Elizabeth started giggling. “Shhh, you are so bad.”
“Lizzy, are you staying for dinner?”
Elizabeth froze. She put her hand over the phone and turned her head. Ted Bennet stood looking down at her, a roll of packing tape in his hand. “Um, no, Dad. I’m going over to Aunt Maddie’s for chili before I head back and clean up some things for Jane’s party. Next weekend will be crazy.”
“Hmm.” He stared at her, his eyes falling to the phone she clutched. “Will the person you’re talking to on the phone be involved in said craziness?”
“What?”
“Charlotte. I assume that’s who you’re talking to.”
Elizabeth let out a breath.So much for privacy hiding in the backyard.“Charlotte is the self-proclaimed leader of bachelorette insanity.”
“Good. Someone has to protect our Jane from Charles’ sisters. The skinny one has a touch of Medea in her.”
After eliciting a smile from his daughter, Ted mumbled, “You know, Lizzy. Perhaps I should go with you to the Gardiners’. Maybe then you’ll fill me in on the state of your life.”
He turned and wandered to the garage. She lifted the phone back to her ear. “Will?” she whispered. “Are you there?”
“Yes.” His voice was quiet and sounded the full four thousand miles away. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. It was just my father.”
“Wondering who you were talking to while sitting outside on a gloomy afternoon?”
She could hear the edge in his voice.Dammit.
“He assumed it was Charlotte. Will…”
“Elizabeth, don’t. I know you have your reasons for not saying anything to your parents about me. I just… Are you sure you want to wait until the rehearsal dinner?”
“I don’t know. I know it’s stupid. I hate that it bothers you. The only thing I’m sure ofisyou.”
Darcy sighed. “That’s all that matters then.”
Joe and Maddie Gardiner were thrilled to hear the news about their favorite niece’s love life. Elizabeth kept the details simple, telling them that the spark lit in May had finally caught fire in August, and she and Darcy were very, very happy together. She confessed to meeting his family, and tried to ignore the look that passed between her aunt and uncle when she confided they were keeping their relationship low-key for now.
“Barbara and your father need to know before Sylvia arrives,” Maddie said. “Youneedthem to know.”
Elizabeth swallowed a spoonful of chili, using the time to think on her response. “I know. Mary was at the book launch, and Jane asked her not to say anything. I’ll tell Lydia at the bachelorette party.” She felt her aunt’s eyes on her. “I don’t feel like making a grand announcement and debating my father about my choices in dating a Cambridge man who owns a bunch of houses on two continents but doesn’t read Plato in the original Greek. He can figure it out when he sees us together.”
The entire drive back to her apartment, Elizabeth berated herself. She was being unfair to Darcy. She’d avoided her family, keeping her happiness a secret while even Mary had noticed her sister’s glow. Darcy’s family knew. His secretary and housekeeper knew. A few friends and business colleagues knew. She wasn’t ashamed of her boyfriend in any way, but she was ashamed of herself. Darcy was fearless. He’d introduced her to his family, he’d visited her office, he’d slept in her small bedroom—and he had the bruises and aching back to show for it.
He’d come close to asking her to move in a few times, and deep inside, she knew he only held back because he was unsure of her response. Maybe he was scared of her feelings for him and his feelings for her. It had all been so fast, this overwhelming connection. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe it was better if they kept some small piece ofthemselves apart. He’d opened up to her, and she’d talked to him about her mother, her family, her anger. But still, it was frightening, all this trust and faith and love.It was too soon. It might always be too soon. It had only been a month. Dammit, there were so many maybes.
But he was so sure of her in so many ways,in all ways. Why was she letting him wonder and worry about her hesitancy in telling her family? Why was she so doubtful and holding onto her tiny scrap of an apartment? He’d done so much for her, and her gifts to him—of lightness, happiness, and joy—paled in comparison. They’d begun their acquaintance with misunderstandings. She’d even thought him rude for leaving that long-ago dinner at Marciano’s when it turned out he’d actually been racing home to care for his sister’s dying cat. She couldn’t let him misunderstand her now. She’d missed him desperately while he was gone and fought with herself not to sleep in his bed just to immerse herself in his smell. She had to tell him that she, too, was all in.
No more maybes.
It was eight o’clock by the time she arrived home and carried the boxes up to her apartment. Her head hurt from all the overthinking. She yearned to hear Darcy’s voice but couldn’t even text him for fear of waking him from a deep sleep in his dreary bed. He would be home Tuesday, and she’d already informed him that he was hers all day on Thursday to celebrate his birthday. They’d kick off their private festivities at the Yankees’ game the night before.
But first, she had a project to finish. She opened the bigger of the two boxes and began pulling out picture frames.
The Yankees were losing badly, and the couple’s desire to be alone was so great that they abandoned their box to head home after the fifth inning. Their ardor was somewhat cooled when a drunken fan of the Baltimore Orioles splashed beer on Elizabeth’s jeans and soaked Darcy’s favorite sweater. After they left the stadium, he pulled it off and threw it in the back of the car; the smell of beer and cashmere was not an appealing mix. Rudy, their driver, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Darcy was annoyed; he’d never have it cleaned by Friday when he had to head off with Charles’s entourage to New Orleans. Much to his relief, Charles had put his college buddies in charge ofplanning, so Darcy could just fly in and make a toast or two. And sleep.
He was doing a lot of thinking about sleep these days. His trip overseas had been awful. He hadn’t wanted to be there; he never wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t with Elizabeth. London was especially difficult. It always was, but having her there would have made it easier. She made everything easier.
He knew his wealth sometimes intimidated her. Darcy had never imagined a woman who would find money off-putting, but Elizabeth seemed to be more comfortable with his weekend self—unshaven, in shirts with frayed collars, puttering around the kitchen, walking on the beach or in the park. What he really wanted was for her to be comfortable with him 24/7, living in his home, sleeping in his bed, emptying his refrigerator. They’d just spent far too many days and nights apart, separated by an ocean and thousands of miles. He knew he’d have to travel again without her, but he wanted to come home to her, the only suitcase in the bedroom his. Countless nights he’d asked her to stay, and it was high time to ask her never to leave.
