Page 6 of Love Affair in London (Once Again #12)

P iper found a comfortable seat in the airport lounge after ordering a champagne cocktail. Was it a celebration at the near miss? Or was it just comfort for what she’d walked away from?

This was her wedding day. Or, more accurately, her ex-wedding day.

She should have felt worse than she did.

But after that illuminating conversation with Juanita, then a good night’s sleep, Piper had woken this morning recognizing that she’d avoided the biggest mistake of her life.

Those girls would have made her miserable.

It wouldn’t have mattered what her feelings were for Roger, because his daughters would have made it impossible to stay together.

She still felt a twinge of guilt that her overriding emotion was relief. She’d been lonely after her divorce and missed being part of a couple. And she’d missed good sex. Roger filled all those needs.

Her ex-husband Calvin had sewn his wild oats for a couple of years, then he’d married a woman thirty years younger.

Had he swapped Piper out for a younger model, the way so many men seemed to do during a midlife crisis?

It didn’t matter. She certainly didn’t envy his wife that thirty-year gap.

Not after watching how the age difference affected her parents.

But she was glad Calvin had found happiness.

Their marriage had stopped being a real marriage.

In the end, the only thing they’d had in common was their business.

They hadn’t made love in months. She winced; it had been more like years, at least two.

They had separate bedrooms, supposedly because of his snoring.

But was that really it? They were work colleagues, not a married couple.

The divorce had been cordial, and the settlement satisfied them both.

But she had been lonely. Even if their love life had waned, she and Calvin had still been friends. Over dinner, they told each other about their day. They talked over work issues or planned the house remodel or discussed what to plant in the yard that year.

She’d missed sitting in front of the TV with someone, ranting about a show they were watching, or finding something they both enjoyed and dissecting why it had been good.

Then, a year and a half ago, she’d met Roger at a fundraiser.

It had been wonderful in the beginning, attending the opera, the symphony, dinners out.

But just as much, she’d enjoyed their evenings in, bingeing TV shows or watching movies in his home theater.

And there was the sex. Really good sex. But it wasn’t a love match the way a woman dreamed of when she was young.

Not that I’ll-simply-die-if-he-leaves-me feeling.

At her age, she hadn’t been looking for more. And she’d been satisfied.

That’s why she’d agreed to marry Roger. It was probably also why he’d asked her. But his daughters, those three immovable wedges, constantly widened the gap between them.

She sipped her champagne, distracted from her thoughts by a handsome man entering the lounge, rolling his carryon beside him. She turned away, gazing at her glass, as if she were still engaged or even a married woman. But she was neither of those things.

And she looked at him again.

Salt-and-pepper hair cut executive short and a nicely toned body, he was perhaps ten to fifteen years younger than her. Of course, she would never date anyone that much younger.

But there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy the view, and even drool a little.

His looks stunned her, like many other women in the room casting furtive glances his way, even if they had a husband sitting beside them.

He was Brad Pitt, Patrick Dempsey, and Anthony Michael Hall—not the nerdy teenage boy he’d been in Sixteen Candles , but the older, sexier hunk from The Dead Zone —all rolled into one. And he got her blood pumping.

He ordered a draft beer. Everything was free in the first-class lounge.

Of course, she’d used her miles for the flight.

Purchasing a first-class ticket was out of the question.

She wouldn’t waste her retirement money that way.

But she’d gladly used the miles for a chance to sleep all the way to London and wake up refreshed in the new time zone.

Her flight departed at five p.m., with arrival in Heathrow about eleven thirty London time.

Since they’d paid for an early check-in at their Tower Bridge hotel, she would have time to wander across the iconic bridge and have Sunday roast at a pub before settling down for a good night’s sleep at her normal time, all with minimal jet lag. It was perfect.

Even if Roger wasn’t with her.

She wondered if the good-looking man was using a company account or miles—only an accountant would think of that—or maybe he was a billionaire and paid for it himself. But if he was a billionaire, he’d have his own plane. Isn’t that what billionaires did?

Not that she’d knew a damn thing about billionaires.

Taking a seat at a table along the wall opposite her, he opened his laptop. Ah, a work trip. He’d dressed the part, too, not suit and tie, but casual black slacks and a neat polo shirt rather than jeans and a T-shirt.

Her phone rang then, and she reached into her purse, assuming it was Juanita.

The name that popped up, though, was her friend Nancy. Yesterday, Piper had left a message on Nancy’s voicemail about the wedding, but she hadn’t actually been able to speak with her friend and tell her what happened. Now Nancy would want the full story.

“Hello, darling. How are you feeling?” Nancy was always effusive. Her enthusiasm could turn a bad day bright.

“I’m doing fairly well, under the circumstances.” She didn’t want to come off sounding cavalier, especially since she was taking her honeymoon trip by herself. “I just wanted to get hold of everybody before the ceremony to let you know what was happening. I hope you got my message.”

“Oh my God,” Nancy said dramatically. “I didn’t listen to your message. I was just so busy. It seems yours got buried beneath a lot of other voicemails.”

Piper’s voice rose on something that could have been mistaken for hysteria. But she wasn’t hysterical. Not yet anyway. “Oh my God, don’t tell me…” She couldn’t finish the thought.

“I actually went to the country club for the wedding.”

Piper’s heart plunged, making her feel a little sick. That would have been a two-hour drive each way for Nancy. “I’m so sorry you showed up for nothing. Did they have anyone out front saying the wedding was canceled?”

Nancy gave what could have been the longest pause ever. Piper was about to jump in when her friend finally said, “You might have canceled the wedding, but Roger didn’t cancel the reception.”

Piper was incapable of words. Until she forced herself to say, “They had a party anyway?”

She envisioned Nancy bobbing her head. “It was the weirdest thing. I noticed something was off when we entered the ballroom and there was no set up for the ceremony, just tables and chairs for dinner and dancing. I thought maybe we’d go outside.”

It was to have been an outdoor wedding and an indoor reception.

“But finally, when everyone was gathered and drinking champagne, like a pre-wedding cocktail hour, Roger got up in front of the entire group. With his daughters right there beside him.” Nancy’s intake of breath was loud, as if she were figuring out the best way to tell the story.

“He said that, unfortunately, the wedding had been called off. But he didn’t see any reason why we couldn’t still have a party since everything was already paid for. ”

The nerve of the man. Piper couldn’t believe it. “They had a party like they were celebrating that the marriage was called off?”

“It was so weird ,” Nancy said, the word dripping off her voice.

“Then one of the daughters, honestly, I don’t know which one, grabbed the microphone, and said, ‘My dad got a lucky break and averted disaster in the end. So let’s celebrate.

’ Then, I swear to God, she raised her champagne glass, and everyone else raised theirs, and they all toasted.

” She huffed out a disgusted breath. “Of course I didn’t raise my glass. ”

They’d actually partied as if Roger had been the one to escape. “Are you the only one of my guests that went?”

“I didn’t recognize anyone else. It seemed as if they were all from his side. I swear to God, I would have left right then, but Jeremy—” Her husband of thirty years. “—said we should stay and see what everyone had to say.”

“Oh my God. That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.” Piper took a sip of her champagne to calm her nerves. “Not that Jeremy wanted to stay, but that Roger actually went through with the party.” Which would have been their wedding reception.

But here she was, going ahead with the honeymoon.

“They even had a three-tier cake, but there were no words on it and no cake topper.”

“We wouldn’t have had time to cancel the cake. What about the flowers?”

“There were flowers everywhere. The daughters were giving them away, saying, ‘Here take this, here, take that.’”

“I wonder what they did with my bridal bouquet?” The girls had probably stomped on it.

“Okay, now don’t get upset,” Nancy warned her. “But the girls went around explaining to everyone that they absolutely knew you were after their father’s money when you refused to sign a prenup.”

“I was never after his money,” she snapped, as if she weren’t talking to her friend but to the girls themselves.

“It’s true, though. I wouldn’t sign. It was all in his favor, and I wasn’t about to get into a situation where he could take everything I’ve worked for my whole life if something went wrong.

” And she knew it would have gone wrong with those daughters of his.

“Did you speak to them?” Piper had to know.