Til Death

6. Blake

BLAKE

"On the stupid scale, where do I rank?" Blake asked Adrian, raising his arms out. "From one to ten, I'm like an eleven, right?" He waved his arms and legs, wagging the extra fabric of his clothes, hanging off his limbs. He'd take the blazer off, if it weren't for the sweat stain pooled underneath his armpits.

Blake Winslow was freaking out.

More than a little bit.Maybe he was crazy, but to him, breakfast was five minutes ago. In truth, hours had gone by, but he still felt like he teleported to this spot in the castle. An opulent sitting room with ornamental trim and a mural of flowers painting on the ceiling. The lounges and seats were emerald green and all the trimmings were golden among the hunks of vintage furniture, which was not limited to a grandfather clock, an easel and even an empty bird cage.

Blake stood in front of an ornate floor length mirror and tried practicing his lines, but he didn't know how to avoid blushing like this or how to stop sweating. He could hardly keep his voice steady.

"Josephine will back soon with a change of clothes," Adrian reminded Blake for the hundredth time. Somehow, Blake grabbed Damien's suit when he packed yesterday morning, which fit like he was seven and threw on his father's suit to play pretend.

Well, it was better than being naked.

That would really turn this day into more of a nightmare.

"I'm having a stroke," Blake said and then, took a gulp of his mimosa left over from breakfast. To fill time, Blake just ordered more drinks. This didn't conjure Danny, however.

He checked his phone while Adrian shook his head and answered a knock on the door. There were no messages. Blake cursed and opened his phone just to make sure. Still nothing. His chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe.

Danny missed breakfast, so they pushed it to a brunch.

He missed that too.

The heat in Blake's face trickled to his neck and he finally gave up and threw his blazer over the fancy couch and decorative gold and white pillows. Bouquets of flowers crowded the room and made it twice as small. They congratulated Blake and Daniel on their engagement. It was announced this morning, in preparation of the press conference that started...

Blake checked his watch.

Thirty minutes ago.

The truly eager businesses in town thought fast and sent engagement presents, hoping to become a part of the future celebration. A horrible thought dawned on Blake that he'd actually have to plan a wedding and soon. Groaning, Blake fell face first into one of the loungers, letting his script flutter to the floor. He let all his frustrations rattled out of throat, but somehow didn't feel even a little better.

He checked his phone.

Nothing.

"Danny," Blake whispered and watched another minute fly by. "Where are you?"

Adrian walked up to the back of the chair, making Blake perk up. His sullen face fell lower. "I'm sorry to say sir, but it seems the press is getting restless."

"What does that mean?" Blake asked, but he already knew the answer. His stomach formed unfixable knots as he gripped the nearest pillow for dear life. It was the saddest excuse for a shield. "I can't go out there alone."

"Blake!" Daniel's mother, Adele flew into the room, wearing a flowy satin dress with long sleeves. The fabric drifted as she moved as if she were weightless. "I'm terribly sorry about this! Usually, Daniel is more punctual for press events. I'm so embarrassed."