She gave him a scary smile. “You’re right, darling, I’m sorry.”
“I should say so.” Nigel dusted his shoulder. “Don’t know what all the fuss is about.”
“All the old jealousies are in the past,” she practically cooed.
Nigel smiled. “Quite right.”
“So if you invite Rebecca, I should invite Miguel. He and I are still on the best of terms. How very modern of you, darling.”
“What did you say?” The smile turned to a scowl in the blink of an eye. “You will do absolutely no such thing. I forbid it.”
“Oh no, we’re in for it now,” Frances whispered in Allie’s ear.
Allie turned back and looked at the maid. “What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Mags just brought up Miguel. That’s like waving a red flag at a bull, it is.”
“You forbid me?”
Allie turned back in time to see Mags lift her chin to the ceiling. “You don’t own me, Nigel Blake. I’ll do whatever I please.”
He strode across the room and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You will not mention that man’s name in my presence, Margaret, do you understand?”
She broke free of his hold. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel.”
“You are living very dangerously, woman.” Nigel’s face turned purple. Allie was afraid he might stroke out.
“And while I’m at it, I may invite Francois. He asked me to move back to France just last month, you know.”
“Fine,” Nigel ground out, “then I’ll ask Tanya. She got her boobs redone. She’d love to show them off at a wedding.”
One of Mags’s eyes narrowed, making her look slightly cockeyed. She strolled across the room, picked up a bottle of gin, and threw it at him. “You are disgusting.” The bottle hit the wall. The strong-smelling liquor made a stain on the pale blue paint, and glass tinkled to the floor.
“That was a new bottle.”
“Well, this one’s not.” She chucked whiskey at his head. She wasn’t even in the ballpark.
“You’re aim isn’t what it used to be, dear,” he said in a bored voice.
“I guess I’m out of practice.” She picked up a white vase with hand-painted flowers and held it over her head with both hands.
Allie felt hands on her hips and was lifted to one side. Trevor took two steps into the room and grabbed the vase from Mags’s hands before she could hurl it at Nigel. “If you’re going to give him a concussion, I must insist you destroy your own property to do so.”
Mags’s lips thinned in a straight line. “Your father wants to invite his second wife to my wedding. What do you think about that, Trevor?” Her eyes never left Nigel and his red face.
“I don’t care whom you invite. I don’t care if you get married at all. But if you break one more thing in this house, I’ll toss you both out on your asses.” He turned and left the room.
Allie gave Nigel and Mags one last look before trailing after him. “Trevor.”
He stopped and glared at her. “What do you want?”
She flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
He rubbed his forehead. “Apologies, Allison, I didn’t mean to snap at you. Those two drive me barmy.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “What can I do for you?”
For some reason, his formal question hurt more than his harsh words. She shook her head. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Bitterness tinged his laughter. “I’m brilliant.” He pivoted and went back toward his office.
Allie stood in the hallway, feeling bereft. She loved him so much, she ached with it. She knew he was going to cut her loose. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to survive.
As she lingered in the hallway, Mags pushed by her with a sob.
***
That night, dinner was painful and the arctic atmosphere made Allie shiver. No one said much of anything. Trevor was withdrawn and quiet. Mags and Nigel were frigidly polite to one another.
After dinner, Trevor retreated to his office. Allie knew he didn’t want to be disturbed, so she hit the media room, curling up on the couch beneath the cashmere blanket, and watched TV for a few hours. As she sat, her mind drifted. What would it have been like to hear her parents fight like that? Trevor must have been a confused little boy, new people entering his life and leaving it just as quickly.
Finally, exhausted at nine-thirty, she hit the power button on the controller. But instead of going to her own room, she went to Trevor’s. The angels stood guard as she shimmied out of all her clothes and curled up under the sheets. She pulled Trevor’s pillow close, inhaling his scent. Despite the pain of his callous treatment earlier, she wanted to comfort him, soothe him. She knew he was hurting. The little boy in him never got over his parents’ abandonment or their manic relationship.
She woke when the bed dipped and felt Trevor try to gently pry the pillow out of her hands. She rubbed at her eyes and looked at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s after midnight. Have you been working all this time?”
He plumped the pillow and crawled into bed, curling himself around her. “Yes. And I’m sorry I was abrupt earlier.”
“It’s okay.” She stroked the arm wrapped around her waist. “They still love each other, you know, even when they fight.”
“Shhh,” he said against her hair. “Go back to sleep.”
“Trevor?” She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say, maybe she just wanted reassurance for herself.
“Go to sleep, Allie.”
She stroked his arm until she felt him breathe deep and rhythmically next to her. She was wide awake now. Her mother always fed her hot milk with vanilla and cinnamon when she couldn’t sleep.
Allie crawled out from under Trevor’s embrace and scooted to the edge of the bed. She looked back to make sure she hadn’t awakened him, but when she saw he still slept, she quickly redressed and slipped quietly from the room.
She made her way to the kitchen and discovered Mags sitting at the granite counter, toying with a mugful of something. Her eyes were sad. She looked older and a little haggard.
“Hello, dearest. You couldn’t sleep either?”
Allie rubbed her arms and shook her head. “No, I thought I’d make myself some warm milk. You?” She grabbed a sauce pan from the rack above the island and crossed the room to the fridge.
“Hot tea with whiskey.” Mags took a whiff of her cup then sipped at it.
“Do you know where the cinnamon is?” Allie opened the small cabinet next to the range. “Found it.”
“Allison, I’m sorry you witnessed Nigel and me arguing this morning.”
Allie shrugged and poured milk into the copper-bottom pan. She added a cinnamon stick and decided to forget about hunting down the vanilla. “Frankly, Mags, it upsets me that Trevor saw that growing up.”
Mags winced. “Yes. We’ve been dreadful parents. And now that the wedding’s off, I suppose I’ll leave. Probably head back to England with Pix and Paolo.” She peered into her tea cup.
“What do you mean the wedding’s off? Because of one fight? What about Nigel being the one that got away?”
“Yes, I thought so too.” She gave Allie a wistful smile.
“So, that’s it?” Allie felt an irrational anger rise to the surface. “You’re not even going to fight to stay together?”
“There’s been entirely too much fighting, Allie.” She sighed. “You don’t understand, darling. Pix was right. Nigel and I would never work.”
Allie breathed out a laugh. “Trevor had you pegged from the start. The two of you are complete fuckups. Do you know how hard my mom fought for her life so that she could stay with us? Do you have any idea how painful it was to watch her die a little bit every day? You have a second chance at happiness, a second chance to show Trevor that you’re not a flake.”
Mags looked stricken. “Allison.”
“He’d have been better off if you hadn’t come back. But you guys had to turn the knife one more time. You couldn’t just leave him alone.” She grabbed the pan and poured the milk down the sink and tossed the pan in too.