Chapter Text
“The way you look tonight…”
Robert Gold groaned as he poured some of Ella’s gin into his tea with a liberal hand. Normally he wouldn’t have done so during their weekly singing lessons, but he thought, given the circumstances, he could give himself a pass. He knew Ella certainly would if she weren’t too busy destroying Frank Sinatra in his mind, complete with off-key plinking on the piano.
If it weren’t a ridiculously romantic gesture and he wasn’t her best friend, he might not have agreed to teach her at all.
“Darling, I do hope you’re not knocking back too much of my gin. Ursa’s going to need it, listening to my attempt to serenade her at our wedding!” Ella called, slamming down on the piano keys for emphasis. His head ached in protest, and he leaned against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stem the pain.
Ella, apparently satisfied, went back to plinking the keys and warbling off-key, and Gold took the opportunity to pull out his phone. He went scrolling back to the text that he had been staring at over and over for the past four days, in between bouts of drunkenness and some very unmanly sobbing.
Milah had broken his damn heart, and still, if she gave him the chance, he would go crawling back to her in a heartbeat. He even thought, maybe, if he looked at the text one more time, it would change, she would just tell him to postpone the wedding, she just had the jitters and needed a little more time…
“Darling, if you’re looking at that text again, I beg you to stop. It’s getting a little pathetic, honestly.” Ella called over her ‘playing’ on the piano keys, and Gold rolled his eyes.
His eyes were pulled back to his phone, hoping that she might have sent him another text, telling him she changed her mind. But as Ella said something else, the words still didn’t change - I’m sorry, I don’t love you anymore. I might have loved you once, but you’re just a wedding singer. I need more than that.
As he read, Gold vaguely registered a frustrated grunt, and then the click of heels on hardwood. Somehow, he was still surprised when Ella snatched the phone out of his hands, dangling it teasingly above her head when he tried to take it back. “You won’t get it back from me, short stuff, so you may as well let me have it for now.”
He slumped with defeat, muttering, “You take way too much enjoyment out of mocking my height.”
She ignore that comment, scolding, “I am saying this with nothing but love, but you need to get a grip on yourself. You are the best wedding singer in New England, and if that’s not good enough for her, then there’s obviously something wrong in her head. I mean, not that I didn’t think that anyway, her wardrobe is abysmal.”
“Of course you would think that.” Gold said as he sunk into a chair, taking a long draw from his now-lukewarm tea. As the head of a popular fashion house, Ella’s sole first impression of people usually came from the way they dressed, and that was one that never changed. “It’s a wonder Ursa managed to satisfy your inner fashion critic.”
“She didn’t, actually, but when you really love someone you can learn to look past the insignificant things.” Ella corrected. “Besides, her aquarium is amazing. Her interior design skills are otherworldly.” At his withering look, she continued, “But that was not my point. If Milah loved you, she should have been happy to be with you.”
“I still love her, you know.” Gold said softly, rubbing the back of his neck softly. Ella sat primly on the chair facing his, placing one bone-thin hand comfortingly on his knee. Her face softened as he said, “I just don’t understand why she did this.”
“Because Milah is a cold-hearted bitch.” Ella stated, raising one bone-thin eyebrow when he lifted his head to glare at her. “What? If you want meaningless comfort, go to Ursa. Actually, scratch that, she’s harsher than I am.”
“One day, Ella, Milah and I are going to get back together, and then things between you and I will get weird.”
“She left you at the altar, Robert. In front of your whole family and that pretty little venue waitress, then didn’t even have the decency to call you.” Ella deadpanned.
“Milah just needs some time. She still loves me, she just needs some time to sort some things out.” His excuse sounded weak even to his own ears, and he almost expected Ella to laugh.
“Robert, you have to come to your senses.”
Gold shook his head, stating, “I don’t know how we’ve managed to stay friends so long.”
Ella pulled her gin down from the cabinet, pouring a generous measure into a tumbler and sliding it in front of him. “You need this. And a reality check. Why would you still want someone who isn’t even sure she ever loved you?”
“Really, just keep driving that arrow in further. It doesn’t hurt enough.” Gold said, sipping the gin morosely. “I still love her, you know.”
“Acknowledged. She’s still on my personal shit list. And to think, I designed her wedding dress myself! A complete waste of my talents. I have no idea what I’m going to do with it now.”
Gold thumped the heavy glass back on the table and stood with a sigh. “If you’re done giving your rather harsh opinions on my failed love life, I think the continuation of our lesson is well overdue.”
Ella pouted but handed his phone back to him, which he promptly tucked back into his pocket. He was not going to open himself up to more of her comments - however well-meaning and truthful she was, he was just not ready to hear it yet. But she wouldn’t be Ella if she weren’t painfully blunt.
A half-hour later, the lesson was over, and he was more than ready to go home, take more than the recommended dose of Advil (probably with whatever was left of his scotch), and collapse into his sheets until he had some reason to wake up in the morning.
Ella stopped him right before he left, saying, “You should really think about going back to work, Robert. You are an amazing wedding singer, and I hope you’ll still think about singing at our wedding.”
“I’ll think about it, Ell, but I’m not really feeling up to it.”
Ella seemed contented at that (which was a bit of a surprise), and let him go, saying, “I’ll send Ursa over to make sure you haven’t drowned in alcohol or suffocated in your Downy-soaked sheets.”
“Your concern is appreciated, as always. She knows where the spare key is.” Gold said, letting the door to her and Ursa’s home click shut behind him.
Gold groaned as he heard someone absolutely pounding on his front door. He groaned and rolled out of bed, pulling pants and a old Van Halen tshirt out of his steadily-growing pile of dirty clothes. Normally he would not be caught dead unwashed in dirty clothes, but Ursa would just have to deal with it. It was just too much effort to do anything.
He stumbled down the stairs, and given that he was either incredibly hungover or possibly still drunk, it was a miracle he made it down without injuring himself. Once he finally made it down to the front door, he wrenched it open, snarling, “You couldn’t use the key?”
Belle...French, he thought that was her name, was standing in front of his door, awkwardly fiddling with the strap of her purse, her cheeks reddening. Honestly, he couldn’t imagine such a tiny girl could make such a loud noise on his door, but it may have been possible that his pounding head just amplified the sound. She certainly looked too nervous to make such noise.
After a minute, he realized he had been just staring at her like a dumbass; god, he hadn’t even apologized for snapping at her. “I...thought you were Ursa.” He said lamely, realizing one second too late that she might not even know who Ursa was.
Luckily for him, Belle smiled, asking, “You’re really out of it, aren’t you?”
“Yea.” He said again, trying to ignore the midday sun (god, how had he slept so long?) lighting her up like she was some kind of angel. After a moment, a terribly awkward moment of the two of them just kind of...not staring at each other, he remembered his manners. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you.” Belle stepped past him into the house, while he tried desperately to remember if there was anything too embarrassing lying around. He thought Milah’s things were probably strewn all over the back garden (which couldn’t be seen from the front room, thank god), and thankfully his mess of tissues and alcohol bottles were mostly in his room. He closed the front door, wincing at the sound of her heels clicking on the floor, and said, “Would you like some tea?”
“Sure. Thanks.” Belle said, and he led her to the kitchen, where she sat primly on one of the bar stools. He puttered around pulling out tea things (lord knew why there was so much in the house, he was the only one who drank it and yet there seemed to be enough for at least four people). As the tea was brewing, he downed a glass of water with a couple pain pills. “Are you coming to the Nolan’s wedding?”
Gold was convinced the alcohol consumption fried his brain, because he had no idea what she was talking about. It must have shown on his face because she clarified. “Next week? The wedding Lacey and I are working at? I thought Ella told me you might be.” She flicked through her phone, her teeth worrying the edge of her lip.
“No, I don’t think I will be. I’m sorry, Belle, but I have to ask. What are you doing here?” Gold said, wincing as the shrill tone of the tea kettle drove an ice pick through his skull (metaphorically of course, but he wouldn’t have been opposed to the literal meaning either) She flushed red, and he quickly turned to shut off the water so she could get her answer together.
“I was there. At your wedding.” She said softly, and he frowned involuntarily. It wasn’t enough that his whole family had seen Milah humiliate him, but now the little venue waitress had seen it too? She clearly wasn’t doing her job if she had seen his disaster of a wedding, but he was just sober enough to know he would probably get slapped if he implied so.
“Yes, Ella mentioned she had seen you.” Gold forced out, pouring hot water into his much too delicate tea cups with a shaking hand. After a moment, he said, “I don’t need your pity.”
“I just wanted to see how you were, you know. I don’t know what I would do if Gaston jilted me.” Belle said, her eyes thoughtful as she looked at him. “I hope you’ll still consider playing at our wedding. You are one of the best, at least I think so. You saved that last wedding.”
“Which one, the one with the drunk brother and the Jamaican prostitutes or the Mills-Ficient wedding where the hobo pirate started groping the maid of honor?” There had been way too many...memorable weddings for him to count, and Gold idly wondered if that was supposed to be a good thing. It certainly didn’t feel like a good thing.
“The brother and the prostitutes. I don’t think Lacey had gotten me the job yet when the hobo pirate incident happened, though she tells me all about it.” Belle answered with a smile and a roll of the eyes, presumedly at her twin’s antics. “You saved that couple’s wedding.”
“I did what any reasonable person might have done. It doesn’t take a genius to realize your significant other isn’t perfect.” Eager to turn the conversation away from what was surely another attempt to get him back to working weddings, he asked, “So has your fiance picked a date yet? What was his name again, Gary, Gerald?”
Belle giggled softly, and said, “You’re drunker than I thought. Gaston, and yes, we’ve finally picked a date. Two months from now, May 21st.”
Gold almost did a spit-take. “You’re going to plan a wedding in two months? You can’t be serious.”
“Well, his house has a spectacular backyard overlooking the lake, so we can get married there, and my dad’s a florist so I don’t have to worry about flowers. I’m wearing my mother’s wedding dress, and it’ll fit perfectly if I lose a few pounds. The reception hall is free that day, and I’ve already booked it.” Belle explained, counting off each point on her fingers. “And I was still hoping that you’d be our entertainment.”
Gold sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose- he was way too hungover for this, but he didn't think she would let it go. “I'm not sure, Belle. I can give you the names of a few good bands if you like. I just want to be done with love for now.”
Belle bit her lip, but took the refusal graciously. At that, her phone buzzed on the coffee table, and she picked it up with a small smile. “I should probably go, Gaston’s planning our engagement party.”
Gold walked her to the door, cursing his headache the whole way, and only when she stood outside on the porch did she say, “You should come to the party. Ursa and Ella are both coming.”
“I'll think about it.” He muttered noncommittally, and Belle rolled her eyes with a small smile.
“I'm sure I'll see you soon then.” She said and flounced off the porch towards her little coupe, a smile on her face the whole way. He tried to ignore the way his heart jumped as she turned and waved at him before getting in her car.
He would go to her little party, but there was no way in hell he was getting more involved than that.
The disconcerting part was that he couldn’t be 100% positive those blue eyes couldn’t convince him to help more.