The Wedding Shop on Wexley Street

by Rachel Dove

  He dropped a kiss on her cheek, giving her a squeeze.

  ‘I’m due to go back soon, so maybe next time you can come with me, have a little holiday.’ He must have felt her tense up, because he squeezed her that little bit tighter.

  ‘Don’t freak out on me, not yet. We have a date, remember?’

  He put the photo frame back on the desk, pushing her body forward with his to reach the desktop. She could feel the solidity of him against her. It felt oddly right.

  ‘I’m pretty much done here. I’ll just nip and tell the chef for tonight we’re off.’

  He released her then, walking to the door, and she felt the loss of his body warmth. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her gently to the door. It was as though he couldn’t bear to be far from her, and she was shocked to recognise that she felt it too. She had missed him so much. Too much. It scared her.

  He closed the door to his office behind her, leaning in to her till they brushed cheeks.

  ‘I can’t wait for tonight,’ he murmured into her ear, and she shuddered despite herself. Great, she thought to herself, I’m turning into the heroine from an Austen novel. I might as well buy a petticoat and practise my swooning. She cleared her throat and took a sidestep to get some distance from him.

  ‘I’ll er… wait at the bar,’ she said, flashing a quick smile and not meeting his eyes. She could feel him looking at her, but she turned and walked as well as she could on shaky legs. Reaching the bar, she flicked her gaze back to his office door, but he was gone.

  The bar was quite busy, couples and groups of people engrossed in their own conversations while they waited for their tables. The woman next to her was raving about the food here to her friends. Apparently there was some hot Australian that had come in, bought the place and vamped up the menu. Riding the surge of pride that rampaged through her body and flushed her cheeks, she asked the bartender for a Chardonnay. A large one. She needed to drown the butterflies in her stomach, or at the very least get them a little buzzed to chill them out.

  She was just handing over a note to the barman when she felt a sharp pain in her side. Turning, she saw that a man had jabbed her with his finger, digging into her shoulder blade to get her attention. She fixed her face into her best scowl and looked straight into the eyes of Michael Atwood, the slimy, flower-sending ex of her lovely, timid client.

  ‘Hey, tramp, what you doing in a nice place like this?’ He spat the words at her in a low growl, making great effort to enunciate every consonant like he was trying to hit her with the violence of his words. At the use of the word tramp, she bristled with anger. The message sent to work. She’d known it was him. She also knew how to deal with bullies like this. Bullies who used their masculinity and ‘I am far better than you, little female’ attitude to keep women small and manageable.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Atwood,’ she said sweetly, looking at the barman directly while she sipped her wine. The barman had obviously heard his comment, and he was looking at her companion intently. She hoped Jesse wouldn’t see him. She didn’t want to have to explain things to him. She’d just cost him weeks off work and she didn’t want to tank his business by causing trouble the minute she walked through the door.

  ‘Don’t good evening me, you little bitch! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out chasing ambulances?’

  He was standing next to a blonde woman, a very pretty, petite woman who was wearing what was essentially a slip. She had her arm linked through his, but she was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Cassie smiled at her, and she smiled uncertainly back.

  ‘Well, Mr Atwood, we all have to eat. You have a good evening now.’

  She wanted to add thanks for the flowers, dingleberry, but she didn’t want to cause a scene, or let on that she had even seen them, let alone been affected. She turned her body slightly away from him, closer to the bar, and sipped again at her wine. The other customers were oblivious, but Cassie could feel the crackle of tension in the air. The woman he was with withdrew her arm slowly, and Cassie knew she felt it too. Another lamb to the slaughter.

  He was glaring at her, panting heavily, and she could smell the alcohol on him every time he breathed out. She felt like it was invading her skin, his nasty, drink-fuelled thoughts sneaking in through her pores. She fought the urge to rub the skin on her arms. She looked good, and she felt good. This man wasn’t going to ruin her night. She was still praying for him to get bored and go away, before Jesse was ready to leave, when she felt a yank on her arm. The barman leant over the bar, grabbing his hand.

  ‘Hey, mate, you need to let go and leave.’ Cassie tried to prise his fingers off her hand, and looked to the girl, but she was gone. His fingers were tight, gripping her skin and piercing it with his sharp fingernails. ‘Mate!’ The barman raised his voice, but he was invisible to Michael as he tightened his grip.

  ‘Dining out on my money, are we?’ He had spittle forming at the corners of his mouth, his whole face twisted in a truly gruesome way. She thought of his ex-wife and kids, so lovely, normal, and never to be fully rid of this man.

  She was suddenly very grateful that she was who she was, and had never taken any guff from men like this. She was also glad Maria had insisted she have her nails done for her date at the fancy Harrogate salon near her office. She turned on her heels, facing him with an eerie grin, and putting her hand over his arm she squeezed. As hard as she could. She felt her nails rip through the top layer of his skin, and she pressed harder. The barman let go, stepping back.

  ‘Mr Atwood, get the hell off me before I have you arrested for assault as well as threatening behaviour. I earn my own money, defending women against filth like you. Your date left, join her.’

  He released his grip on her arm, and she took a subtle step away from him. Her arm was smarting, but she would check it out later. He looked over his shoulder as though checking the veracity of her statement, and then she saw Jesse. He was standing behind Mr Atwood, looking at him as though he wanted to rip his arms clean off his body. Mr Atwood didn’t notice in his drunken stupor and turned back to her. He raised his arm as though he was going to touch her again, but Cassie raised her hand.

  ‘Don’t,’ she warned. ‘Just leave, now.’

  ‘I’d do what the lady says,’ Tucker said behind him. The barman was still serving drinks, but tipped his head to Jesse. She realised he must have told him somehow. She burned with shame at making a scene at his workplace. Dear God, why did she always feel so vulnerable, so gawky around him? She never usually had men making her feel like this.

  Jesse had his arms crossed, and she could see his muscles pulse and flex under his shirt, his fists clenched tight under his elbows.

  ‘Oh really,’ Mr Atwood said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. ‘Come to fight her battles, have you?’ He snorted, and the spittle sprang from his mouth, like a trapeze artist on a ribbon. ‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you. Tramps are never worth the effort.’

  She heard Tucker suck his breath in through his teeth, but he didn’t move.

  ‘I don’t need to fight her battles, fella, trust me. Paul, mate, you might wanna move back a bit.’

  The barman chuckled and went off to serve the rather bemused drinking crowd.

  Cassie looked at Tucker, and he looked right back, as if to tell her he was there, he had her back.

  She focused once again on her aggressor and flicked her hair back off her shoulders.

  ‘I’m leaving now, Mr Atwood, and if you bother me again, I will press charges for assault against you. I have witnesses—’ she pointed to the people around her ‘—and you will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law. Let’s go, Jesse.’

  She went to walk around him, and Jesse took a step forward to take her hand, but he was there again, between them.

  ‘Who said you could leave, tramp? You ruined my life!’ He was so close, so in her face, that her nose pressed against his. She grabbed him by the shoulders and rammed her raised
knee straight between his legs with as much force as she could muster.

  ‘Urrgghhh!’ Mr Atwood dropped to his knees, holding his privates.

  Jesse took her hand and pulled her into his arms. He grabbed her face between his hands and searched her face.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked, his tone calm but his demeanour showing he was raging on the inside.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, and dropped a kiss onto his lips. His face broke into a huge grin, and the two stood there, looking at each other intently as the staff were carting Mr Atwood to the door, still bent on his knees, crying in pain.

  Paul shouted to him from behind the bar.

  ‘You weren’t kidding about your girl, Tucker!’

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled into him.

  ‘You should see what she can do with a weapon, mate. We’re off.’

  Paul gave him a salute and got back to work, and they headed to the exit.

  ‘Thanks for letting me deal with that, Tucker.’

  He led her outside, and to the car park, stopping by her car.

  ‘You okay to drive?’

  She nodded. ‘Where are we going?’

  He looked a little blindsided by the question.

  ‘I, er, figured we’d be going to yours after that. Don’t you need to call some people?’

  She suddenly thought of Michael Attwood’s wife, and her boss at the firm.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said reluctantly. The truth was, after that kiss, all thought of work was lost.

  One of the waitresses ran out to them, a huge picnic basket in hand.

  ‘Here, Tucker, we put this together for you.’ She was only a young lass, eighteen if that, with a bright pink streak in her blonde hair. Tucker took the basket from her, his eyebrows raising when he looked at the contents. The girl hugged Cassie fiercely.

  ‘Michael’s been coming here for years. With his wife. You did us all a favour. Enjoy your date!’

  Tucker waved her goodbye and tucked the hamper into the boot of her car.

  When he looked at her, she was watching him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thank you for letting me deal with that on my own, and not stepping in.’

  ‘I think I get the measure of you now, Cass. You don’t have to thank me. You just have to let me in.’ He went and opened her car door for her, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes and went to get in, but he pinned her in the open space.

  ‘I will open car doors for you, Cassie, and I will always protect you, but I get that you don’t need me to. You’ve never relied on anyone for anything, and I get that. I’m here, though, and I’m not going away. Not unless you ask me to.’ He leant on the car door with his right arm, leaning in and brushing his lips against hers. ‘Are you going to ask me to, or are you actually going to give me a chance? Give us a chance at being together? Equal partners?’

  He kissed her again, and she didn’t protest. She kissed him back, enjoying the feel of his lips.

  ‘That a yes?’ he asked. ‘You going to let me date you, and be there for you? Be there for each other?’

  She covered his hand with hers, over the car door, and he nuzzled his stubble against her neck.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s try.’

  Chapter 18

  Maria drove up the long, winding road, thinking of the last time she’d been here, the excitement and tension in the van when she’d driven up with James. Now it was almost here. Two days and it would all be over. Mark and Annabel would be married, and her secret would get easier to keep. Darcy had stayed away from the shop but constantly sent her letters and rang her. His messages were mostly about his mother, how he was going to tell her to mind her own business, that they could work it out. He didn’t mention the baby, just how he felt, how sorry he was. All about him. She hadn’t replied, except the time Cassie got hold of her mobile and texted back BUGGER OFF YOU NAMBY PAMBY DIPSHIT before she could wrestle the phone from her grasp. He’d stopped calling the shop too, since Lynn had taken to blowing a whistle down the line every time she knew it was him. Short, but very effective at getting rid of nuisance callers. This weekend would be another part of her closing the Darcy file, planning the perfect wedding to prove she still had it in her, even if her own marriage was a non-starter. She just wanted to see Annabel and Mark happy, then she could have that in her head as a good memory. The knowledge that she hadn’t screwed up anyone’s life. James was respectably cordial, but he was keeping his distance too. She had seen his van in the village lately, even on Wexley Street itself, but when she looked again, it had always disappeared. Maybe it was a pregnancy mirage. Given her current near-to-delivering condition, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.

  She drove her car into the car park area, as close as she could to the hotel while still being tucked away out of sight. The hotel was gorgeous, and there was even a nice big visible sign at the entrance now, so at least the guests wouldn’t have any problems finding it.

  She grabbed her bag and headed to the boot to pull out her overnight case. She had just waddled to the end of the car when someone opened the boot, pulling the case out.

  ‘You look nice,’ James said, pulling out the carry handle and reaching for her bag. She let him take it, and his lips twitched as though he was ramming a smile back in. ‘Getting big now.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said sarcastically, rubbing her bump. James’s blue-green eyes ran over every inch of her, making her feel like he was trying to scan her for any changes.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Maria!’ A screech behind him heralded Annabel’s arrival. ‘Look at you!’

  Annabel slammed into her and James winced.

  ‘Anna, be careful!’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, shooting him a glance. ‘I can’t believe you kept this a secret from me!’ She pulled back from hugging and put both hands on her bump. Maria shrank back before she could stop herself. James appeared at her side and removed his sister’s hands.

  ‘Anna, you don’t just touch pregnant women like that.’

  Maria grimaced inwardly, thinking of the times James had touched her stomach, felt her child kick, and spoke to it about the shop, the wedding, a rude customer he had had that day. The baby did a little kick, as always reminding her on cue of the good times with him.

  ‘Sorry!’ Annabel trilled. ‘It’s just so exciting, and you kept it quiet!’ Her face fell. ‘Oh God, sorry. I guess I get why. I found out from James, though. He had a pregnancy book in his van!’

  Maria looked sideways at James, but he kept his eyes on his sister.

  ‘Er, shall we go in then?’ He picked up the case like it was a piece of paper and held out his arm for Maria.

  She looked at it, at Annabel, and at the rather steep set of stone steps that led up to the hotel. She put her arm in his, and they all walked in together.

  Annabel kept up a constant stream of chatter until the checkout desk was free, and Maria found herself flagging with the small talk. It was lovely to see her so happy, but she was fast realising that doing this wedding was going to be the hardest thing ever. Especially with her secret on show for everyone to see. Her bump was like a telltale beating heart.

  ‘Hello, can I help?’ the chirpy receptionist asked, and Annabel finally drew breath. James took the opportunity to grab one of her girlfriends from the bar and take them off together.

  ‘Hi,’ Maria said, sighing with relief. ‘Maria Mallory, I have a suite booked for one night.’

  ‘One?’ James asked, appearing beside her again, still carrying her luggage. ‘Two, surely?’

  Maria ignored him, taking the key from the receptionist and heading to the lift. James went to follow, but she turned and held her hands out for her bags.

  ‘Mar, stop being ridiculous! Let me help you.’ He grabbed his own hair in his free hand, as though he was ready to rip it out.

  ‘It’s fine, honestly. I’m just going to freshen up.’

  He didn’t move, or give he
r the bags. The lift pinged as the doors opened, and a bellboy was standing there, looking at them expectantly.

  ‘Hi, can you possibly take my bags?’ she asked him. James tutted behind her but gave the bags to the lad. She followed him into the lift, and turning to face the doors as they closed, saw that James was gone.

  ‘Cassie, I don’t think I can do this. James is here, and I don’t know… Mark is going to see I’m pregnant. What am I going to say?’

  Cassie was lying in bed with Tucker at the cottage, and he gave her a kiss and headed downstairs to make them both breakfast. Cassie pushed her long black hair off her face, tousled from Tucker running his hands through it, and sat up straight.

  ‘You do the job, Mar, and get out of there. Do the dinner tonight, the wedding tomorrow, and then get your stuff in your car and come home. Don’t tell Mark anything. You have to act normal. Let them think it’s Darcy’s baby, just for now, then you can sort it out after. Tell the simpering git the truth and get rid of him and his dragon of a mother for ever.’

  ‘What about James, though?’

  Cassie sighed down the line. ‘I don’t know, Mar. You know I think you should tell him how you feel. I know it’s impossible now, but maybe after the wedding…’

  Maria looked in the mirror in the hotel bathroom. She was wearing a neat little sky-blue maternity dress, her hair swept back behind her ears.

  ‘I could wait for ever, but the baby will still be Mark’s. I can’t lie to him like that, not while I’m in his life. I’m a bad person. I need to get away from him, so I don’t ruin his life too.’

  ‘You didn’t ruin your life, or anyone else’s! You had a one-night stand, you were both single, and now you’re having a baby. Hell, without people like you, taking chances, living their lives… well, I’d be out of a job! Life is messy!’

  Maria laughed.

  ‘Great, thanks, mate. Great time to be a born-again bloody optimist by the way. I still can’t get James involved in this. Ever. I have to let him go, let him live his life. He deserves better.’