Ash blinked. He’d been invited to five of Zoey’s non-weddings so far—well, four if you discounted Harry, since the invitations were never actually posted for that one. Not one of them had taken place at a registry office. There’d been two in churches, one in a pagoda by a stream, one in some swanky hotel in central London, then the one out in the Indian Ocean that had brought them here.
The one thing they all had in common was, whoever she was intending to marry, Zoey planned to put on a show. A big display of love and happiness for everyone to share in. Not because she was trying to show off—he knew that wasn’t her style. Just because she wanted her big day to be a big deal.
In her mind, it was always the start of the rest of her life. ‘And I want to start it off with a bang!’ she’d told him once, when he’d asked about the fireworks on a village green somewhere, outside the perfect stone church.
But this time, marrying him, she was planning on the registry office? That didn’t feel right.
‘I thought you might want something a little...fancier?’ he said tentatively. ‘I mean, you know the money isn’t a problem. And if this is the one wedding you actually go through with, I want it to be everything that you want.’
Her smile softened as she looked at him fondly. ‘Ash, I don’t need fancier. I don’t need the show this time. A registry office wedding will be more than fine.’
He almost didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘Why? Why is this time so different?’
Zoey laughed at that, her face bright. ‘Really? Ash, everything is different this time. I mean, I’m pregnant, you’ve been married before, and we’re doing this because we’re building a family together. It’s practical, not romantic. We’re not even sleeping in the same bedroom, for heaven’s sake. So why make a big deal out of the wedding?’
Her words stung, even as he realised the truth of them. ‘That doesn’t mean it isn’t important. Meaningful.’
She shrugged again. ‘And it’ll still be meaningful in a registry office, whether I’m wearing a white dress or not. Is that the chicken?’
The sound of the kitchen timer broke through his thoughts at last, and he dashed back to the kitchen to rescue dinner. But he couldn’t shake her words.
It’s practical, not romantic.
Yes, it was practical. But couldn’t it be both? Why did practical have to mean they stripped all the romance away?
He wanted this wedding day to be a fresh start for both of them. A new life together. Not just a piece of paperwork they needed to make the legalities and practicalities of being a family more straightforward.
We’re not even sleeping in the same bedroom.
Ash dropped the wooden spoon onto the counter as those words drifted through his mind. Was that the problem?
He’d been holding back because he thought that was the right thing to do. She was pregnant, exhausted and nauseous a lot of the time. Plus they’d decided to be friends—but that was before they’d also decided to get married. He hadn’t wanted to push the issue of what their physical romantic relationship might be when they were married, choosing to leave it up to her to define that when she felt ready.
But he knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted.
Did she, though?
Did she honestly not realise the battle he fought every day not to grab her and kiss her? The tight hold he’d had to keep on his self-control not to suggest she join him every night when they went to their separate rooms? How crazy it drove him catching her scent everywhere he turned and not being able to hold her close?
Perhaps she didn’t.
And perhaps it was time he made that clear.
Ash turned off the heat under the pot. Dinner could wait.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘IS IT READY?’ Zoey asked as Ash approached again from the kitchen. She couldn’t quite read the look on his face, but suddenly she got the feeling he wasn’t coming to talk about the food.
He shook his head, confirming her suspicions. ‘I need to talk to you about something first.’
Apprehension filled her, tightening her chest as she closed the catalogue in her hands. ‘Okay.’ Was he going to call the whole thing off? Tell her it would never work?
That he knew she loved him, and he couldn’t ever love her back, so they should forget all this stupid marriage business?
This time, when he sat, Ash chose the seat right next to her and took her hand in his. She hoped he couldn’t feel it trembling.
‘You said that our wedding was practical. Functional, even.’
‘Because it is,’ she replied. ‘Isn’t it?’ She couldn’t quite keep the hope from her voice, but if Ash heard it he didn’t show it.
‘I suppose so,’ he said. But then one of his hands drifted up her arm, along her neck, cupping her jawline and suddenly breathing became an awful lot harder. ‘But that’s not all I want it to be.’
Zoey forced herself to swallow down the hope that was building inside her. ‘What...what were you hoping for, then?’
‘This.’ He gave her plenty of time to back away as he bent his head to kiss her. But all Zoey could think was, At last.
Oh, she had missed this so much. The feel of his lips against hers, his mouth, his tongue darting out across hers. Missed the heat that rose up to fill her at his touch. His arms, shoulders and back—so steady, hard and strong with muscle—under her fingers. His black hair, silky as she ran her hands through it. And the way he held her close—as if she was precious, but also greedily, as if he’d die if he couldn’t have her right now...
Actually, she might die if she couldn’t have him again. Now.
Ash pulled away and Zoey heard herself whimper at the loss of his lips. So pathetic, Hepburn.
‘Uh, what I was trying to say...’ He trailed off as if the intensity of the kiss had surprised him too.
‘I think...’ Zoey swallowed as her voice came out croaky, then tried again. ‘I think I get what you were saying.’
He gave her a wicked smile, one that lit her up from within again, thinking of the last time she’d seen that smile, on a beach in paradise.
‘I was holding back,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t want to rush you into anything, but I’d hate for you to think for a moment that I don’t still want you. That when I proposed to you I didn’t hope that, one day, we’d have more than just a functional marriage.’
‘I want that too,’ she whispered. It wasn’t love, of course. But to have Ash with her every day, and in her bed every night? That was close. It could be enough.
Couldn’t it?
He kissed her again, lighter and happier, but no less arousing.
‘So,’ he asked. ‘Dinner or bed?’
She didn’t even have to think about the answer.
‘Bed.’
* * *
Later—much later—as they lay in the darkness, Zoey tucked into the crook of his arm as he ran his other hand down her side, Ash wondered how he’d got so damn lucky.
‘I never thought I could have all this again, you know,’ he whispered to her, not sure if she was even still awake. ‘I’m so happy I get to have it with you.’
‘So am I,’ she whispered back. But there was something in her voice—something that reminded him of her running away from him on that beach in paradise. Something that gave him pause, even while he couldn’t put his finger on quite what it was.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly. ‘Do you need anything?’
Whatever she needed, he’d give her, if it was within his power.
Zoey wriggled into an upright position, dragging the blanket with her so it covered those magnificent breasts he’d so enjoyed rediscovering. The fact that pregnancy had made them even more sensitive was only a bonus.
‘Dinner?’ she asked hopefully. ‘We never got around to it, and I’m kind of hungry.’<
br />
Of course. Ash’s worries floated away as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips and jumped out of bed, reaching for his trousers.
‘Stay here. I’ll bring it to you,’ he said, whistling as he headed back to the kitchen.
Everything was going to be fine now. He was sure of it.
* * *
The next few weeks disappeared in a rush of wedding preparations and sex.
Zoey held firm on her registry office plan, and eventually even Ash seemed to agree it was the best idea.
‘Apart from the fact it’s the only way we’re going to get this organised in time if you keep dragging me back to bed every time we have a moment free, I quite like it,’ she said one Saturday morning as they lay together, naked under the sheets.
‘I haven’t heard you objecting to the bed part,’ Ash commented.
‘I’m not. But I am being practical. And romantic.’
Ash propped himself up on one elbow as he looked down at her. ‘How so?’
Zoey grinned up at him, loving the feel of him so close. ‘This wedding is about the future, right? Our lives together, with our child.’ Her hand went automatically to her belly as she said it, and bumped into his as it rested there.
‘Right,’ Ash agreed. ‘So?’
‘So the actual wedding is the least important part. I’m less interested in the day itself, and more focused on everything that comes next.’ His expression softened a little at that and Zoey felt it, tight in her chest. ‘Plus, it means we can spend more time in bed and less time looking at venues.’
‘I’m always in favour of that,’ Ash agreed, swooping down to kiss her again. And then they had better things to do than talk.
Which was just as well, Zoey thought later. Because otherwise she might have ended up confessing her other reasons for wanting to keep things simple.
This wasn’t like her other weddings. There was no hope for true love here—as much as she was still holding out for content and sexually satisfied ever after. She knew she needed to keep that at the front of her mind. Keeping the wedding to a simple registry office affair and lunch with Ash’s parents afterwards was just one of the ways she was doing that.
Her heart ached with the knowledge that the man she loved more than anything in the world would never love her back the same way. He might be her prince, her forever love. But she’d only ever be his stand-in princess, the understudy in a role she was never meant to play for real.
And she could live with that, she’d decided, for the sake of their child. But she couldn’t ever let herself forget her place. Because, if she did, she knew that the smallest reminder would break her, over and over again.
She and Ash loved each other as best friends, and co-parents to be. And as far as he and the rest of the world were to know, that was exactly how things would stay.
No one else needed to know her secret truth.
On the morning of the wedding, Ash kissed her goodbye—a long, lingering promise of a kiss—as she lay in bed. ‘I’ll see you there, yes?’
She smiled lazily up at him. ‘As long as I can bring myself to get out of this bed, yes.’ When he still looked a trifle uncertain, she rolled her eyes. ‘I’m marrying you today, Ash Carmichael, come hell or high water. So go pick up your parents and I’ll see you at the registry office.’
He grinned. ‘Okay. Your car will be here in two hours.’ Another quick kiss and he was gone.
Zoey took her time getting ready—the plain ivory silk, empire-line dress she’d chosen was loose and flowing around her waist, but dipped deep at the neckline to make the most of her enhanced cleavage. It fell almost to the floor, but stopped just short to show off her bright pink heels. She curled her hair so it fell around her shoulders and applied her normal make-up rather than the extra brides were always recommended to wear, to last out the day.
Her day would end after the wedding lunch. Then, tomorrow, they’d fly out to the South of France for their honeymoon—something Ash had insisted they have, even if they were forgoing most of the other traditional wedding trappings.
‘If this day is about starting our lives together, then I want to make sure we start it right,’ he’d said.
‘You mean by taking me away and keeping me in bed for a week?’ Zoey had guessed.
‘Exactly,’ Ash had replied, with one of his most wicked grins.
Zoey hadn’t felt it was worth arguing with, after that.
It felt surreal, preparing for her wedding alone—for all that it was her choice. She hadn’t even told her parents she was getting married, this time, let alone about the baby. She’d managed to move out again before they’d even returned from her last wedding, so she hadn’t seen them since she’d left the island resort. They hadn’t called, and neither had she.
I don’t need them now. I’ve got Ash, and our baby. I’ve got a new future.
Maybe, if she kept repeating the words to herself, she’d feel less alone.
When the car arrived, the driver called the lift for her and she descended to the street in her wedding dress, waiting for him to open the car door before she got in. As he closed it behind her, she looked to the seat next to her, surprised to find it empty. She’d been expecting to see someone, she realised suddenly. Not her father, or even Ash...
Grace.
The name came to her lips before her brain, almost.
She’d expected to see her best friend since junior school, there on her wedding day to give her away—to give her blessing on her marriage to Ash.
But Grace was gone, and Zoey was alone.
But only until I marry Ash.
The car pulled away from the kerb and Zoey forced herself to focus on the future she’d made for herself—and leave the past behind for good.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘WELL, THIS IS a bit different from last time.’ Ash’s father, Arthur Carmichael, folded his hands behind his back and rose up on the balls of his feet as he surveyed the registry office, before dropping back down again.
‘This is still the hallway, Dad,’ Ash pointed out. ‘I’m sure it’s nicer inside.’
His mother had already disappeared to the florist she’d spotted a few doors down, when she’d learned that it was possible Zoey didn’t even have a bouquet. He didn’t think his parents quite embraced the idea of simple but meaningful the way Zoey seemed to have.
To be honest, it wasn’t exactly his idea of a dream wedding either.
But he’d already had that once. This was something new. And that was fine.
‘I wasn’t talking about the venue, son,’ Arthur said. ‘I meant...this whole thing. Are you sure you really want to do this?’
That, Ash knew for certain. ‘Absolutely.’
‘For the baby.’ Arthur sighed. ‘I suppose that’s the right thing to do, and your mother will be pleased. But these days, you don’t have to, Ash, you know that, yes? You can support her, of course, and be a part of the child’s life, without marrying her.’
‘I know that.’ How could he make his father understand? ‘She’s...she’s my best friend, Dad. I care for her. I want her to be happy. And honestly? She makes me happy too. I never thought I’d find that again.’
‘After Grace,’ his father said thoughtfully. ‘Well, happiness is no bad thing to reach for, I suppose. Even in a place like this. Now, where is your mother? Aren’t we supposed to be starting soon?’
‘Zoey’s not here yet either,’ Ash pointed out. ‘Don’t worry.’
He wasn’t worrying. She’d come, he was sure. Things were different this time, after all—wasn’t that what she’d said? She could see their future together. He knew her, in a way all those other men she’d almost married didn’t. He was her best friend.
She wouldn’t let him down.
She’d be there. With or without a bouquet.
He didn’t care. As long as
she showed up.
* * *
‘This is a bit different from last time.’
Zoey stopped outside the hallway as she heard Arthur Carmichael speak.
Last time. When Ash had been madly in love with his bride-to-be, and they’d had the perfect wedding and the perfect life.
She shouldn’t listen in, she knew that. But she couldn’t help herself. And as she heard Ash list the reasons he wanted to go through with the wedding...she couldn’t stop herself hoping for words she knew she wouldn’t hear.
Because I’m in love with her, Dad.
Of course, they never came.
Because he wasn’t in love with her. And he never would be. And she had to come to terms with that.
‘She makes me happy too. I never thought I’d find that again.’
She made him happy. That was something, wasn’t it?
After Grace.
Grace. Grace, who she loved and missed and wished she could see just once more every single day.
Grace, who held Zoey’s fiancé’s heart and would never give it back.
And so Ash was trying to recreate the future he’d lost, casting Zoey as Grace.
‘I can’t play that part,’ she whispered to herself, realisation washing over her.
She’d known what he’d wanted—the life he’d had torn away from him. She just hadn’t realised that she couldn’t give it to him.
She couldn’t be Grace for him—that wasn’t who she was. And she definitely couldn’t live knowing he was spending every day comparing her to the wife he’d lost.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t marry Ash.
Oh, God, she was running out on another wedding.
She turned to leave, only to find Mrs Carmichael rushing up the steps behind her.
‘Zoey! Perfect timing. I’ve brought you these.’ She held out a large bunch of yellow roses and Zoey tried not to recoil from the offering.
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