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  Twenty-Three

  “Look up, and don’t blink,” Jodie, my makeup artist, directed.

  Don’t blink was an easy enough instruction to follow. My problem was fidgeting. I would never admit it out loud, especially not to Edward, but I was nervous. How had two months gone by so quickly?

  That was a stupid question. I knew exactly how they’d flown by—I’d been kept extremely busy, that was how. The day after he’d slid the engagement ring on my finger, Edward had thrown me into wedding planning, much to my chagrin. I would have much preferred to hire a professional. The budget I’d been allowed for the event could certainly have paid for one of the best and still had plenty left over.

  When I ran the idea past Edward, though, he’d been vehemently opposed. “Your parents know you,” he’d said. “The ceremony may be small, but they will expect to see your touch in the details. If it’s generic and cold, they won’t believe your heart is really in this marriage.”

  Well, because my heart really wasn’t in the marriage.

  “Besides,” he’d countered when I’d continued my argument. “You might find you enjoy it.”

  I’d laughed in his face then. But the last laugh was his, because, although I’d been pissed to be tasked with the project, I had grown to enjoy it. It hadn’t really been like planning a wedding—an event I had absolutely zero interest in taking part of—because the guest list for our ceremony was so small. It had been more like organizing a fancy party with flowers and live music and a designer dress and gourmet dessert trays. With a sizeable budget and free rein to do whatever I wanted in the salon and dining room, I’d found the process similar to interior designing. The beauty was in the particulars, as Edward had suggested, and I’d gone all out making it feel like it was mine.

  I was pleased with what I’d come up with, in the end. Proud. Excited, even. Definitely nervous to see it all go off without a hitch.

  Between the planning and meetings with lawyers to both review and then sign the prenup, I’d barely had time for anything else, including seducing my husband to be. His schedule had been part of the problem. He had indeed been able to get the time off for a honeymoon, but he’d had to cram a lot of long days into the weeks beforehand. I’d convinced myself it was fine. My scheme required sexing to happen after vows were exchanged, not before.

  That reasoning didn’t seem to translate to my libido.

  I’d spent eight long weeks drowning in want. While I’d stayed at the hotel the whole time, I’d made sure to connect with Edward whenever possible. His desire to be apprised of everything wedding related had made that easy enough, and as annoyed as I’d been with this specific demand, I’d taken advantage of it, using it as an excuse to meet for dinner or drinks. I’d inundate him with details and took every opportunity to brush past him and sit too close and accidentally touch.

  But, as much as I’d flirted and prolonged these encounters, I’d left each night more aroused than when I’d arrived. He was good at that, I’d learned. Good at provoking me. Good at pushing the tension. Good at winding me up tighter and tighter and tighter until I didn’t think I could stand another second without the crush of his lips against mine. Good at leaving me with the female equivalent of blue balls.

  Tonight, though, everything would change. Tonight, we’d be married and instead of sleeping in a room halfway across the city, I’d be in a bed next door to him. This morning I’d checked out of my hotel and had my belongings delivered to my room in the master suite, and now, getting ready for the big event in his house—in his personal space—I already felt closer to my goal.

  If I was honest with myself, that was what had me the most nervous. Not my parents’ impending arrival, not the show we’d put on in this farce of a wedding, not the menu or the decor or anything to do with the actual ceremony, but what happened after. What happened tonight, when we were finally alone in the suite. That’s what had me twitching and sweating. That’s what had the butterflies swarming in my stomach like I was climbing the big hill of a roller coaster.

  Jodie put her mascara wand down on the counter and turned back to me. “Okay, look right at me so I can see if your eyes are even.”

  I did as she asked, fighting the urge to glance at my reflection in the mirror behind her instead.

  “You look fab, girl. Now, all we have left is your lips and then we can get those curlers out of—”

  A noise downstairs caused me to put up my hand to shush her.

  “Did you hear that?” I strained my ears to see what else I could hear. Two floors up, most noise from the ground floor came up muffled or not at all, but I’d left all the doors of the suite open specifically hoping I’d hear the doorbell.

  Jodie shook her head, her expression baffled.

  “Did it sound like the doorbell? I swear it was the doorbell.” I jumped up and ran to the window and peered down at the front step. “Shit! It’s my parents! They’re early!”

  “Actually, uh, we’re running a tad late.” Jodie smiled guiltily, even though it wasn’t entirely her fault we’d gotten behind schedule. A delay in the floral delivery had prevented me from getting started with my hair and makeup at the time I’d originally planned.

  It didn’t matter whether we were behind or on time—I had to greet my parents. I still had hot rollers in my hair, and I wasn’t even dressed, but they still didn’t know anything about what was happening today or who my fiancé was, and there was no way I was letting Edward get to them first.

  I grabbed my dressing robe and tied it quickly around me. “I’m sorry. I have to go down there. I’ll be back up as soon as I can.”

  Unless my father dragged me out of the house kicking and screaming. I hadn’t totally ruled that out as a possibility.

  Taking them two at a time, I rushed down the stairs, pausing on the next floor down to be sure Edward was still locked away in his office where he’d been sequestered until the ceremony. The doors were only slightly ajar, but I glimpsed a partial view of his backside and blew out a sigh of relief, and not just because of how damned good his ass looked in his suit pants.

  While he’d agreed to every other of my suggestions, my parents’ arrival had been the one thing the two of us had argued about in the planning process. He’d wanted to be there when I told them who I was marrying. I insisted he wasn’t. His presence would only stir my father up before I had a chance to offer any explanation, and even if I managed to get him to stay for the wedding after that, it would greatly reduce the chances of him ever liking Edward.

  And there was no good benefit of Edward being there. As far as I could tell, his reasons for wanting to be were sadistic and mean. He wanted to see my father’s face when I announced my engagement to his rival, that was all. It was only when I called him out that he backed down, lucky for me, because as he’d promised the night of our “negotiations,” he really did have the last word on everything. Even then, I hadn’t trusted him to not try to undermine the decision when the time came. Hence why I was eager to get downstairs.

  When I got to the ground floor, Jeremy was just exiting the receiving room. “Ah, ma’am. I was just coming to inform you of your parents’ arrival.”

  “I heard the doorbell, thank you.” I started to move past him then stopped. “Jeremy, would you mind making sure that Edward doesn’t come down here?”

  I knew it was hardly fair, asking him to try to influence anything his boss did or didn’t do, and his expression told me that he wasn’t at all comfortable with the idea.

  “Because it’s our wedding day, and all,” I said, hoping he’d buy the excuse. “The groom isn’t supposed to see the bride until the ceremony.” It wasn’t like we’d purposefully been trying to honor the tradition. With both of us having separate agendas for the day, it had just worked out that way. It was now seven in the evening, and we’d only bumped into each other in the hall once, much earlier in the day.

  “I’ll do what I can,” Jeremy reluctantly acquiesced. It wasn’t a guarantee, but I’d t
ake what I could get.

  With that issue managed, I slipped into the receiving room. “Mom! Dad! You made it!” They’d actually arrived in London the day before, but this was the first time I’d seen them. Between their jet lag and the last minute preparations, it had seemed easiest for everyone involved to wait until tonight.

  “There’s the birthday girl,” my father said, kissing my cheek as I embraced him. “You’re not dressed yet? Are we early?”

  “No, it’s me. I’m behind.”

  My hands were both still around my father when my mother exclaimed, “Oh, Celia! That ring!”

  I pulled out of his arms to show off the jewel I’d become quite attached to. After she oohed and ahed over it to her satisfaction, I moved to hug her. “You look fabulous, Mom. Is this dress new?” I knew it wasn’t. She’d worn the metallic sequin gown for a charity event the previous year, but I figured they both needed as much buttering up as possible.

  “This old thing?” she said, her cheeks getting red. “I was afraid I’d overdressed. You did say the party was formal?”

  “I did,” I said, cringing inwardly at her reference to a party. That was the lie I’d told in order to get them there and dressed appropriately. “I mean, it is. Formal. You both look great.”

  Okay, perhaps my nervousness extended to telling my parents the truth, too. Because right now my heart felt like it was about to pound out of my chest and my throat felt like I’d swallowed a quart full of sand.

  Best to rip the Band-Aid off fast.

  “Hey, um, let’s sit down for a moment and talk.” With my hand on each of their backs, I gestured them gently toward one of the sofas.

  “I don’t need to sit,” my father said.

  “Right,” my mother agreed. “We’re both eager to meet this man of yours. And don’t you need to finish getting ready?”

  “Yes, yes, I do. And you’ll meet, uh, my man soon enough. Actually, that’s kind of what I want to talk to you about. So could you please, for me, just sit down for a minute?”

  “Sure, honey. Sure.” My mother exchanged a glance with Dad, a glance that said oh, no, the engagement’s been called off.

  Of course they’d immediately think the worst. Maybe that would be to my benefit. They’d be so happy to find out I hadn’t ruined things after all that they wouldn’t care who I was marrying.

  Yeah, right.

  I waited until they were both settled on the sofa then I pulled an ottoman over so I could sit directly in front of them. As soon as I was seated, though, I started to panic. Should I have a drink for this? They should probably have a drink for this.

  I shot back to my feet. “Can I get you something to drink? Some brandy? Scotch?”

  “None for me,” my mother said, giving her husband a look that said he’d better say the same thing.

  I’d never realized how well the two communicated without words. It was something to aspire to in a relationship, really. If I ever had a real one of those in the future.

  With no chance of liquor easing the sting of my confession, I sank back down on the ottoman and took a deep breath. “As I’ve told both of you already, I am...um, in love with Edward.”

  Way to sell it, Celia.

  I could do better. I had to do better.

  “I’m completely in love with Edward. Eddie.” Eddie sounded like a good pet name, right?

  “Edward...Eddie. Is that the name of your fellow?” My father didn’t wait for me to answer before diving into his next question. “Is this his house we’re at? This is a really expensive house, Madge. Did you notice it’s across from Regent’s Park?”

  My mother nodded, her eyes wide and glimmering. “You didn’t tell us this Edward was so well-to-do.”

  At least Edward’s wealth impressed them.

  It also gave me something to latch onto as I tried again to emphasize my “feelings” for my husband-to-be. “I guess that’s because I don’t even notice his money, Mom. That’s how much I love him. How much I love Eddie. He’s turned my entire world upside down. But in a good way! I can’t even remember what life was like before him. He’s...just…” What the fuck did women say about the men they loved? I’d gotten in the middle of enough relationships that I should know this.

  The truth. Stick to as much of the truth as possible.

  “I was numb before Edward. Since I’ve met him, I’ve felt things that I haven’t felt in ages. He makes me excited. He makes me crazy. He makes me calm, too, strangely enough. Even when he has my stomach fluttering like I swallowed a bunch of bees, I feel anchored.”

  It was the first time I’d been honest with them about Edward.

  It was the first time I’d been honest with myself, too.

  My mother reached out to pat my knee. “Well, honey, that’s what love is. I’m so happy you’ve found it, and with such an impressive man. What does he do again? Did you ever tell me?”

  “Uh...he owns his own company. I’ll tell you more in a minute, but first—”

  The front door swung open, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Hello!” Genevieve said, smiling brightly. “Oh. I thought I was late. But you aren’t even dressed yet. Is everything all right?”

  I wanted to say, No, everything is not all right, especially when Hagan came in right behind her, but she’d likely already gotten that from looking at me. All the blood had drained from my face the second she’d walked in the door. I’d been so worried about Edward walking in and ruining my whole confession, I hadn’t even considered the possibility his children could do the same thing.

  This was fine. If I dealt with it swiftly and carefully, this didn’t have to be a big deal at all.

  I stood up, and my parents followed suit. “Everything’s fine. I’m behind, is all, but I wanted to talk to my parents for a minute before the whole evening started.” Hint, hint, I want to talk to them alone.

  “Ah! These are your parents!” Hagan had no skills at reading subtext, apparently, and instead of rushing along he was now extending a hand out in greeting.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Hagan and Genevieve, Edward’s children.” I turned to the siblings. “Madge and Warren Werner.” It was a quick introduction, but adequate, and maybe now they’d get the clue?

  Hagan didn’t move. “Fantastic to meet you. Are you excited for the big event?” Obviously neither of Edward’s kids knew the whole night was a surprise to my parents.

  “For the wedding? Or for tonight’s—”

  I cut my mother off. “I don’t want to be rude, but I really need to finish talking to my parents, and I’m sure Camilla could use some help with Freddie while she finishes getting ready.”

  Genevieve wasn’t so obtuse. “Hagan, come on. Dad’s probably pacing a hole in the carpet upstairs. Let’s go check on him.”

  Thank the Lord they were leaving.

  I’d just gotten my parents sat back down when Genny reappeared. “Whoops. Didn’t shut the door. Wouldn’t want Dad to see you before it’s time.”

  I held a frazzled smile until the doors were closed, and she was definitely gone.

  “What did she mean about her dad not seeing you?” Of course my mother hadn’t missed that.

  “Nothing. It’s nothing.” I shook my head profusely, refusing to figure out a better explanation. I needed to just get through this. She’d figure it out soon enough. “Where was I?”

  “Those kids of his are adults,” my mother said, not caring where I’d been before. “How old is their father?”

  “He’s a decade older than me, Mom. He had his kids young. Not a big deal.” Seriously, if she was going to get worked up about our age difference, I didn’t stand a chance with the other information.

  “He’s established, Madge,” my father said. “That’s what matters.” He turned back to me. “You were telling us about Edward’s business, I believe.”

  That hadn’t actually been what I’d been telling them. “Right. But first—”

  “Yes, but first…” My mother nodded encouragingly. “That’s
what you were saying.”

  “But first, I want to really be sure you understand how happy I am and how much I want to be with Edward.”

  My mother brought her hand to her heart like an actress in a melodrama. “Honey, you’re making me nervous. What’s wrong?”

  “Are you knocked up?” My father’s tone said he might have to kill my fiancé if I was, an almost comical reaction since I was already getting married. To be fair, he’d had the same reaction the one time I had been pregnant. At least he was consistent.

  I laughed nervously. “No, no. I’m not pregnant.” That would require us to have had sex first. “And nothing’s wrong. But there are a couple of things you should know. Um.” I blinked, the words stuck in my throat. Why was this so hard?

  “Just spit it out, Celia.” My father never had patience for drawn-out conversations.

  “Okay. Right. Okay.” I leaned over to take my mother’s hand. “Now, don’t be mad, Mom, but this isn’t really a birthday party.”

  “Are you saying…?” She trailed off so I couldn’t be sure she’d guessed accurately.

  “I’m saying, surprise! I’m getting married!” I’d been joking when I’d originally proposed breaking the news like that, but, in the moment, that was the way that came out.

  “Tonight? You’re getting married tonight?” My mother was as taken aback by this announcement as I’d thought she would be. She carried on for another ten minutes this way. I was anxious about getting my hair done in time, so I was watching the clock.

  My father, on the other hand, was pleased as punch that he wouldn’t have to pay for a wedding, the bastard. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it.

  “Mom, please,” I said finally, wishing I could stop the seconds from ticking by. “I’m getting married tonight because that’s the kind of wedding I wanted. Please, please accept that and don’t ruin this day for me.”

  That clammed her up for all of one heartbeat. Then she was crying and hugging me—awkwardly since we were both still sitting—and telling me how happy she was for me and to just be included on my special day.