Sometimes Moments (4 page)

He’s gone, Peyton. He left. You need to remember that.

“I really don’t want ‘work’ in my pub, Peyton.”

She set down the guest list for the Reynolds’ wedding to see a beer placed on her table. Three hours of going over the wedding plan and she’d been done. She knew one thing: weddings like this one were going to be charged more for such outrageous requirements. Deciding to take a break, Peyton had gone for a walk to go over the list in a new environment. That’s how she found herself sitting at a table in the Daylesford Pub. Squinting her eyes, she stared at the dark-coloured beer in front of her.

“Jay, you know I hate beer,” she stated and eyed him, his hand behind his back.

He stroked his short beard before setting another glass on the table. “Yeah, I know. The beer’s for me. The Coke’s for you. Don’t know why you come here if you hate beer. You offend and break my heart every time you walk through my door, Peyton.”

Jay sat in the seat next to her, and she reached over for her glass, taking a long sip. The twinkle in his warm, chocolate eyes had her rolling hers. It wasn’t that Jay was unattractive—it was the opposite. Any young female who stayed in Daylesford wanted in his bed. But he wasn’t the type to use women. He was the settle down type.

Jay was just like Peyton and Graham. He had stayed behind because his family owned the local pub. But, unlike them, Jay liked what he did. Ever since he had graduated from high school two years ahead of Peyton, he had strived to fulfil his role as pub owner.

Putting the glass down, Peyton returned to the Reynolds’ wedding list. When one had money, one lavished. And bride-to-be Marissa Reynolds had money—her parents’ money, to be exact.

“Ugh, she really chose our town to be the place for her wedding?” Jay asked with much disgust. He sat back in his chair and reached for his beer, almost drinking the entire glass in one pull.

Peyton’s eyebrows furrowed, and she tapped her finger on the table. “Don’t like Marissa?”

Jay’s lips parted and his brows met, bewildered by her question. “You do?”

“I’ve never met her or her fiancé. Aunt Brenda took the booking a few months ago while I was studying for exams. Should I be worried? Is she a bridezilla?”

She didn’t need an uncooperative bride. Peyton knew the importance of the day, but from past experience, the most challenging brides were the ones where money had absolutely no limits.

“She wanted to tear down my pub because it wasn’t an ideal backdrop for her wedding pictures. I bloody love the woman! What’s she got you doing? Putting fancy Japanese fish in the lake?” Jay set his now empty glass on the table and folded his arms over his chest.

“Just the guest list is substantial. I don’t think that I have the staff to cater for so many people. It’s meant to be a private wedding, but she’s got half of the Collingwood football team coming.” Peyton sighed and returned the papers back in the folder and then her folder in her bag.

“Be careful of them, Peyton. I see you near any of them footy boys and I won’t make any promises of not breaking their legs.”

Jay’s tense body had Peyton rolling her eyes.

“Don’t go all protective over me, Jay,” she said as she got out of her chair and picked up her bag. Her break from the hotel was already long stretched. She needed to return.

She looked down and met Jay’s concerned face.

He stared at her for a moment before he closed his eyes and sighed. “Someone has to be, Peyton.”

Before she was able to ask him what he meant, Peyton felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. When she pulled it out, she saw a new text message.

Marissa Reynolds
: Peyton, since you are now dealing with the wedding and my fiancé doesn’t think your hotel is suitable, I will be sending him down tomorrow to have a look over it.

Peyton glared at the message and let her shoulders sag. “Bridezilla’s fiancé is coming tomorrow. I better get back and make sure the hotel’s of ‘suitable’ manner for their wedding. I’ll see you, Jay.”

Marissa Reynolds
: Expect my fiancé at around one.

Peyton placed her phone back on the desk and her chin in the palm of her hand. The hotel was quiet—too quiet for her liking. She wished her aunt hadn’t sent all the staff on holidays; it would have been nice to spend her days with someone to talk to. A day alone in the hotel and she realised that there wasn’t anything physical or structural that she wanted to change about The Spencer-Dayle. Last night, she’d decided that it was the services the hotel provided that she could make her own. She just needed to figure out what those services could be.

Picking up the Reynolds’ file, Peyton read over the wedding plan for the fourth time today. She’d spent last night analysing it. Making sure that she made notes on potential issues the fiancé would have, and highlighting any problems she had so they could discuss them together. This wedding would provide enough income to last through the year without any other booking. It was
the
big one.

The sound of the bell rang, alerted Peyton to someone’s presence in the hotel. She looked over at the gold clock to see that it had only just ticked 12:21 p.m. She heard footsteps and then it went quiet for a moment before she heard a muffled voice. Upon getting up from the worn, leather desk chair, Peyton walked towards her office door and adjusted her high-waist skirt. With a deep breath, she palmed the handle and opened the door.

Peyton stepped out of her office and closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry, but The Spencer-Dayle is closed due to owner chan—”

She stopped when she looked over at the person standing by the front desk. She felt all breath leave her and her mouth fell open. Her eyes were wide in surprise as she took him in. He stood there with a careful smile on his face and his hands in his dress pants pockets.

“Hello, Peyton,” he said.

Blinking didn’t take away the image of him standing before her. Not possible. He couldn’t.

She stayed quiet as his posture tensed. He used to be so carefree. But now, he was dressed up like he was about to seal a merger with a careful, practised smile on his face. No sincerity to it, there for the sake of it. Glances were exchanged, but Peyton refused to speak, purely due to the fact that words were failing her.

His eyes ran down her body before he looked away and took in the hotel. It was different from how he would have remembered it. Just before her parents’ deaths, they had renovated The Spencer-Dayle, adding the old with the new, balancing it out until it was perfect. Little things had stayed, but most things had changed. Peyton followed his line of gaze until it stopped at a photo of the lake. A photo he had taken. For a moment, she watched a regretful smile develop until he shook his head and looked back at her. His smile faded just as quickly as she had blinked.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

This time, he sounded like he meant it—which was a ridiculous concept for her to believe. He’d left. Not her. He could have come back but he hadn’t.

Peyton let out laugh of disbelief and shook her head, fighting the pain and heat that rose from her heart and up her throat. It was a pressure in her chest that she hadn’t felt in years. His eyebrows met and he looked offended by her reaction to him.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but if I were you, I’d leave. Right now,” Peyton warned before spinning on her heel and stalking back to her office door.

“Come on, Peyton. I’m early. I guess
Marissa
didn’t tell you that I’d be coming.”

Peyton stopped.

Marissa… The wedding…

The constricting pain of her heart, what it felt like, was something she had long forgotten. Her eyes prickled and she mentally cursed herself. Taking a deep breath in, she opened her office door. Once she’d closed it behind her, she leant against the door to stabilise her legs. Uncomfortable heat spread through her body. Emotions she hadn’t felt since before she’d turned eighteen. Since the moment she’d found out he was leaving.

Peyton let Marissa’s text message play through her mind.

Engaged.

For a moment, she was jealous. Marriage was a concept she could only be a stranger to. She watched weddings, but the thought of her own was something she couldn’t conjure. He was engaged, and that was her out. A line had now been drawn.

Peyton let that thought run loops around her head. This was her closure. He’d gotten what he’d wanted out of city life. Though her heart had always wanted a way back to him, it was her head that had told her to let go and move on. It had been easy to forget the pain of him when her parents had died. That pain had been worse. It had taken the life out of her. Only Graham and her aunt and uncle had brought her back to a world of living.

You’re acting unprofessional, Peyton. He means nothing in your life now.

With a firm nod, Peyton retrieved the file from her desk. She hadn’t connected the dots that it would be
his
wedding. But, then again, she only had Marissa Reynolds’ approved guest list, not the fiancé’s.

Peyton turned and walked to the door. She drew in another breath to calm her nerves and reminded herself that he was just a guest.

When she opened the door, she stepped out of her office to find him standing in front of the photograph of the lake. His eyes held a sad glance as he stared at it intently. It had been taken at the small hill just before the lake; the sky was purple and red and the water had sparkled. The memory of watching him take the photograph would always be burned in her memory. It was in that moment, when he’d been unaware that she was staring at him, that she had known she was in love with him.

She pushed that one good memory of them away and cleared her throat. The sad look remained in Callum’s eyes, but she ignored the way it pulled her in. The way he had always done so.

“Mr Reid, if you would like to accompany me around the hotel, I can show you how Marissa has planned out the wedding.” Peyton gestured to the door and held the file tight.

“Mr Reid? Is that how we are doing this?” he asked raising a brow at her.

The sad eyes were gone. Instead, they looked fascinated by her. She’d have to make sure that twinkle was extinguished. That same twinkle had been persuasive in her losing her virginity to him.

“Yes.”

“Well, then. If you wish, Miss Spencer.”

His voice had a warmth to it, and she didn’t like the way her name on his lips made her heart jump.

Settle down, you stupid vital organ. Remember, he broke you! Shattered you to the point where you thought you might as well be dead. Better not let me down.