Page 19 of Executive Decision
“Mum is having a meltdown.”
“Ignore her. She wants this to beyourwedding. Just enjoy yourself. Let Sarah have her moment. We’ll make the day magical for her tomorrow.”
Dahlia saw the good in every day.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and nodded. “It’s true.”
We fell asleep, our breath synced. I slept in peace—satisfied.
* * *
I woke to Mum banging on the door, demanding my presence in the suite’s living room. I pulled on a robe and emerged looking a mess. Chandler Walker sat in the living room. I stood speechless, unsure if I was in the middle of a nightmare—or was it a dream?
“Daphne, you have a visitor,” Mum said brightly.
“I can see,” I crossed my arms. “An uninvited one.”
“Daphne, darling, my name was on the invitation.”
“And you rejected the invite,” I said.
“Daphne, he came across the world to be with you,” Mum intervened.
In her eyes, if I did anything but say yes to Chandler, I’d live a life of regret. He came to grovel. The right thing to do was to accept him back into my life, right? She knew better. I had a wild weekend with a man I couldn’t have. Here was the man who wanted me—even if he had to lose me to know that.
“Daphne, I love you and made a mess of things. Your parents were kind enough to arrange my trip so I could be here with you today. I regret everything and want to have you in my life. I love you.”
I did love him. Yesterday didn’t change that I’d been heartbroken since I returned to the US for the wedding. I wanted to give him a chance—but not like this. I needed to wash Cal Markham off me before we could even converse.
“I am glad to talk,” I said. “I will give you a chance to explain, but I’m a mess after dancing last night. Please give me a while to shower. Let’s meet for tea downstairs before I do my hair and makeup. I don’t have a lot of time, Chandler.”
“Whatever works for you, my love. I promise.”
He sounded remorseful. I had to give this one more chance, even if it made things awkward with one of the groomsmen. I washed quickly. I knew I wasn’t supposed to wash my hair and do makeup, orders from the glam squad. In a rush, I brushed out my wild, wavy hair, sprayed it with dry shampoo that would cover the smell of Cal, and put it up in a high ponytail. Sufficiently scrubbed and bare-faced, I met Chandler downstairs.
“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you,” Chandler said.
I smiled, taking in the waffle and cappuccino. “No. don’t mind at all. Thank you. You always remember my order.”
“Love, I want to apologize for all the pain I caused you. I never should have put that pressure on you. I know you were changing jobs, and… you were torn between two worlds. I don’t want to limit you, but I cannot leave the UK. I need to run for office next year. I know Labour will call an election by?—”
“I don’t want to take your political career away,” I said. “But, Chandler, that’s not all I want. I am excelling back in Chicago. I have this big new world—and brilliant opportunities.”
He shrugged. “Those don’t only exist in Chicago.”
“No, but right now, they do. You feel like home. I missed that so much this whole time, but I don’t have job prospects like this in London.”
“What if you did?” Chandler raised an eyebrow.
“But I don’t. I was stuck in a junior position at the firm.”
“And you wouldn’t be.”
I lowered my utensils and dabbed the corners of my mouth, confused.
“Come home, my love. I want this to work. I know you want to have a career and a life. That’s all we’ve wanted—for three years—to build a life together.”
He appreciated my ambition on paper and loved me deeply, but he never understood how much I longed to write my story out from underneath the family name.
