Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (35 page)

Ted and Tiziana took another step forward. “Listen, Des, perhaps now isn’t the time,” he suggested, rather forcefully.
Why wouldn’t he?
It was
his
boat and
his
party, plus
his
fiancée was falling apart. I took a better look at her and registered that she was taking all this rather hard. My heart went out to her. This certainly wasn’t how she anticipated the weekend going.

“Ted, if it’s all the same to you, I would rather get this over with now. There will never be a good time, and there may never be another time. Perhaps you and Tiziana should leave.” I nodded toward her. My voice was slightly wobbly, but my resolve complete. I had faced harder things, surely.

Tiziana let out a deep sigh, shook her head no, and began to pace while wringing her hands. Ted watched her with confusion on his face.

“Bella,” Tiziana started to say. Her voice faltered when she heard others approaching. Ted quickly crossed the room and quietly spoke to those outside. After shutting the door behind him, he returned to Tiziana’s side. We were now isolated and uninterruptable.

Kneeling on the floor before my chair, she looked up at me with her big doe eyes, her makeup carefully overdone. Tears slid down her cheeks. My brain was searching for answers.

She looked over her shoulder at Des and took a deep breath. “Des, it wasn’t Charlotte. It was me. It was a huge, horrible misunderstanding.” Quickly, her eyes flashed to Ted and then shifted back to rest on mine. “Bella, let me explain. It was a simple mistake. At the casino, Ted gave me the phone number where he was staying—with Des. When we got home from the casino, I called him, but I felt so guilty about Gianni, I hung up. You know what falling in love can be like, torturous at times. I can’t remember how many times I called and hung up. It wasn’t until I got up in the morning that I realized I had your phone. Remember when we came home from the casino? We both put our bags and phones on the table by the door. Our cell phones were almost identical, and somehow I picked up the wrong one.

“Finally, I got the courage to call Ted. Afterwards, I realized I had the wrong phone, so I put it next to your purse. Then the next night was the night I stayed in and the rest of you went into Chamonix. While the rest of you were getting ready to go into town, I decided to call Ted again. I had forgotten to charge my phone, so when I saw yours, I used it. It didn’t seem like a big deal. I think it might have been the snowstorm, but we kept getting disconnected, so we kept calling each other back.” She took a breather here, and directed her full attention to Ted. “When I found out you were leaving, I decided to send you a souvenir.”

After a moment’s pause and a search for some understanding in my eyes, Tiziana rose to her feet, stiffly. Her hands shook as she raised them to her face. Pushing back her long, black hair, she tried to cool her flushed skin. We all sat and stared at her silently. “I’m so embarrassed. I never thought I would be explaining this to most of you, and definitely not all at once.”

She paced the room, trying to figure out what to say. “It was only after the restraining order was delivered that I began to wonder if this could be my fault. I wanted to tell Ted right away, but he never mentioned the package I had delivered to him, and I was too embarrassed to ask. I thought perhaps it was too risqué for him.” She looked up at him. Her cheeks were deep red and a faint smile crossed her lips. “After Gianni and I were officially over, things with Ted moved quickly. We were so swept up. I did ask Ted to talk to Des, hoping that with time it would all be resolved, simply, quietly.” She finished in a whisper.

I looked at Des. He was looking at Tiziana, stunned, his mouth opening and closing like a guppy. My brain was trying to absorb what she’d said. I looked at Liam and saw compassion in his eyes, for whom I wasn’t sure. Ted had taken Tiziana into his arms and murmured quietly in her ear.

We remained silent for a minute or two. Finally, Des cleared his throat, looking completely uncomfortable. He looked at me and said with sincerity, “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m genuinely sorry.” He looked at Tiziana as he stood to go. “Brynn received the package. We knew it came from the chalet you’d rented, since it was the same address you gave the chauffeur when we dropped you off the night we met. I never told Ted about the package. There didn’t seem to be any reason to.”

My brain was functioning enough to let me know that he was about to leave and that I had things to say. That I was worthy of respect, not just pity.

“Wait!” I almost shouted. “I’d like for you to stay.” I stood and wiped my hands on my dress, as if the action would smooth away the emotional upheaval we were all feeling. I looked at Tiziana, who had left the safety of Ted’s embrace. I said, “A million thoughts ran through my mind. The most prevalent one is that you’d hoped it would quietly go away. I’ve had to endure a restraining order being filed against me which, to the best of my knowledge, could follow me forever. I’ve had to explain this to my family and friends. I’ve had to deal with the open hostility of my employer. I’ve had to work every hour of the day and night to prove myself to her. I’ve had to endure whispering from co-workers and strangers. I’ve had to crawl out of a bar, and I’ve spent months hoping that there wouldn’t be more legal problems to follow. I’ve been hurt, confused, humiliated, and questioned my own judgment, all because you hoped it would go away quietly. I came here, risking the wrath of my boss, because of our friendship. It broke my heart to think I couldn’t come to your wedding. To me, a little embarrassment is worth friendship. Finding this all out, here and now, like this… You’re selfish.”

I turned and looked at Des. He seemed about to say something but thought better of it. “I’m sorry for having judged you so harshly. I don’t know you and you didn’t deserve it.”

I turned to Ted and said, “I’d like to leave sooner rather than later, and if you could make that happen, I would appreciate it.”

With that, I turned on my heel, walked out the sitting room, passed our group of friends and family who were hovering in the corridors, and entered my room. I sat down on the chair by the window and cried.

A FEW HOURS LATER
, the boat anchored at the dock in Saint-Tropez. Liam and I made a quiet exit. A private car awaited us; our belongings were stowed in the trunk.

Just before we stepped into the car, Ted hugged me and said, “Please call her. She’s devastated.”

I kissed him on the cheek and said, “Me too.” I received another quick hug before he and Liam shook hands. I heard them speaking quietly while I arranged myself in the car.

It turned out that Ted had been quite generous. The driver of the elegant black Mercedes whisked us to a private airport. We were flown back to London in Ted’s private jet. I patted Liam’s knee as he took in all the finery and assured him that I still loved his toys more.

“I don’t know, I think you’re making a big mistake,” he said.

Not entirely convinced I understood what he was referring to, I didn’t respond and allowed myself to be lulled into sleep by the hum of the jet and the coziness of the reclined seat. The strain of the preceding few hours had worn me out.

No sooner had we landed and exited the plane than my phone rang. It was Taylor letting me know her mother was in town. “Not to worry, Liam and I are here in London. We’ll be home in an hour or so.”

Surprised and confused, she asked me an array of questions. Instead of answering them, I only asked, “Where is she staying?” I was certain I couldn’t face Faith Clarkson anytime sooner than I had to. “Oh, okay, see you then.” Once I reassured Liam that she was staying at the Savoy, he relaxed, too.

It was strange, returning to Hillary’s house. I imagined my friends floating on the Mediterranean, trying to soothe Tiziana. Taylor wanted to hear all the gossip. Liam did his best to be entertaining, but, sensing that something was amiss, she took herself off to bed. Not long after, we did the same.

Liam curled himself around me, his hand skimming my skin from shoulder to knee, dropping kisses wherever they landed. “I’m sorry. I know it all seems childish. Just don’t forget that, in the past Tiziana, has been a true friend,” he whispered into my ear.

I rolled over. “I know. I just feel drained. Not just from what happened on the boat, but the whole eight months.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and inhaled his scent, letting myself drift away. I felt him gently move us into a more comfortable position and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, we slept in, made and ate a huge breakfast, and lazed around. The surroundings and privacy felt quite luxurious, since Taylor had taken herself out for the morning. I suggested that it might be better for me to go to Ireland for the weekend instead of him returning to London.

“Coward! You just don’t want to hear what Hillary has to say about Des, Tiziana, or the rest of the trip,” he said, knowing she was due back at the end of the week.

“First, I don’t think you want our first fight to be about this! You’re calling the wrong person a coward. I just thought that having another weekend alone would be wonderful, but if you’d rather be here with Hillary, Taylor, and whomever else, that’s just fine!” I was perhaps a little too harsh for a person claiming not to want a fight.

After leaving him at the airport, I deposited myself at my desk and prepared for my meeting with Faith the next day.

I was relieved to find out that nothing significant had occurred in my absence and felt quite ready to deal with the devil. The transition team had done well. The new offices were up and running at almost one-hundred percent. A huge gala was in the planning, and celebrities on both sides of the Atlantic had been invited.

Let the celebrity pandering begin!

I decided to take the Tube home, not having ridden it since my return to London. The clatter of shoes against the stairs, noise ricocheting off the tile walls, and the faint smell of diesel pulled me back in time. Memories from what seemed a lifetime ago, when Hillary, Marian, Kathleen, Tiziana, and I were eager graduate students.

I was pulled out of my reverie by the train’s arrival at Knightsbridge. I decided to walk the rest of the way, since it was a beautiful evening. I took out my cell phone and called Taylor. Fortunately, she was free, so we decided to meet at Covent Gardens to find some dinner.

When we finally settled in at Bertorelli Restaurant, she told me all about her day with her mother. Her crumpled light gray linen suit bore the signs of the day’s struggles.

“Good luck tomorrow, that’s all I can say. Lord, she’s foul when she’s tired. I’m not sure I can show my face at the Savoy ever again. Everyone who works there along with the guests were on pins and needles by the time we finished tea. Can you believe she sent the tea back with instructions on how to make it properly?” She tipped back her large glass of red wine, drained it, and then grabbed a waiter by the sleeve to beg for another.

“Certainly, madam,” he said, but he appeared to be wondering if he ought to.

She briefly rested her head on the back of the burgundy leather chair and stared up at the ceiling. The frown melted off her face as the serene surroundings and wine took effect. Having taken a moment to regroup, she leaned forward. “Okay, spill it, sister! It must have been a doozy of a trip!”

Impatiently, she waited while I finished my glass of wine and nibbled my way through a breadstick. Reluctantly at first, I recounted everything including the confrontation between Des and me then Tiziana’s confession, ending with my request to get off the boat as soon as possible. She sat silently, listening to the whole story without interruption. I was just finishing up when our main courses appeared. The waiter seemed relieved to see her glass still half-full.

After he deposited our meals before us with a
buon appetito
, she let out a quiet whistle. “Wow, poor Tiziana! How embarrassing.” When I failed to echo her concern, she said, “Look, I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but surely you can see how silly this is. She must have been humiliated to have to tell you what had happened in front of Des and Liam. I’d rather spend another day with my mother at the Savoy than witness that train wreck. I suppose it might have been funny if it had been just the two of you.”

“Trust me, it was never going to be funny. She knew all that time that she could have been responsible for the restraining order, and yet she didn’t tell me. I would never have done that to her.” I stabbed at a bite of tagliatelle and pumpkin.

“Look, she lives in Italy, and you lived in New York. She probably had no idea how much all this had affected you, personally and professionally. She wasn’t around to see people pointing fingers and hearing the gossip. Unless you had told her, how could she have known? You didn’t talk to her for a couple months! And when you called her, she didn’t hold a grudge. Listen! You know how self-absorbed people falling in love can be! Take yourself, for example!”

I was so busy contemplating what she had said that it took a full minute for the last part to sink in. “What do you mean?” I clattered my fork onto my plate.

“Marcus and I have decided to call it quits.” She pushed back her plate and downed her second glass of wine, all while keeping an eye out for our roving waiter.

“What? Why? When did this all happen?”
My God, I
had
been completely self-absorbed.

The waiter had seen Taylor’s subtle wave and came to take her order. He cleared our dinner plates and asked if we’d like anything besides another glass of wine. I ordered strawberry gelato, and Taylor ordered some kind of chocolate truffle cake—a sure sign of a broken heart.

“It has nothing to do with love. We love each other very much. It’s distance. I’m here, he’s in New York. We could fly back and forth, but for how long? I need to be here, I need the opportunities that being here will give me. It was a hard and horrible decision, but we both think it’s for the best. Don’t look at me like that. It’s hard enough. You’ll make me cry, and I don’t want to. I want to eat my chocolate dessert and enjoy a night out.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and her voice got higher and squeakier.