He got into his car and slammed the door shut behind him. Poor Libby. She must be devastated that her father wasn't coming along tonight.
Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he finally let memories of Libby wash over him. He pictured her face so clearly she could have been standing in front of him-her sharp hazel eyes, that sweet smile, and her mane of coin-colored hair.
Des was right about one thing: Paul had been happy when she was in his life.
Since the wedding there'd been a great big hole in his life, a joy-sucking void that made him miserable. He'd thrown himself into planning for the mixology school, but even that hadn't satisfied him the way it should. Family dinners had been missed, phone calls ignored. He only left the house to work at First and even then he had to drag himself there.
The solution was painfully clear. He wanted Libby in his life. He missed her with a soul-aching sadness so deep and dark it stole his slumber night after night. He missed her smile, her laugh, the way she lifted him up. Made him better.
And he couldn't ignore it, the past month had taught him that much.
He loved her. He never wanted to, never hoped to … but he did.
If anyone was throwing anything down the drain it wasn't Libby and her career, it was him. Letting fear and stupidity rule his actions. No more. She was worth the risk. Undoubtedly.
All he had to do now was hope that she'd forgive him.
As he started up his car and pulled out into the busy South Melbourne traffic, a plan began coming together in his mind.
Chapter Seventeen
Libby's hand trembled as she put her hand on the door to First. In less than an hour the room would be filled with local media, bloggers, business owners, and friends all in attendance to celebrate the official launch of her business.
Inside the restaurant was a flurry of activity. Pink and green paper lanterns had been strung from the ceiling along with strands of fairy lights, giving the room the garden party vibe she'd wanted. Fresh flowers dotted the high standing tables that had replaced the regular furniture and the waiters wore green and pink checkered shirts.
Smoothing her hands down the front of her fuchsia dress, she sucked in a breath. Everything was in its place, the room was exactly as she wanted it … but something was missing.
A tiny part of her had hoped that Paul would be here. Even if there was no hope of them being together, knowing she had his support would have meant something. But he was nowhere to be seen.
Des stood behind the bar in his usual black T-shirt, directing the staff on how to set up the visual merchandising. Noah carried boxes back and forth, unpacking the last of the promotional goodies.
"Are you excited?" Nina asked, walking up to her after dispensing the artwork to one of Des's staff members.
"I'm excited to see you wearing that outfit." Libby laughed, pushing away the hollow feeling in her chest. Tonight was a special night, and she wouldn't let stupid things like emotions ruin it for her.
"Anything for you." Nina shook her head. "I don't know how you wear pink. I feel like a fucking cupcake."
"And you look just as delicious," Libby teased.
Her eyes continued to scan the room. Apparently her heart was not yet ready to give up on the idea that he might show.
"He's not here." Des put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He left about twenty minutes ago."
"Oh." A lump lodged in Libby's throat. At least she had her answer. Now she could move on and throw all her energy back into her business. "His loss, I guess."
"Couldn't agree more."
Guests filtered into the room. Libby recognized a columnist from Gastronomy magazine as well as a popular lifestyle and fashion blogger. Her heart jackhammered in her chest.
She kept herself busy as she fussed over the displays. The cocktails that had been designed for the event-Paul's handiwork, she suspected, though Des would not confirm-sat in pretty rows along the bar.
"These look fantastic," she said, peering at a set of martini glasses that had been dusted with super-fine sugar crystals and decorated with sprigs of fresh lavender.
"The lavender martini should be a hit. We've put it on the specials board this week, and it's doing really well." He grinned, his newly tanned skin making his smile appear even brighter. "We're going to do good business together."
"Thank you for everything." She looked up at him. "After what I did you should have turned me out."
"You wouldn't have needed to go to such lengths if I'd seen the potential from the start. I appreciate you both coming clean, though." His dark eyes reminded her so much of Paul that she had to turn away.
"You deserved that much at least."
"And you deserve everything, too, Libby. Don't ever forget that." He turned her around to face the room.
The crowd had swelled, and the waiters had begun distributing trays of food matched to the first cocktail on circulation. All cocktails had been served in smaller glasses to allow people to taste multiple drinks. Miniature pink Bellinis made their way around, and people drank, smiling and talking among themselves.
"You'd better mingle," Des said. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of questions for you."
"You're right." Libby grabbed a mini Bellini for herself and made her way to a group of very fashionable-looking young women whom she suspected were from a bridal magazine she'd contacted.
"Go get 'em!" Des called out after her.
By the time Paul had made it to his destination, Libby's party had already started. He'd be late.
Better late than never, right?
He leaned against the car, staring up at the two-story town house in South Yarra that Libby had grown up in. The white building contrasted sharply to the ornate black fretwork lining the balcony and the black trim on the huge bay windows on each floor.
The lawn looked as though it had never seen a harsh summer, the plants gleaming vibrant green in the faded early evening light. It was perfect. Pristine. Expensive. Not a blade of grass out of place.
Kirk Harris was home. Paul had gotten ahold of his secretary to confirm it, though getting the address wasn't as easy. He'd charmed the woman into believing he had a delivery for the current Mrs. Harris that would put Mr. Harris in a vulnerable position should it not be delivered.
Feigning an incorrect delivery address, Paul had wheedled his way into the street name, and he already knew what car the man drove. Bentleys were more common in South Yarra than in other suburbs, but not that common.
Now all he had to do was work up the courage to knock on the door.
He wasn't thrilled about facing Libby's father again … not after their last encounter. But it had to be done if he was going to marry her. The thought washed him with a deep calm.
Libby would want her father there tonight. Why else would she have called him repeatedly to invite him? Deep down he knew there was a chance the plan could backfire horribly. But the risk would be worth it.
He walked up the path and knocked on the door before his resolve escaped him. A moment later Kirk answered the door himself.
"Yes?" he asked, taking a moment to register Paul's identity. "What the hell do you want?"
"I was hoping I could have a minute of your time, Dr. Harris."
The older man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. "So I'm Dr. Harris now. There's a change."
"I know we didn't exactly get started in the best way-"
"No, you threatened me and kicked me out of my own property. I'd say that's a very poor impression to leave on the father of your girlfriend."
"I know. But I can't apologize for that. You were treating Libby unfairly, and I had to stick up for her." He hoped the gamble of his honesty would pay off.
Kirk Harris might be a lot of things, but he didn't appear to be stupid. Insincerity would be a red flag. Paul was better off showing his cards and hoping he respected him for that.
"Then why are you here if not to apologize?"
"I have a favor to ask."
Silence. Hazel eyes-Libby's eyes-regarded him without giving anything away, as Kirk leaned against the doorframe. He hadn't told Paul to get lost, so that had to count for something.
"You're starting with a low bargaining position," Kirk warned.
"It's not a favor for me … it's for Libby."
"Ah. She gets you to do her dirty work, does she? Her mother was like that."
Paul bit back the urge to retort, instead jamming his hands into his pockets to keep himself from punching Kirk. "She doesn't know I'm here. But she has an important event tonight. It's the launch of her business. She wants you to be there."
"I already told that PR boy of hers I'm not interested. When my daughter comes back to doing what she should be doing, then I'll attend anything she likes."
"Right." Paul nodded. "So it's conditional then."
"What is?"