Page 30 of Must Have Been Love

HUDSON

It becomes increasingly obvious during the run up to the party that I’ve been duped about it being just a casual kid’s celebration. I’m in crisis mode thanks to the London deal, which means not only being in video calls at stupid hours of the morning, but going over to the mainland to catch a helicopter to New York to meet some investors who are getting itchy feet.

I’ve also had three calls from the local Alcohol and Beverage Commission wanting my opinion on an application for a liquor licence for The Salty Dog bar, as the main land owner of the island.

I told them I have no objection and I’d appreciate it if they pushed it through. Not because I’m interested in her, I tell myself, but because it will help the hotel if all the surrounding establishments are open for the summer.

She’s not leaving. That much is obvious. So I’ve asked Autumn to resurrect the design plans I had her draw up when I planned to buy the place. If the bar is going to be open, I’d like it to have some luxury about it. She’s promised to mention it to Skyler in a delicate way.

Whatever.

Despite everything on my mind I’m still present enough to notice the huge delivery trucks that pull up to the hotel every day, bringing food, decorations, two huge covered tents and a full-size fairground carousel with pink horses and carriages that makes Ayda jump up and down when she sees it.

“Can I have a word?” I ask Autumn, two days before the party when I get a message from Eden – our other sister – saying how sorry she is that she can’t make it to the party of the year but she hopes to visit soon.

Autumn is wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, with her ear pods in because she’s obviously making calls as she works, and has that tablet that goes everywhere with her. She’s currently talking to a man with Hal’s Hog Roasts written on his t-shirt.

As soon as she clocks me standing there, a guilty look comes over her face. “Oh, hi.” She takes a deep breath. “Can it wait? I’m kind of busy.”

I tip my head to the side. “When can you fit me into your busy schedule?” It comes out more sarcastically than I’d hoped. But she knows how fucking overwhelmed I am. The thought of this weekend’s impending doom is making my teeth grind.

She presses her lips together, like she’s weighing her options. “Okay,” she finally concedes. “I guess I have five minutes.” She looks at the Hal’s Hog Roast guy. “Can you start unloading in the back? Near the far tent. I’ll be right out.”

“Sure.”

Taking her elbow, I lead her into the reception area of the hotel, then through the door marked ‘private’ where we have offices.

Mine is at the end, overlooking the ocean. I open the old oak door – restored from the original turn-of-the-last-century hotel, and usher my sister in.

“Exactly how long have you been planning this thing?”

“What thing?” she asks, her voice faux-innocent. She gives me that doe-eyed look she thinks works with me every time.

“This party. I might be a novice at event planning, but even I know it must have taken you a hell of a lot longer than fourteen days to arrange everything that’s happening outside.”

She shifts her feet. “I’m very good at organizing things.”

“Not that good,” I growl.

She looks like she’s about to laugh. Why is it that the women I interact with think they can grab me by the balls and twist?

“Relax,” she says, patting my arm like I’m a child. “I’ve got it covered. And I scored us some pretty great deals.”

“How much is this costing me?” Truth be told, that’s the least of my concerns. It’s my kid’s birthday, I have the money, I’m okay with paying whatever it takes to make her happy. But still, I’m pissed at being kept in the dark.

“I haven’t totaled it up yet, but I set myself a really challenging budget,” she says. “And Parker says that if you don’t want to pay, we can. We’re her godparents, after all.”

“You’re not a godparent, you’re an aunt.”

“Po-tay-to po-tah-to,” she says. “Why are you such a grumpy pants? Do you know how hard I’ve been working at this? I’ve saved so much money by not hiring an event planner. And you’d better buck your mood up by the weekend. Everybody’s looking forward to seeing you.”

I blink. “Everybody?” My voice is weak.

As soon as I repeat the word she realizes she’s messed up. She swallows hard, saying nothing.

“How many people are coming to this party?” I ask, my voice ominously low.

“Just family…” She pulls her lip between her teeth. “And friends. And some people that West and Parker suggested would be good to have here.”

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