Page 1 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

It’s the perfect day for a wedding—fierce sunshine, a light breeze, the temperature on the warmer side of cool.

The balcony off the ballroom at Café Royal is set up beautifully, flowers spilling over the sides of tall vases dotted between the outdoor furniture and pyramid patio heaters.

Regent Street is bustling down below, this little canopied secret spot secluded and out of the way.

Which is why I’m here now.

I just needed to escape the chaos of Clark and Rachel’s wedding day for a moment.

Various members of the bridal party are stressing out over flowers, dresses, hair, and makeup.

And the fact they’re running a few minutes behind schedule.

I feel like an empty vessel of a woman standing in the middle of the madness. Lost. Not hearing. Not seeing.

But feeling.

My heart turns in my chest again, as it has constantly this past week, my eyes closing briefly to blink away the relentless reminders of him. Reminders of us.

On a deep breath, I approach the edge of the balcony, looking down onto the crowds of London. Scooters weave around red double-decker buses and black cabs, horns honk, bells on bicycles ding. It’s chaos. A lot like my thoughts.

Lowering to a nearby rattan couch, I turn my phone in my hand as it notifies me of another message. I shouldn’t read it. And yet my eyes drop to the screen.

Amelia, I’m begging you. Please, I need to see you.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and delete it, sending his worthless words to the trash along with every other message and email he’s sent.

I try so hard to find the fixed smile I’ve worn this past week before I return to the celebrations, but my shattered heart is far from done hurting.

Everything is an effort. My only saving grace is that everyone is so wrapped up in the day, my distraction isn’t being noticed.

My phone clutched tightly in my hand, I get up and step back into the ballroom, gazing around. It’s stunning when it’s an empty room. Now, with rows of gold chairs lined up, two enormous vases at the end of the aisle bursting with blush roses, and candles lighting the way, it’s beyond that.

“Oh, thank God, I’ve found you.”

I whirl around and find Clark pacing towards me. “Hey.” I smile and motion to the masterpiece of a ballroom. “Doesn’t it look incredible?”

“Wonderful.” He frowns and gives the space way less admiration than it deserves. “I’ve lost the cake. My one job was to get the cake here, and it’s missing.” He takes my hand and squeezes, crushing my phone in my grasp. “Please help me find the cake.”

“The cake is safe and sound.” I flex my hand, encouraging him to release me. “The wedding planner had the kitchen staff move it to the fridge to keep it cool.”

Clark deflates before my eyes. “Christ.” His cheeks puff out, the back of his hand wiping his brow. Then he smiles. “You look lovely.” He steps back and takes me in. “This colour suits you.”

I gaze down my front to the floor-length chiffon skirt and matching bandeau top, just an inch of my midriff exposed. “Thanks.”

“Teal.”

I freeze, jarred, my eyes still cast down. “What?”

“It’s teal,” he says. “The colour of your dress.”

“Sure. It’s teal.”

“Actually, it’s more muted. Like the sea. You know, when you’re not sure if it’s blue or green.”

Jude’s eyes.

“Seafoam,” I murmur.

“Yes, that’s it!” Clark sings, as if the colour of my dress is something to celebrate.

I suddenly want to rip it off my body. And since when has my brother been so observant?

“Fuck, I’m nervous.” He starts twiddling his thumbs and looking around the ballroom before checking his watch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His anxiety is the distraction I need, to be able to focus on someone else’s worries. “Hey,” I say, trying to get my head on straight. “You’ve got this.” I link my arm through his and start to lead him out of the ballroom. “We need to vacate; your guests will be directed in from the bar shortly.”

“Why haven’t I had a drink?” he asks. “I need a drink.”

“Let’s get you a drink.” I could do with one myself too, so I take Clark to the bar on the bottom floor rather than the bar where all the guests are congregating and drinking cocktails.

I order two dirty martinis and sit my beloved little brother on a stool, putting a drink in his hand when the barman slides them across to me.

Clark frowns at my choice but doesn’t question it, knocking the olive aside and tipping the drink back. “Jesus, Clark, you’re supposed to sip.”

He gasps and sets the glass down. “I feel better already.” He pops the olive in his mouth and sighs. “Is she nervous?” he asks. “Even a bit?”

I smile, sipping my martini. This is what I should be consumed by. My brother’s wedding day. “She has butterflies, her words.”

“Rachel doesn’t get nervous.”

He’s right, come to think of it. In the seven years they’ve been together, I’ve never seen her flustered or awkward. She just gets on with things. It was a novelty to see her a little apprehensive.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Clark checks the vicinity before leaning in closer. “You can’t tell a soul.”

My eyebrows rise over my glass. “What?”

His lips press together briefly. “We’re pregnant.”

I cough over my sip. “Fuck.”

“I know!”

“Oh my God, Clark, that’s amazing.” My glass lands on the bar with a loud clink, and I haul him in for a hug.

“Congratulations.” Then I quickly push him away, scowling.

“I knew there was something afoot when I walked into the bathroom and Rachel pulled a hand towel off the rack to cover herself. How far gone is she?”

He chuckles. “Only a few weeks. She’s not even showing. She’s just paranoid she won’t get into her dress. And you know Dad. She’s worried he’ll think less of her.”

I snort. “She doesn’t need to worry about that when I’m around to continuously disappoint him.”

My brother’s face softens, and he takes my hands, squeezing. “How are you doing?”

“You mean because you’re a total shitbag and neglected to tell my ex he’s been uninvited to your wedding?”

He winces. “I couldn’t do it.”

I can’t be too pissy with Clark. I couldn’t do it either. Or, more like, I just didn’t have the energy to spare. So I will be spending my day avoiding Nick. “Don’t worry,” I say over a tired exhale. “It’s not like you didn’t have other things on your mind.”

“Correct. As do you, obviously, and it isn’t the fact that Nick’s here today. You’re not alright.”

“Okay, let’s not do this today.”

“No, we will do this today, and you have to listen to me because it’s my day.”

“You look very handsome.”

“Thanks.” Clark peeks down his front and grins. Then scowls, returning his attention to me when he’s figured out my strategy. “Jude turned up at our flat again this morning.”

I shrink, feeling the walls closing in. “On your wedding day?”

“He didn’t know it was my wedding day until he saw my suit hanging on the hook in the hallway and I explained.”

“So now he knows.”

“Yes.”

“Therefore he’ll back off and let me be with my family.

” Stop texting? Stop calling? Stop trying to reach me through my friends and loved ones?

No, he won’t, as demonstrated with his latest message.

I don’t know what he intends to say if I give him the grace of my time. Regardless, I don’t want to hear it.

“Amelia, I—”

“Not today.” I stand, releasing myself from his hold.

Not any day. Clark doesn’t know the circumstances of my and Jude’s demise.

Charley and Abbie do, but that’s only because I turned up at Abbie’s soaked to the bone, barefoot, and crying rivers.

She was straight on the phone to Charley.

Not to FaceTime, but to tell her to get her arse there immediately, which she did.

I then sobbed my way through the whole hideous, embarrassing story while they fed me wine and gasped their disgust. I can’t tell my family.

I feel like a big enough fool without them knowing I was taken for a complete mug. “Today is about you.”

Clark sighs. “I just don’t get how you went from seriously besotted to ... nothing.”

“I never said I was besotted.”

His expression is full of impatience. “You were seeing a lot of him, Amelia. You told Mum and Dad you were seeing him too. Then the next day you’re suddenly not?

What happened? Did he do something? Because the crap you fed Mum and Dad about him being a bit too keen was utter bullshit, and you know it.

You were keen too. I saw it in you, and now it’s like you hate him. ”

I do.

I stare at my brother, at a loss. Let’s get deeper. “In other news, I’ve found an apartment. And Dad starts his golf lessons next week.”

Clark sighs louder and harder as my phone rings in my hand. I reject the call, irritated, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Him?”

“No.” I slap on a smile. “I’ve got to get back to the suite.”

“There you are!” Abbie hurries in, holding up the bottom of her blush gown. “The guests are being shown into the ballroom.”

“Fuck.” Clark becomes all nervous again, scanning the top shelf behind the bar.

“No,” I say, linking arms with him. “You’ll be swaying as your bride glides to you.”

Abbie chuckles and takes Clark’s other arm, and we start to walk him out of the bar.

She peeks across my brother to me, her dark hair piled high, loose locks cascading down sporadically here and there.

She looks lovely. I put my hair up too, until I saw the disappointment on Rachel’s face.

It’s now free and wavy, spilling over my shoulders, a small gold jewelled clip keeping one side back.

“That colour looks lovely on you,” Abbie muses.

My smile is tight. “Thank you.”

“Teal,” Clark mumbles, distracted by his nerves.

“It’s slightly paler than teal,” Abbie declares. “Like—”

“Seafoam,” Clark adds.

“Yes, seafoam!”

Jesus Christ. “I better get back to Rachel.” I hand my brother over to Abbie. “Can you make sure he gets to the ballroom?”

“Just give me a minute,” Abbie says to Clark. Then she claims me and pulls me to one side. Clark eyes us suspiciously. I shrug. “Jude showed up at my flat as I was leaving.”

I breathe out my exasperation. “Was that before or after he showed up at Clark’s?”

“Oh?”

I want to ask what was said, but I won’t. I can guarantee it involved the cold shoulder from Abbie.

“I know everything,” Clark says as he moves in, playfully shoulder-barging Abbie.

I laugh under my breath. How wrong he is. “Look, guys, I’m sorry he’s bothering y—”

“There you all are!” Charley hurries in, her wild strawberry-blond curls looking like a bouncing cape fanned out behind her.

I dread to think how long it took her to do her hair.

It’s incredible, though, and her sickeningly tight body—post two children—encased in a silver satin wrap dress is seriously banging.

“The minister is asking for you, Clark. And Rachel is stressing about where you are.” Charley nods at me. “That colour on you!”

Someone get this fucking dress off me. “I’m going,” I say, leaving them to get Clark where he needs to be.

“Wait.” Charley chases at my heels, stopping me at the door. “Lloyd said Jude stopped by.”

“Oh my God,” I yell, stressed, frustrated, angry, and every emotion in between. I give each of them a moment of my eyes. “It’s Rachel and Clark’s wedding day, so can we get on with it?”

All looking wary, they retreat, and I nod, happy, hitching up my skirt and leaving them, wishing I could take my own advice and get on with it.

Get on with my life.