Promises We Meant To Keep: Chapter 25

“THIS IS VERY…” I glance around at the terrace off my apartment, at a loss of words to describe how completely Sylvie transformed the space.

“Feminine? Elegant?” Sylvie supplies hopefully.

“Pink,” I say lamely, earning an eye roll from my…

Girlfriend? Is that what I should call Sylvie? That feels too informal, too simple. She’s not just my girlfriend. She’s the woman I love. The woman I want to protect from everyone else in the world, though she’s not as hopeless as she used to be when she was a teenager.

Though was she ever hopeless? Or was all of that an act?

“Pink and beautiful.” She scans the terrace, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. There’s a long table in the center of the space, set to perfection with delicate floral plates and matching teacups and saucers. Lush flowers and greenery line the center of the table, and each plate is covered with a strip of pink velvet ribbon engraved with a guest’s name. There’s another table off to the side, laden with a variety of desserts too beautiful to eat, and there’s a makeshift bar set close to the balcony, two men standing behind it as they catalogue what liquor they’ve brought.

“I thought this was a tea party,” I say as my gaze settles on the bar.

“With alcohol, of course.” She sends me a look. “Monty wouldn’t come unless I promised there would be liquor.”

“Is that a smart idea?” I lift my brows.

“It’s a small party. Hardly anyone is invited. I don’t want trouble. Just my friends and the family that I love. No one else.”

“Is your father coming?”

Sylvie nods, her blue eyes wide. “I couldn’t not invite him.”

“You didn’t invite your mother,” I point out.

“Don’t need another attempted murder to ruin the vibe.” Her smile is light and carefree, but her eyes turn dark. Turbulent.

“As long as your father won’t be a problem.” I take her hand, holding it up so I can study what she’s wearing. The dress is long and floral printed, reminding me of the dress she wore to Whit’s wedding. Though this one is lighter. Airier. It nips in at the waist, making her look so small. Waifish. Her hair is up, revealing her elegant neck, and she’s wearing a simple gold chain around it, with no other jewelry. Her lips are slicked with a light pink that matches the tone of her dress, her skin glowing with health. The sun bathes her in golden light, her gilded cheeks sharp. A Lancaster through and through.

She’s beautiful. Regal. And all mine. I’m filled with the sudden urge to fall to one knee and ask her to marry me. I don’t have a ring. I don’t have anything to offer her but myself and my love. And my name. I don’t want her to be a Lancaster any longer.

I want her to be a Donato. Like me.

More than that, I want her to belong to me. So I can tell the world that this beautiful woman is all mine.

“He won’t be a problem,” she says, her sweet voice confusing me for a moment.

Oh, right. She’s talking about her father.

“He doesn’t want anything to do with her, just like me,” she continues as she glides about the terrace, stopping at the outdoor couch and fluffing the already-fluffed pillows. “Do you think it looks good out here?”

I go to her. “It looks beautiful.” Slipping my arms around her waist, I pull her into me, pressing my mouth to hers briefly. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Her cheeks turn the faintest pink and she gently shoves me away. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I only speak the truth.”

Her gaze snags on me and we stare at each other for a long, heavy moment, emotions swirling between us. “I feel like this is some sort of coming out.”

“For you? You never did go the debutante route.”

She slowly shakes her head. “I was a disaster waiting to explode. No way would my mother allow me to debut.”

Her expression is pained, and I know it’s because she mentioned her mother. I hate how that woman pops up in conversation all the time.

Sylvie has no clue, but I’ve had an extensive background check done on Sylvia Lancaster, and most of what I’ve discovered only makes me hate the woman even more. She’s a nightmare. No wonder Augustus had multiple affairs. Yes, he’s a philanderer, but he was only trying to escape Sylvia’s clutches.

It’s like everyone in her immediate family did exactly that. Whit defied her every chance he got. Carolina ran away at an early age. Only Sylvie stuck around, and I think that’s because she believed she had no other choice.

“The party starts in what…in thirty minutes?” I ask, whipping my phone out of my pants pocket. “Make that twenty.”

“Oh God.” She starts rushing around, her movements frantic. “I need to go talk to the caterers.”

She dashes into the apartment before I have a chance to say anything, headed for the kitchen. I follow after her, answering the door when I hear a knock, to find Whit and Summer standing in front of me, Summer wearing a pink dress similar to Sylvie’s.

“Is there a dress code?” I ask as they enter the apartment.

“She asked that we wear pink.” Summer points at her husband. “He didn’t follow orders.”

“I never do. Where’s the fun in that?” He undoes the button of his jacket, revealing his pristine white shirt beneath. “Where’s your suit?”

I’m in a polo shirt and jeans. “I was helping set up.”

Whit’s gaze is sharp. “You better change then.”

“And we’re wearing suits on a Saturday because why?” I shake my head, though I’m definitely going to indulge my woman. If she wants us clad in suits and the ladies in dresses, then that’s what she’ll get.

“Because it’s fun!” Summer calls after me as I head for the bedroom, and I can hear Whit mutter something rude.

By the time I’ve changed into the proper attire fit for a tea party/luncheon, more people have arrived. The terrace is full, and I spot Monty standing at the bar, wearing a pink velvet suit, that tall guy who was Sylvie’s date at Whit and Summer’s wedding standing beside him.

I head outside and straight for Monty and Cliff, nodding and smiling at people as I pass by them, noting how Sylvie is the queen holding court, sitting in a chair and clutching a delicate umbrella to ward off the warm sun.

“Spencer Donato, aren’t you a delight?”

I let my gaze wander along the length of Monty and all of that pink velvet. “And aren’t you a sight.”

He grabs his fresh drink from the bartender, curling his arm through Cliff’s. “Have you met my date?”

“Not properly.” I thrust my hand in Cliff’s direction. “Spencer Donato. Nice to meet you.”

“Cliff Von Worth.” He shakes my hand, Monty smirking throughout the entire interaction. “Our last run-in wasn’t…pleasant.”

“Do tell,” Monty encourages.

“I thought he was with Sylvie.” I release Cliff’s hand, embarrassed at admitting my assumption.

“That’s hilarious,” Monty deadpans. “Sylvie isn’t his type.”

“I know that now. Are you two an item?” I send them each a questioning look.

“Sort of,” Monty says at the same time that Cliff answers, “Yes.”

We chat for a few more minutes, the tension ratcheting between them until I excuse myself and allow them some privacy to have a lovers’ spat.

The drama never stops. Glad I’m not involved in it this time.

I stop and talk to Crew Lancaster and his fiancée Wren. He’s a few years younger than us, and one of the more decent Lancasters out there. His fiancée is beautiful. Dark hair and green eyes, she can’t stop sending adoring glances in Crew’s direction.

“My two favorites!” Sylvie exclaims, appearing by my side before she pulls them each into a hug. “Where’s your sister?”

“Out of the country with her husband,” Crew answers, slinging his arm around Wren’s shoulder. She too, is wearing a pretty pink dress, though hers isn’t a floral print. It’s a pink and white check with a deep V neckline.

“You know my boyfriend?” Sylvie leans against me, her smile so bright it’s almost blinding. “I had no idea you two were acquainted.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Crew’s brows shoot up. “Good to see you so happy, Sylvie.”

“Thank you,” she says her voice turning shy. “For once, right?”

Augustus Lancaster chooses that moment to arrive and it’s like his presence sucks all of the oxygen out of the air, drawing all of the attention toward him. Not necessarily a bad thing, as the man definitely knows how to command a room. He expects all eyes on him at all times.

Soon, there’s a crowd surrounding him, Sylvie standing right at his side, her gaze admiring as he tells a tall tale. Carolina is on his other side, seemingly bored. I stand off to the side with Whit and Crew, the three of us watching the women flutter around Augustus, a sneer on both Whit and Crew’s faces.

“Annoyed?” I ask my best friend.

Whit lets forth an aggravated sigh. “He always does this. He revels in female attention.”

“Every Lancaster seems to,” Crew adds.

“True,” Whit agrees. “Even my sisters are into it. Well, Carolina looks like she wants to take a nap.”

“I only like one female in particular,” Crew says, his gaze zeroing in on Wren, his lips parting.

Do I look like that when I’m staring at Sylvie? Like a love-starved fool?

God, I hope not.

I probably do though. I feel that way when I catch myself staring at her for too long. Like she’s the only thing that matters to me—and she is. She’s a distraction, one I didn’t think was worth the heartache at one point, but now I can admit…

I don’t know how I’ll live without her if she ever chooses to leave me. Because trust that I’m going nowhere. That woman is a part of me, and I can’t give up on her. Not now. Not ever.

After Augustus has regaled everyone with one entertaining story after another, it’s time to eat. We all settle in at the extra-long table, me sitting to the right of Sylvie, Whit directly across from me. The lunch is delicious and the alcohol is flowing. My gaze keeps finding Sylvie, entranced by how happy she seems as she laughs about something with Carolina. My girl is completely in her element, laughing and talking nonstop.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so…alive. So beautiful and sparkling and effervescent. She was close to this when I went after her in California. When she was alone and finding herself. Coming into herself.

Her gaze catches mine at one point and she leans in, her voice low when she murmurs, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect,” I answer without hesitation, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “I think your tea party is a raging success.”

She looks pleased as she slowly pulls away. “Thank you. I think everyone is having a nice time.”

“And you’re beautiful.” I kiss her again because I can, right on the lips, and her cheeks flush with pleasure.

“Thank you for letting me have the party here,” she murmurs.

“I will give you whatever you want.” I touch her cheek, streaking my fingers across her soft skin.” All you have to do is ask.”

Sylvie stares at me, the party happening all around us. Conversations and laughter and carrying on, but we’re lost in our own little world for a moment, studying each other. I don’t let my gaze stray because I want her to know how serious I am. I mean what I say.

I will give her whatever she wants, whenever she wants it.

“Spencer,” she whispers, swallowing hard, “I lo—”

“Well, well, would you look at this!” a familiar voice screeches from the door that opens out onto the terrace.

We both turn to find Sylvia Lancaster standing there, clad in a bright pink suit, her gaze zeroed in on Sylvie and sparking with barely contained fury.

Dread and anger fill me and I rise to my feet, my hands clutched into fists at my sides.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice deadly calm.

Sylvia barely pays any attention to me. “Coming to see my family. I think I have every right to be here.”

“Now the party has really started,” I hear Monty say drolly, and I glance over my shoulder, sending him a ferocious glare.

He blinks, leaning back in his chair, his lips snapping shut.

If he invited Sylvia, there will be hell to pay.

I guarantee it.