Christian shakes his head at his fiancée. “We aren’t going to that damn wedding. Not after all this shit.”
“Why not?” Kimberly asks with dead eyes.
“Because this”—Vance gestures back and forth between the two of us—“and because both of my sons are more important than any wedding, especially this one. I don’t expect you to sit there with a smile in the same room as her.”
Kimberly looks surprised, but at least partially placated by his words. I watch and keep quiet. Christian’s referral to Hardin and Smith as his “sons” for the first time has rattled me. There are so many things I could say to this man—so many hateful words I desperately want to sling at him—but I know I shouldn’t. It won’t help anything, and my focus needs to stay on figuring out Hardin’s whereabouts and how he is handling the news.
“People will talk. Especially Sasha.” Kimberly scowls.
“I don’t give a shit about Sasha or Max, or anyone. Let them talk. We live in Seattle, not Hampstead.” He reaches for her hands, and she lets him gather them between his. “Fixing my mistakes is the only priority I have right now,” he says, his voice shaky. The cold anger I feel toward him begins to melt, but only slightly.
“You shouldn’t have let Hardin out of the car,” Kimberly says, her hands still in Christian’s.
“I couldn’t exactly stop him. You know Hardin. And then my seat belt got stuck, and I couldn’t tell where he went . . . goddammit!” he says, and Kimberly softly nods in agreement.
I finally sense it’s time for me to speak. “Where do you think he went? If he doesn’t show up at the wedding, where should I look?”
“Well, I just checked both bars I know that are open this early,” Vance says with a frown. “Just in case.” His expression softens when he looks at me. “I know now I shouldn’t have separated him from you while I told him. It was a huge mistake, and I know that you’re what he needs right now.”
Unable to think of anything remotely polite to say to Vance, I give him a simple nod and pull my phone from my pocket to try Hardin yet again. I know his phone won’t be on, but I have to try.
While I call, Kimberly and Christian look at each other silently, hand in hand, each searching the other’s eyes for some sign. When I hang up, he looks at me and says, “The wedding is starting in twenty minutes. I can drive you there now, if you want.”
Kimberly holds up a hand. “I can drive her. You take Smith and go back to the hotel.”
“But—” he begins to argue, but given the look on her face, he wisely chooses not to continue. “You’ll come back to the hotel, won’t you?” he asks, his eyes filled with fear.
“Yes.” She sighs. “I’m not going to leave the country.”
Relief replaces Christian’s panic, and he lets go of Kimberly’s hands. “Be careful and call me if you need anything. You know the address of the church, right?”
“Yes. Give me your keys.” She holds out one hand. “Smith’s fallen asleep, and I don’t want to wake him.”
I silently applaud her strong demeanor. I would be a mess if I were her. I am a mess now, on the inside.
LESS THAN TEN MINUTES LATER, Kimberly drops me off in front of a small church. Most of the guests have already gone inside, leaving only a few stragglers on the outside steps. I take a seat on a bench and watch the streets for any sign of Hardin.
From where I’m sitting, I can hear the wedding march start up inside the church and picture Trish in her wedding gown, walking down the aisle to meet her groom. She’s smiling and bright and beautiful.
But the Trish in my mind doesn’t coincide with the mother who lies about the father of her only son.
The steps empty, and the last few guests go inside to watch Trish and Mike wed. Minutes tick by, and I can hear nearly every sound coming from inside the small building. A half hour later, the guests cheer as the bride and groom are pronounced husband and wife, which I take as my cue to leave. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I can’t just sit here and wait. Trish will be exiting the church soon, and the last thing I need is an awkward run-in with the new bride.
I begin walking back the way we arrived, at least I think. I don’t remember exactly, but it’s not like I have anywhere to go. I pull out my phone again and redial Hardin, but his phone is still off. My battery is less than half-full, but I don’t want to power it off, in case Hardin tries to call.
As I continue my search, aimlessly walking the neighborhood and looking inside at restaurant bars here and there, the sun begins to set in the London sky. I should have asked Kimberly to borrow one of their rentals, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time and she has other things to worry about right now. Hardin’s rental is still parked at Gabriel’s, but I don’t have a spare key.
The beauty and grace of Hampstead diminishes with each step I take into the other side of town. My feet are aching, and the spring air is growing colder as the sun sets. I shouldn’t have worn this dress or these stupid shoes. If I had known how today was going to turn out, I would have worn workout clothes and sneakers to make it easier to chase Hardin down. In the future, if I ever leave town with him again, that will be my standard uniform.
After some time, I can’t tell if my mind is playing tricks on me or if the street I’ve wandered onto is actually familiar. It’s lined with small houses much like Trish’s, but I had been drifting in and out of sleep when Hardin drove us into town, and I don’t trust my mind right now. I’m thankful that the streets are mostly empty and all the residents seem to be inside for the night. Otherwise, sharing the streets with the people leaving the bars would make me even more paranoid. I nearly burst into tears of relief when I see Trish’s house a little ways off. It’s grown dark, but the streetlamps are on, and as I get closer, I’m increasingly positive it’s her house. I don’t know if Hardin will be there, but I pray that if he isn’t, the door will at least be unlocked, so I can sit down and have some water. I’ve been walking aimlessly around block after block for hours. I’m lucky that I ended up on the only street in this village that could be of any use to me.