Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I wince. I can only imagine the effect this must have had on her. “Ashley listen, if you need the rest of the money sooner—”
She cuts me off with a wry smile. “Why Finn Jagger, it’s starting to sound almost like you care.”
“Shit it is, isn’t it?” I ask with a laugh. “I take it back.”
She laughs with me and a little of the strain leaves her face.
I’d like to think it’s because we’re talking, but I suspect it’s more to do with the Cognac. “Seriously though, it’s there if you need it,” I say.
“Thanks.” She smiles. “But I spent all of yesterday evening rejigging things and I think that part at least is sorted.”
“Good,” I reply. “So it must have gotten better after that?”
“You would think, wouldn’t you? But today has been almost as bad. We lost a big donor this morning and then I decided to try and patch things up with my father. We were making some headway, and then I mentioned losing the donor and he flipped out, saying I’d only come to him for money. I hadn’t. He’s always made it clear that he doesn’t support me in this and I would never ask him for money for it. Aside from anything, I know my father. He’s the kind of man who would donate money and then assume he could tell me how to spend it, and frankly, I don’t need that shit. So anyway, we got into another big argument. And then to top it all off, I had to have dinner with your mother earlier this evening to go over some of the wedding details.”
“How was that?” I groan.
“Not as bad as I thought.” Ashley smiles. “It shows you how bad this weekend has been when having dinner with a woman who absolutely terrifies me was the nicest part of it.”
I try not to look too closely at what she’s wearing, but I can’t help it. Suddenly, it’s clear she has made an effort with her clothes and I didn’t even notice at first. She’s wearing a fitted white blouse and a black pencil skirt. She’s even wearing black heels. It’s a safe, sensible outfit, but at least, she wouldn’t have looked out of place wherever my mom dragged her.
Ashley smirks at me. “Yes, I learned from experience and bought something to wear for the dinner,”
I realize I haven’t been as subtle as I thought I was. “It suits you.”
She doesn’t respond but her lips tilt up a bit as she brings her glass to her lips again.
“Dare I ask where we are with the wedding planning?” I ask quickly. The temperature in the room just rose by a few degrees.
“You can ask, but you’d need to call Damon or your mom if you want a halfway sensible answer. All I know for sure is I’ve chosen a champagne sponge cake with French vanilla buttercream and strawberry compote filling for our wedding cake. It’s going to be five tiers and it’ll be white with ruffles and edible silver leaf decorations.”
“Ruffles?” I ask.
“You sound like me.” She laughs. “They look nicer than they sound.” She reaches up with one hand and rubs her neck, wincing slightly. “Oh, and I settled on Melbourne Hall for the location. I hope that’s okay. The cathedral felt wrong knowing this is a sham, and your parents’ house seemed too daunting.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “You know, this is starting to feel like a real wedding.”
She freezes and raises an eyebrow.
I laugh at her expression. “Well, isn’t this how it goes? The bride makes the choices and the groom just agrees with everything.” I chuckle.
Ashley laughs with me and nods. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve got a dress fitting next week too and your mom has invited herself along so that’s not going to be terrifying at all.”
“Don’t worry I’ll get you out of it. Your own mom should be with you to get a wedding dress. Right?”
“Mmmm.” She’s still rubbing at her neck.
Something happens inside me. I take a big swallow of Cognac.
“She should be, but I haven’t actually told her about the wedding yet, so I guess I’ll just go with your mom. At least that way, there won’t be any surprises on the big day if she hates the dress.”
I nod absently, not paying much attention to her words now. My eyes keep going to her hand on her neck. “Have you hurt your neck?” I ask, trying and failing not to be distracted by the way her hand kneads her skin and the way her collar is coming more and more open.
“I just have a knot there. It always happens when I’m stressed out.”
“Turn around and I’ll get it for you,” I offer without thinking.
Ashley raises an enquiring eyebrow at me.
“Oh, come on Ashley. It’s not like I’m suggesting we have sex. Surely, you trust yourself to let me massage your neck.”