‘Keep ’em closed, no peeking.’ Jameson is leading Sawyer by the hand to the venue of their rehearsal dinner.
‘Okay, okay, no peaking I promise. But where are we going?’
‘Soon. Soon. We’re almost there.’ He leads her a few more steps to a door and then up a few more steps. ‘Okay. I’m gonna remove the blindfold.’
‘Finally!’
‘Ta da.’ Jameson whispers in her ear after taking off the blindfold.
‘Oh my God!’ Sawyer cannot quite believe her eyes.
Their family and closest friends have gathered for the rehearsal dinner which he planned. The venue is her favourite bookshop in Little Venice. He’d taken over the entire bookshop and they set up a long dinner table in the middle of the first floor, surrounded by books, on close inspection Sawyer knows they are all the books she’d worked on and sold, flowers, candles and fairy lights. It had taken Jameson weeks of planning without Sawyer whiffing something out, not that she could anyway considering they do not spend enough time together. But this, everything about tonight, touched her immensely. She is an editor at one of the biggest publishing houses, a celebrated one at that, books are her whole world and he did this all for her.
Sawyer leans in and kisses her fiancé, tonight she will be cocooned in the fairytale and fantasy of the world all around them.
The cake is designed as a stack of books, her books from her writers that had gone on to become best sellers. He really thought of her when he did this.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Jameson rests his head on hers and for the moment it is just the two of them until someone clears their throat.
‘Shall we eat?’ Rosalie asks the happy couple.
‘Yes! Let’s.’
The couple take their places at the table and the night’s festivities begin.
Rosalie and Summer exchange a knowing glance, hopeful. The two had become fast friends on Summer’s last jaunt to London and just five hours before this occasion both women were together with Sawyer, for a much-needed tête-à-tête.
‘Hello darling. What a lovely surprise.’
Sawyer is enveloped in her father’s warm embrace, the second he came down from the grand staircase. Home. She’d loved growing up here and coming back from time to time. Not enough in her mother’s opinion. She should be in wardrobe for her rehearsal dinner tonight, she still had not decided on what to wear. However, as excited as she was about everything about to happen, her mind was not at peace with the secret she’d been keeping from her family.
‘It’s good to see you too daddy. Is mummy here?’
‘Yes she is. Everything okay?’ Henry observed his youngest child, the baby of the family whom they spoilt rotten and loved dearly. Sawyer could do no wrong; she is the one they will drop everything for, at any given time day or night. Incredibly kind, whip smart and loving to a fault; Sawyer was the apple of all their eyes, only, his baby girl, because she always will be that to him, looked anything but this morning.
‘No.’
Before she could lunge into her woes, the doorbell rang, and the butler answered it. A few moments later, Summer Summers walked into the living room.
‘Ms Summers!’
‘Sawyer dear. How are you?’ Both women exchange pleasantries before Henry welcomed the woman who is to become his in-law shortly, to their home.
‘Ms Summers welcome. Good to see you again. You look well.’
‘Henry I have told you to call me Summer.’
Henry Mulberry laughed that cheerful laugh of his, feigning innocence. Just then Rosalie made her way down the steps, dressed in her favourite cashmere lounge set. In about two hours the house will be a hive of activity with hair, makeup and the works. Jameson had taken the burden of planning the rehearsal dinner away from them so that was one thing off her list.
‘Oh Summer you look positively lovely. How are you?’
‘Very well. And you? You look divine.’
Henry could see that his daughter was getting antsy with everyone just exchanging pleasantries after she just admitted to not being okay.
‘Sawyer, my darling, what’s the matter?’ Rosalie could always tell when there was something wrong with any of her children, Sawyer in particular.
‘I need to tell you something.’
‘I’ll make myself busy in the -’
‘No. You should stay, you know what I’m about to say anyway.’
‘Let’s go to the library and I’ll ask the kitchen to make a pot of chamomile tea.’ Rosalie took charge, feeling her daughter’s nerves buzzing about her; Sawyer was literally vibrating.
‘Come honey.’ Gently Rosalie led them to them the library, away from prying ears and eyes. ‘Tell us what the matter is?’
‘Jameson and I are getting married because Marcel is blackmailing me.’
‘What the fuck!?’ Henry immediately goes into Papa Bear mode whilst Rosalie silently exhales, listening to their daughter tell them everything with Summer Summers present for support.
She knew something was up with her daughter, this is not the woman they raised to be fearless and loving, kind and intuitive and one of the more inquisitively curious people she knows. Lately however, in the six months of her engagement to Marcel she started to notice that spark fade, that curiosity ebb and dare she even think it, some fear behind her bright eyes. When she came home a few weeks ago to tell them of her engagement to another fella in the midst of planning her wedding to Marcel, giving the simple explanation that things with Marcel had gone beyond repair, therefore she was moving on, without question, yet with more wonder, they accepted. Even more bizarre was her plea with them not to inform the Duchamps about anything because that was for Marcel to discuss with his family, they complied because this is who they are; a family that dotes on each other and lovingly and blindly sometimes, foolishly, support each other. Rosalie knows for a fact that if they were a family of serial killers they would never get caught because they would be so loyal to each other. The great Mulberry clan. It always gives her a tickle.
Sawyer is their youngest child, the baby of the family who was appropriately pampered but who could hold her one against anyone because they raised confident children who could roam the world fearless like the Romans did back then, and comfortable in their beautiful brown skin. The Mulberry children could never believe less of themselves like the world sometimes wants Black children to. The Mulberry children could never be expected to diminish themselves for the expectations of a world too weak and simpering in some corners and too dull and ridiculous in others. For them, the world was theirs for the taking. Confident and comfortable they moved through the world with kindness and goodness, smarts and intelligence, hard work and grit. Never expecting anything to be handed to them but also never kowtowing to those who would seek to diminish or belittle them.
Marcel had sought to diminish their baby girl, and he will not get away with that; over their dead bodies. They are not about to go down without a fight. Time to dig their graves and the Duchamps.
‘Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?’ Jameson whispers in Sawyer’s ear coming up behind her, his arms snaking her waist ever so casually.
‘Have I told you how handsome you look.’ Sawyer rests her head on his shoulder, at peace in the moment. It felt good coming clean to her parents earlier, the relief is palpable, and she is able to enjoy the night with both their families and friends. Jameson had introduced her to his best friends earlier, who were all present for the wedding, tight knit group all of them, his brothers their wives and partner too, alongside their children. Her family too, present in all their glory.
‘Tell me again.’ Jameson teases.
‘You look, positively…’ her eyes raked him over, biting her bottom lip, ‘positively fuckable.’
Jameson throws his head back in infectious laughter, ‘our parents are here.’
‘I know where the storeroom is.’ Sawyer’s eyes danced with a dare.
‘You are so bad.’
‘I’ve been called worse.’ Sawyer moves in closer to him. ‘Downstairs, door to your right, second door to the left.’ She reaches for a passing tray and grabs a glass of champagne before heading to the location of their sequel in the storage room.
Jameson goes the other way.
All evening, the couple, their families and friends revel in each other’s company but something did not go amiss by one and all, Sawyer and Jameson are utterly besotted with each other.
It’s there in their little kisses, the looks, the whispering, the touches and the fact that Jameson got Sawyer right to a T. with his planning of this rehearsal dinner, a thing that could have only been borne by love. It makes Summer hopeful.
‘These two idiots are so far gone they are goners.’
‘Alana you have got to come up with better puns!’ Drea says to her friend, ‘you are part of the Southern gentry, and this is the best you’ve got.’
Alana shrugs, ‘but am I lying?’
‘No, she’s not.’ Hudson answers, joining the group of friends, watching the couple.
‘What are we going to do about it?’ Shaz asks.
‘Nothing.’ Came the chorus.
‘So, we also agree this is more than what it is.’ Baxter asks, her poor husband was losing his mind about his baby sister, so it will give her much pleasure tonight to let him know everything is above board with Jameson and to fill him in on the shenanigans because Sawyer had given her blessing, and also to let him know that in about seven months they will be welcoming their fourth child whose middle name she already has picked out; boy or girl, they will be a tribute to their aunt.
‘Yep.’
‘Your boy better not hurt my girl.’ Alana drawled, ‘I promise I’m an excellent shot.’
‘As am I. If she hurts him.’ Sez, Jameson’s best friend says. They’d seen everything unfold with the couple and nothing could convince them otherwise that these two fools are head over heels in love with each other. Sawyer is Jameson’s Helen of Troy even if he doesn’t know it yet.
‘I bet you one hundred pounds each they in a storage cupboard right now.’ Alana says with a wicked grin.
‘They wouldn’t.’ Hugo says.
‘Wouldn’t they though?’ Raif another of Jameson’s friends says.
‘I bet they are not doing that. Matter of fact two hundred.’ Jacob says.
‘Done. Any other takers?’ Alana looks around.
‘Oh God. Let’s leave them alone.’ Jackson says.
‘I’m with Jacob, the whole family is here, they wouldn’t just leave their party.’ Hudson says.
‘Okay time to find out.’ Alana is so confident in her assertion. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Where are we going?’ Raif asks.
‘To sneak up on them. Duh.’ Drea turns to the others with her bright idea.
‘No. Ew.’ Hugo looks positively scandalised at the thought.
‘That’s my brother.’ Jacob points out.
‘You can sit it out.’ Baxter says already on the move to find the couple du jour.
‘Are you for real?’ Hudson asks though he too following in their lead.
‘Yup.’ The friends answer in unison.
Sawyer did not hear her phone vibrate, because nothing outside of this feeling between her and Jameson matters. It is the singular most spectacular feeling, and for however long they are married she plans on allowing herself enjoy this particular pleasure every day, multiple times a day. Surrounded by shelves of books, some love stories, some crime novels, some thrillers, the best whodunnits… she’s been here enough times to know what is stacked on each shelf considering the owner is a good friend. She loves the Nightingale Bookshop; they were one of the first to partner with her roaster of small and indie authors she works on the side. And this room, this storage cupboard, is possibly the most romantic place for Sawyer and this right here, this moment right now, is her fantasy come true.
Gently, oh so gently, Jameson let her down, steadying her on her shaky legs. ‘We’re terrible hosts.’
‘Nah, I think we throw a good party.’ Sawyer motions behind him, ‘there’s a bathroom through that door.’
With clean towels and warm water, the couple is able to right themselves to the previous state of dressed up, as if they were never here.
‘This is your favourite bookshop, isn’t it?’ Jameson helps zip her up.
‘You remembered.’
‘Of course I do.’ He smirked. ‘And I take it this is on your fantasy list of places to have sex?’
‘Only top two.’
Jameson throws his head back in laughter, before taking her hand in his, and leading them out of the storage room.
‘What the fuck are you all doing here?’ Sawyer is the one to ask the question of their waiting party outside the storage room.
‘Pay up suckers!.’ Alana throws up her hands in triumph. ‘I’ll take my winnings in cash, not bank transfer.’
The ones who challenged Alana deposit hundred-pound notes in her happy hands. She cleaned house with almost seven hundred pounds.
‘You guys placed a bet on us having sex?’
‘In the supply closet.’ Bax states.
‘It’s kinda your calling card.’ Drea allows.
‘You all were in on it?’ Jameson addresses his friends and brothers.
‘They made us.’ Jacob points to the women in front.
‘Punk.’ Sez rolls his eyes.
Sawyer’s phone vibrates in her hands for the tenth time that night and she finally pays it attention. ‘Shit!’
‘What is it?’ Jameson asks taking the phone from her limp hand and reads the text message that came through.
The others all as one step in as if to protect them almost.
I know what you’re doing.
You have 24 hours to call it off or I will go public with the video.
Marcel.