Page 84 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“Like an anti-bullshit bootcamp,” suggested Andrew.
“Exactly.”
“Camille obviously sees something in him that you can’t.”
“I don’t know what!”
“Camille is an intelligent, articulate woman—I follow her on Insta, she’s my style guru. Your personal knowledge of Guy has gaps that span years. You’ve seen him, what, twice in the last five years? She’s lived with him day after day, she is privy to the parts of his personality that you don’t know. And maybe those parts are the sides of her husband that she’s in love with and doesn’t want to give up on.”
“God. I hate it when you’re the voice of reason.” Nory pulled a pillow over her face.
“Anyway, that’s enough about boring bloody Guy. I want to know when you are going to see the handsome gardener again.”
Nory couldn’t stop her smile. Isaac seemed to have that effect on her.
“I’m not sure. I think he’s going to take me to see a lost garden tomorrow.”
“How romantic. Maybe you can get him to service your lost garden while he’s at it!”
Nory laughed. “Bye. Kiss Matilda and Seb for me.”
A knock at the door caused her to lose count of the roses in the fabric swirls of the canopy.
“Who is it?” she asked, not moving from the bed.
“It’s Guy.”
“Fuck off, Guy.”
No sound of retreating footsteps. Another knock.
“Can we talk?”
“Nope. Fuck off.”
“Nory, please. I need to talk to you. I’m going mad here. I don’t know what to do.”
Nory pulled the pillow back over her face and screamed into it. Like it or not, this was Tristan’s legacy. She could never turn her back on a person who needed help, no matter how angry they made her. Suicide had left Nory forever in fear of the worst.
She pulled herself up off the bed and opened the door. Guy stood before her, contrite, in his third change of clothes of the day.
“Can I come in?”
“Into my room? Hell no!”
“That’s fair. Somewhere quiet, then, just to talk.”
Nory sighed. “Come on, then,” she said, pulling the door closed behind her. “But if you try anything, I swear to god, I’ll take a set of nutcrackers to your gonads.”
As they came down the stairs, the bell for the front door rang. Jeremy shot down past them and skidded in front of the butler to get to the door. Katie stood in the porchway, wearing an oversized parka over baggy dungarees, tucked into a pair of green Dr. Martens boots. Her long box braids were pulled back into a thick ponytail, and she looked as tired as any pregnant woman Nory had ever seen. Husband and wife fell into each other’s arms. Jeremy was sobbing and laughing at the same time, Katie was too exhausted to do much other than lean gratefully into her husband and let him hold her up. Nory felt like she and Guy were trespassing on an intimate and much-longed-for reunion, but Katie waved up at them, smiling, and beckoned them down to say hello.
Jeremy stood behind Katie, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist, hands splayed out across her stomach. They made a striking couple, he with his typically Celtic coloring: pale, freckled skin and strawberry blonde hair, and she with her dark skin and jet-black braids. When the greetings were done, Jeremy escorted his wife up the stairs to their room. Nory didn’t expect to see either of them again today, but she hoped to get a chance to chat with Katie at some point, to hear about her adventure and her research.
The drawing room was empty. The others weren’t back from the spa yet, and Charles had taken the opportunity to catch up on some work.
“I’m sorry,” Guy began.
“I’m not interested in your sorrys, Guy; they don’t mean anything.”
