Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“No disrespect, but your dad is being an arsehole,” Heather declares, finishing the last of her Prosecco. “I mean, come on! He’s on wife number three! What position is he in to pass judgment on what love is? And besides, if he didn’t upset so many people, he wouldn’t have got that threat against you and hired Jake to protect you.” She smiles a little. “The irony is really quite beautiful.”
I hum my agreement, looking up at the clock.
“Hey, what’s that on your finger?” She makes a grab for my hand, and I pull away on impulse, looking as guilty as I feel. There’s one thing I haven’t told her yet, mainly because what I’ve already shared is a lot to take in.
“Camille?”
I look away, evading her questioning eyes.
“Is that a penned-on engagement ring?”
“It was just a joke.” I don’t know why I’m behaving like I’m ashamed. Perhaps the absurdity of this has just filtered into my overloaded brain. I’ve agreed to marry a man I’ve known a matter of weeks. Maybe so, but I feel like I know him like no other person I’ve ever met. I dive into my glass of fizz, feeling like I’m under interrogation.
“Cami, has he asked you to marry him?”
“Yes!” I spit, waving my glass in the air, making Heather sit back, wary. “I know it sounds mad. I don’t need you to tell me so.”
She purses her lips, looking like a duck, and I wait for the squeal of shock that I predicted. It’s a long few seconds before I conclude that it isn’t going to come. I give her an expectant look, rushing her along.
She shrugs, and I frown.
“Have you anything to say?” I ask.
“Apart from the fact that he should have bought you an actual ring?”
I toss her a filthy glare. “Yes.”
Cocking her head to the side, she stares into her glass, contemplating my question. She has to be shitting me. Nothing?
She eventually looks at me, and I see it. The bubbling scream working its way up from her toes. I bite my lip and move back, waiting to be blasted by the force. “Oh my God!” she screeches, her face reddening from the drain of air from her lungs, “Oh my God, Cami!” She puts her glass down and throws herself across the couch, tackle-hugging me. “Tell me I’ll be your maid of honor. Tell me the budget is colossal. Tell me we can have the hen party in St. Tropez!” she squeals in my ear, making my head ring.
“I’ve not thought about it,” I admit, taking my finger to my ear and rubbing away the aftereffect of the ringing there as Heather detaches herself from me. “Kind of finding it hard to think beyond the thought of Dad and Jake at each other’s throats.”
Heather laughs lightly, rubbing my arm in a sign of support. “I love how Jake isn’t afraid to stand up to your dad.”
I nod, agreeing. It’s doesn’t make our situation any less extreme, though. Glancing at the clock again, I see another fifteen minutes have passed. At what point do I check up on him? Check to see if everyone is alive? This is painful.
“Let’s look at dresses,” I blurt, taking drastic action in an attempt to distract myself.
“Yay!” Heather’s totally on board. “Get the laptop. Oh God, Vera Wang has some beauties this season!”
I grab my laptop and load Google, trying to match Heather’s enthusiasm. I don’t even get to load the first page. My phone rings from the table and I scramble to my feet, virtually throwing the laptop at Heather in my rush to answer.
When I see Dad’s number, I freeze, unsure as to whether that’s a good sign. He’s still alive. It has to be good. I connect the call. “Dad?”
“My little star!” he sings, immediately making me feel a million times better. The tension deflates out of my body like it’s sprung a puncture. “Darling, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”
I could cry with relief. “I love him, Dad.” I cut straight to the chase, feeling the need to enforce that. “I know it’s a shock for you, but he’s a good man.” I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my tired shoulders.
“Camille, I need to make you understand.” His voice is less jovial now, more serious. It’s what I would from expect from a man who has never apologized in his life. This is a huge step for him.
“It’s fine, Dad,” I assure him. I know he never meant to hurt me to the extent he has. I may not like how he’s conducted himself, but I understand why he did it. He needs to let go. Accept that I’m a grown woman with my own mind and my own decisions to make.