Page 46 of Valentine Nook (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #1)

Lando

I don’t think I’ve ever been so unhappy in my entire life.

It’s been five agonizing days since Holiday left, and for four and a half of them, I’ve been trying to figure out a way we can be together.

The only plan I’ve come up with is for Alex to take over Burlington and for me to oversee operations from a New York HQ that doesn’t exist yet.

But if Alex agrees, then I’ll be flying over to find an office as soon as the plane is fueled.

If he doesn’t, then . . . well, I haven’t gotten that far.

I’ve only made it to The One True Love, where I’m shivering next to the blazing fire with Hamish at my feet while I try finding my solution at the bottom of a pint.

One look at me and Eddie cleared the back room so I have it to myself, just like I did on my first date with Holiday.

My head falls into my hands. Christ. What a mess.

“Well, hello, fancy seeing you here.”

My head snaps back up at the sound of Miles’s voice. “How’d you find me?”

“Eddie called.”

Traitor. I scowl over at the bar, not that he cares. He misses Holiday as much as everyone else, but when my mother walks around the corner, my scowl narrows and aims at Miles instead. My mother, whom I’ve been avoiding.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Congratulations,” I grunt. “You found me.”

“Yes, and I see you’ve decided to stop shaving again, darling.”

My head snaps up. I’m not in the mood for this shit. If they thought I was hard to be around after Caroline, they haven’t seen anything yet.

“Mother—” My voice carries a warning tone for whatever she came here to say, which she obviously decides to ignore.

“ Orlando . I am your mother?—”

“Don’t even think about trying to set me up on another date. I’m done.”

Her mouth purses, and she stares at me for a second until her face softens. She scooches in next to me, and just like she did when I was younger and having a bad day, she pushes her fingers through my hair. It’s oddly comforting and lulls me into a false sense of security.

“I know I promised not to interfere, but I lied. Do not let that girl get away.”

The all-too-familiar tightening of my throat happens again, and it’s really starting to piss me off. I shift back along the leather booth.

“She broke up with me , Mum. What am I supposed to do? I can’t force her to change her mind.

It was her decision, not mine,” I snap, but I can’t help it.

I’m angry. I’m sad and angry with Holiday for giving up so easily.

“We’re going to be on different continents for a year.

There’s literally no time to see each other. ”

Not sure why I’m trying to convince my mum when I can’t even convince myself.

“Find time,” she responds before standing. Helpful as always. “Anyway, must go. I said I’d pop over to Mrs. Winston’s to discuss the Christmas fair.”

On the way out, she passes Miles, walking back to the table carrying two pints of beer, one of which he places in front of me. He pulls out the opposite chair and sits down.

“Did Mum tell you to go after Holiday?”

“Something like that.”

“I think you should.”

“Don’t you start.” I swipe the foam from my top lip. “She’s got an amazing role on Broadway. Short of moving the theater to London, there’s nothing I can do.”

Hmm. There’s an idea.

Miles shrugs and gets out his phone. “I have something that will cheer you up.”

“Nothing’s going to cheer me up.”

“How much d’you want to bet?”

I groan, “Miles, if you’re going to be deliberately annoying, then I’d rather be left alone if it’s all the same to you.”

Unfortunately, it doesn’t deter him. Quite the opposite. “Okay, no bet, but how about you shut up and listen? This morning, I was watching one of those American chat shows they have, you know the ones on late every night, and Holiday was on it.”

“I’m not interested,” I lie. I’m very interested. I can’t help it. I want to know everything she’s doing. I just don’t want anyone else to know that’s what I want.

I need time to lick my wounds in private. If that includes watching her on some goddamn American TV program where she’s smiling and laughing and moving on with her life while I’m here being my most miserable self, then so be it.

It’s bad enough that twice this week I’ve seen Holiday’s face staring at me. Once from the back page of the Financial Times , where a full-sized ad had been taken out for the same Gucci campaign that’s on the side of the buses. The other was a movie poster for her upcoming film.

I’m never going to escape it. Her beautiful face will follow me for the rest of my life.

I’ve already told the board that my monthly meetings in London will need to be conducted remotely until next year.

Miles slaps a set of headphones in my palm. “Stop being a dick and watch this.”

I don’t have the energy to argue.

Sitting back, I stare at the screen paused on Holiday’s face. Immediately, my chest seizes. Even a little pixilated, she looks beautiful, and she looks happy. She’s in her natural habitat.

This is where she belongs, not here in Valentine Nook surrounded by cows. I was stupid to ever think it could be a possibility.

I press play, but I’m so focused on her face that I barely hear what the host is laughing about as he shuffles his question cards.

“That’s good. Now tell me what you’ve been doing since you won your Oscar. Has it been crazy?”

Holiday turns and smiles at the audience. As she does, there’s a split second when she looks directly into the camera, and it feels like she’s looking straight at me.

“Actually, no. It’s been very peaceful and relaxing.”

“And is it true you met an English duke?” He pronounces it dooke. Just like Holiday does.

I barely breathe as Holiday laughs. A sound I’d almost forgotten. “It is.”

“I can’t blame you because this guy . . . wow , I didn’t know they made English guys who looked like this?—”

My eyes almost get stuck from rolling so hard. What an idiot.

But then one of the shots of Holiday and me in Paris fills the screen, followed by the polo match, and one from the Fall Ball I haven’t seen before. The studio audience claps and squeals, and when the camera pans back to Holiday on the sofa, her cheeks are pinker.

“Are you going to be inviting us around for afternoon tea, guvnor ?”

“You know, Jimmy, maybe I will.”

“Can we have those little cucumber sandwiches?”

“Sure.” She laughs again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Now what’s next after the movie? What’s lined up for next year?”

“I’m trying something new. I’m heading to a stage in?—”

I’m losing the will to live. I have no idea why Miles wanted me to watch these unless it was to cause me more pain for whatever slight I’ve done to him. Then I hear two words that have me rewinding.

“I’m heading to a stage in the West End, but that’s all I can say right now.”

Rewind .

“In the West End.”

I glance up at Miles. “This has to be a mistake.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think it is. There’s another one.”

Miles takes his phone back and brings up another video. Again, Holiday’s talking to the host about her time in England and how she’s not done yet. That she’ll be returning at the soonest possible moment, and she’s going to be starring in the West End next year.

“She knows the West End is London, right?”

Miles frowns. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say yes.”

“I don’t understand.” Why would I understand? It makes no sense whatsoever.

“I think she’s found a way to come back to you, buddy.” He leans over and punches my arm. “Congratulations.”

“So what? I haven’t heard from her? Does Clementine know? Am I supposed to wait until I have confirmation? ”

“Fuck no. You go and get her,” he says like he has experience chasing girls who reject him.

Miles has zero experience with this.

I’m reeling from the onslaught of information, so my wits aren’t as quick as they usually are. Therefore, when Agatha Chase marches straight up to our table, I have no way of escaping.

“Hello, Orlando.”

I groan because she’s the last person I want to see right now. I’m also mildly irked that not only does she never address me properly, she calls me Orlando . A name no one calls me except my mother, and that’s when she’s annoyed.

“Oh Agatha, please do fuck off. I’m not in the mood. You were right, okay? Yes, I’m alone. Yes, I will be alone forever. Happy?”

Agatha scoffs hard. “And I thought Miles was the most dramatic Burlington.”

“Hey,” Miles protests. “I’m right here.”

Agatha’s eyes slice down to Miles as though she’s only just noticed him.

“Hmm. Yes, so you are.” She tuts and focuses back on me. “Orlando, if you bothered to let me speak, even for a minute instead of rushing away from me every chance you get, then I’d be able to finish what I was telling you.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, you’re going to.” Her words snap out so forcefully that I’m momentarily stunned. “If you marry out of duty, you will be alone forever. If you marry out of love, it will survive the test of time and distance.”

“What?”

“You never let me finish, and all you took from what I said was being alone forever. But that’s not what’s written out for you. You have several paths ahead.”

Next to me, Miles sneers loudly. “Where’s it written? ”

“In the stars.”

Miles tips his head back to look at the ceiling, which I’ll admit raises a small smile. “You don’t honestly believe in all that, do you, Agatha? C’mon, isn’t it all a little far-fetched?”

“Only to the unenlightened, Miles,” she replies, haughtily. “If you opened up your heart a bit more, then you’d be able to accept the love you crave so deeply.”

“I get plenty of love, thank you very much.”

It’s clear exactly the version of “love” Miles is talking about, to which Agatha raises a withering eyebrow in response.