“Breakfast is at eight,” I tell her instead. It comes out scratchy and low. “It’ll be the whole family again, just to warn you.”
“As long as I don’t have to eat beans, I’m fine with whatever.”
I snicker and drag a hand through my hair. I don’t miss the way her eyes trace the line of my biceps or the way her teethscrape across her full bottom lip, so quick I’d miss it if I weren’t already watching her closely. It would be so much easier if this attraction were one-sided, but no—we’re both suffering through this mutual mess of keeping our hands to ourselves for the sake of the greater good.
But I’m about ready to tell the greater good to go fuck itself so I can rip those lace panties off her.
“The chef will make you whatever you’d like,” I say as I try to discreetly adjust myself under the covers. “Are you done in the bathroom? I’ll get ready once you are.”
She nods, the topknot perched on her head quivering with the motion. Even like this, with her hair tied up and skin glistening with whatever she’s smoothed over it, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
And if I didn’t know it before, I certainly do now—I’m in trouble if I can’t find something to hate about my wife.
Stella and I are the last ones down to breakfast, even though we’re perfectly on time. Which means everyone else got here early—absolutely unheard-of in this family—andthatmeans something is up.
I glance at each face around the table as I escort Stella in and pull out her chair. Geneva smirks as we sit down, as if she’s in on the secret, while Edith and Calais keep themselves busy on their phones. Andrew and his wife look like they couldn’t care less about what’s going on. Figgy, however…Well, she may be staring at the empty plate in front of her, but her shoulders are tense and her lips are pressed into a firm line. Huh.
Thankfully no one makes a fuss about our arrival. Mum smiles at Stella from across the table, practically vibrating with excitement—another warning sign. Dad sits to her left at thehead, jaw set as he looks between us, and unease creeps up my neck when his gaze moves to Mum. We’re about to be ambushed.
I’m proven right when Mum claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Now that we’re all here,” she says as she glances around, “I want to make an announcement.”
Under the table, Stella’s hand lands on my thigh and squeezes. Despite the positioning, it’s not a sexy touch—it’s more of aWhat the fuck is happening here and do I need to be worried?kind of thing. I catch her eye and give a small shrug. I’m as clueless as she is. But I get the feeling I’m not going to like what’s about to come out of Mum’s mouth next.
“Thomas,” she says, and I slide my hand over Stella’s, keeping it there and squeezing back. “Your father and I were so upset we weren’t invited to your wedding. That should have been a full family affair. It was incredibly disappointing to hear about it secondhand, to say the least.”
I should have known that was coming. She planned both Edith’s and Andrew’s weddings, pushing the respective brides out of the way each time to do exactly what she wanted. At least Stella and I avoided that fate by eloping.
Or so I thought.
“And that’s why we’ve decided to have another wedding for you here!”
I freeze. Stella freezes. The only sounds in the room are of Edith’s children playing with their toy cars in the corner and Geneva’s snickering. I bet she was the first one Mum told about her plans, considering my youngest sister is her favorite. Calais looks like she’s trying to tamp down her excitement for our sake, though I’m sure she’s already been asked if she’ll design Stella’s dress. Andrew, Edith, and their spouses don’t lookshocked to hear any of this news either. Even Figgy doesn’t seem surprised.
We’re really the last to know.
Mum waits for our reactions, but Stella’s parted lips and wide, unblinking eyes tell me she’s too stunned to speak. If she could form words, I already know they’d be along the lines ofYou’ve got to be fucking kidding me, lady.
I search for something to say that won’t hurt my mother’s feelings or set off Dad. I can only grit out, “When?”
Mum’s delighted by the question. “Well, we’re on quite the tight timeline if we want to do it before your season starts, but we were thinking mid-February. Maybe around Valentine’s?”
Stella’s nails press through the fabric of my trousers and dig into my skin.
“Why not wait until the summer break?” I ask, trying not to shut her down completely. If we were a real couple who’d married on a whim without our families present, we’d want to have a celebration with them, right? “The weather will be better.”
And it will buy Stella and me more time to build our lie and convince themnotto have what’s sure to be a massive, multimillion-pound wedding. We don’t need more eyes on our relationship if we’re going to be divorced by the end of next year.
“Nonsense, there’s no reason to wait.” Mum waves a hand, dismissing the idea, before looking to Stella. “I’ll handle everything, dear. All I need are your measurements for your wedding dress—Calais will be designing it, of course—and a list of your color preferences.”
Stella nods over and over again, processing as quickly as she can. “That sounds amazing, Iris,” she eventually replies.There’s a breathless note to her voice that I recognize more as panic than excitement. “I’ll leave it all in your capable hands.”
“Then that’s settled.” Mum claps again, bringing an end to the ambush. “Let’s have a wedding!”
“Wecannotlet her do this.”
Stella and I are tucked away in a hallway corner, debriefing after breakfast and that hit from my mother. I get where Stella’s coming from with her hissed refusal, but I don’t think we can shut this idea down now that everything is in motion, especially not with Mum at the helm.
“Look, we can let my mother plan, but we don’t have to go through with it,” I offer, keeping my voice low so we’re not overheard if anyone comes out of the dining room. “Maybe the wedding can be our new divorce deadline.”
