Danielle Steel - Rogue

And when the dance ended, she went back to Charles and they left.

The wedding was at noon the next day. But everyone agreed that the rehearsal dinner would be hard to top. She and Charles talked about it on the way to his hotel, which he had complained about. It seemed like a foolish tradition to him. He would have preferred to stay at the house, but Maxine had insisted. Charles kissed her goodnight, which reminded her of why she was marrying him. She loved him, in spite of his being what Daphne called a “stuffed shirt.” They were flying to Paris the following night, and they were going to take a driving trip through the valley of the Loire. It sounded like the perfect honeymoon to her.

“I'm going to miss you tonight,” he said huskily, and she kissed him again.

“I'll miss you too,” she whispered, giggling. She had had a reasonable amount of champagne at the party, but she wasn't drunk, and was sure that she was sober. “The next time I see you, about ten minutes after that, I'll be Mrs. West,” she said, beaming at him. It had been a beautiful evening.

“I can't wait,” he said, kissed her for a last time, and he reluctantly got out of the car, waved, walked into the hotel, and she drove away.

When she got home, she walked into the living room and poured herself another glass of champagne. A few minutes later, she heard Blake's car drive in with Zellie and the children. Zellie had left Jimmy at the house with a sitter, who left as soon as they returned, and Zelda urged all the children upstairs to bed. They were exhausted and disappeared with mumbled goodnights to their parents, who were sitting on the couch, talking.

Blake was in good spirits, and Maxine seemed a little tipsy to him, more so than she had at the party. She had been sober then, but was less so now, after two more glasses of champagne. He helped himself to a glass of champagne too. They were having fun talking about the evening. Blake had had a lot to drink that night but was still sober. And he looked like a movie star in his white dinner jacket. They both did, as they toasted each other with the champagne.

“That was a gorgeous party,” she said, twirling around the living room in her gold dress, and she twirled herself right into his arms. “You give such good parties. It was very glamorous, don't you think?”

“I think you'd better sit down before you fall down, you lush,” he teased her.

“I am not drunk,” she insisted, which was a clear sign that she was. He had always liked Maxine when she was a little drunk. She was so funny and so sexy, and it happened so seldom, but this was a special night. “Do you think I'll be happy with Charles?” she asked him with a serious expression. Suddenly, she had to work harder than usual to focus on him.

“I hope so, Max,” Blake said sincerely. He could have said otherwise, but he didn't.

“He's so grown up, isn't he? Kind of like my father,” she said, crossing her eyes a little as she looked at Blake, but she still looked prettier than ever, and he had to remind himself not to take advantage of the situation. That wouldn't have been fair. He wouldn't have done anything to harm her, and certainly not tonight. He had missed the boat, and he knew it. He switched from champagne to vodka, and poured her the last of the champagne she'd had in the house.

“Yes, he is kind of like your father,” Blake replied. “They're both doctors.” He was starting to feel pleasantly drunk too, and he didn't mind it a bit. If he was ever going to get drunk, tonight was it.

“I'm a doctor too,” she informed him with a loud hiccup. “A shrink. I do trauma. Didn't I meet you recently in Morocco?” She laughed uproariously at her own question, and he did too.

“You look different in combat boots. I think I like you better in heels.” She held up a shapely leg and looked at her delicate gold sandals and nodded agreement.

“Me too. The boots gave me blisters.”

“Wear heels next time,” he advised her, sipping his vodka.

“I will. I promise. You know,” she said, sipping the champagne, “we have really nice children. I love them very much.”

“I do too.”

“I don't think Charles likes them,” she said, frowning.

“They don't like him either,” Blake said, and they both laughed hard at that too. And then Maxine squinted at him as though from a great distance.

“Why did we get divorced anyway? Do you remember? I don't. Did you do something bad to me?” She was definitely drunk by then, and so was Blake.

“I forgot to come home.” He smiled sadly.

“Oh, that was it. Now I remember. That's too bad. I really like you… actually, I love you,” she said, smiling benignly at him, and hiccuped again.

“I love you too,” Blake said gently, and then his conscience got the better of him. “Maybe you should go to bed, Max. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow at your wedding.” Champagne was always a killer the next day.

“Are you asking me to go to bed with you?” she asked, looking a little startled.

“No, I'm not. If I did, Charles would be really pissed tomorrow, and you'd feel really guilty. But I think you should go to bed.” She finished the last of her champagne as she said it, and by then he could see she was really drunk. The final glass had made the difference, and he was feeling very drunk too. The vodka did him in after a long night of drinking, or maybe it was seeing her that way, in her gold dress. She was intoxicating. She always had been for him. He suddenly remembered, and wondered how he could have forgotten.

“Why do I have to go to bed so early?” she pouted at him.

“Because, Cinderella,” he said gently, scooping her up in his arms, and lifting her off the couch, “you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you don't. And you're going to marry the handsome prince tomorrow.” He started walking her to her bedroom.

“No, I'm not. I'm marrying Charles. I remember that. He's not the handsome prince. You are. Why am I marrying him?” She looked suddenly annoyed, and Blake laughed as he staggered and nearly dropped her, and then got a better grip. She was light as a feather.

“I think you're marrying him because you love him,” he said as he walked into her bedroom, and put her gently on the bed, and then stood looking at her, weaving slightly. They were both as drunk as skunks.

“Oh, that's nice,” Maxine said pleasantly. “I love him. And I really should marry him. He's a doctor.” And then she looked at Blake. “I think you're too drunk to go home. And I'm too drunk to drive you.” It was a fairly accurate assessment of the situation. “You'd better stay here.” As she said it, the room was reeling around him.

“I'll just lie down for a minute and sober up, if that's okay with you. And then I'll drive home. You don't mind, do you?” he asked, as he lay down next to her in his dinner jacket and his shoes.

“I don't mind at all,” she said, as she turned toward him, and put her head on his shoulder. She was still wearing the gold dress and the gold shoes. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“That's the name of our boat,” Blake said, with his eyes closed, and passed out cold.

The phone rang interminably in Maxine's house the next morning. It was ten o'clock, and it rang and rang and no one answered. Everyone was still sleeping. Sam finally heard it, and got out of bed to go answer it. There wasn't a sound in the house.

“Hello?” Sam said, still wearing his pajamas, as he yawned. They had all been up late, and he was tired. He didn't know where anyone else was, except he knew Daphne had had too much champagne the night before, but he had promised not to tell when she threw up when they got home.

“Hi, Sam.” It was Charles. He sounded wide awake. “Can I talk to your mom, please? I just want to say hello. I know she must be very busy before the wedding.” She had told him that she had someone coming to do her hair and makeup. And he was sure the house was a zoo. “Can you go get her? I'll only take a minute.” Sam put down the phone, and padded in his bare feet to her bedroom. He looked through the open door, and saw both his parents sound asleep with their clothes on. His father was snoring. He didn't want to wake them up, so he went back to the phone and picked up the receiver.

“They're still sleeping,” he announced firmly.

“They?” Charles knew it couldn't be Sam, since he was talking to him. So who was she sleeping with at this hour, on their wedding day? It made no sense to him.

“My dad's in there too. He's snoring,” Sam explained. “I'll tell her you called when she wakes up.” The phone clicked in Sam's ear before he hung up, and he went back upstairs to his room. Since no one else was awake, he didn't see why he had to get ready yet. He turned on the TV, and for once, he couldn't even hear Zellie's baby. It sounded like everyone was dead.

The hairdresser and makeup artist arrived promptly at ten-thirty. Zelda let them in, realized what time it was, and went to wake Maxine up. Zelda was surprised to see Blake sleeping beside her. But she could figure out what had happened. They both had their clothes on. They must have gotten drunk off their asses the night before. She poked Max gently on the shoulder, and after half a dozen attempts, she finally stirred, and looked up at Zelda with a moan. She closed her eyes immediately and clutched her head with both hands. Blake was still sound asleep beside her, and was snoring like a bulldog.

“Oh my God,” Maxine said, squeezing her eyes closed against the light. “Oh my God…I have a brain tumor and I'm dying.”

“I think it could be the champagne,” Zelda said quietly, trying not to laugh at her.

“Stop shouting!” Maxine said, with her eyes closed.