to the richly furnished salon and on to a bright sunny terrace furnished with wrought-iron dining furniture, a festooned canopy and, she swiftly noted, a bar. Just what she needed!
She took her father’s arm as she caught up with him. He turned and greeted her with his familiar warmth, followed by his sister, Aunt Bernie, who fussed with more kisses. As the crowd dispersed into small groups, she and her parents claimed a table overlooking the lake with Aunt Bernie. It was laden with Aunt Bernie’s speciality table decorations: clusters of red carnations. She had thought they needed a trial run and James had obviously given in to her persistence. Although Gina wasn’t sure his soon-to-be bride, Gabriella, would appreciate them.
Once the waiter had taken her drinks order, Gina excused herself and made a quick visit to the ladies room. After touching up her make-up and brushing her hair, she checked the mirror satisfied she had now come some way to looking presentable. Scooping her bag back up, she breezed back to the terrace, swiping her smartphone to take it off silent as she hurried back to the reception. She glanced up, aware of a figure approaching. Just noting legs in front of her, she veered left. He staggered one way, she stepped aside, both moving the same way and whoosh, crashing into each other.
‘Sorry,’ she said, flicking her eyes up. They locked hard with the stranger’s as rose thorns seemed to strike through her veins.
‘Pardon, Madame,’ he slurred, touching her arm as his chocolate-brown eyes ensnared her with their intensity.
Wow, her breath escaped, whipped away like never before. She steadied herself, catching his arm. As she felt his skin beneath her fingertips – hot and solid with muscle – she lost her grip on her phone, letting it fall to the thick carpet.
He stared like he was afraid to look away. She did the same, scared to lose the moment.
‘I’ll get that,’ he said finally as he bent down and collected the phone from the lush pile and waved it in his hand. ‘I’ll put my number in here. You might need it.’
‘Err,’ she croaked, clearing her throat and reaching for her phone. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘No?’ He raised his eyebrows and threw her a questioning look. ‘You find me drop-dead gorgeous and yet you decline any possibility of contacting me?’
Gina