Chapter 3
three
. . .
artie
After watching Jed’s car disappear down the street, I let myself into my flat and shut the door firmly behind me. I lean against it for a second before slowly sliding to sit on the floor. I stare ahead, looking at the peeling wallpaper. The pattern is made up of cats wearing different hats. The previous occupant was obviously a fan of felines because they’re on the wallpaper in all the rooms.
It’s dark, so Daisy isn’t here, and it’s cold because we’re trying to cut costs. Our last electricity bill gave the impression that we’d been heating the flat for a century rather than just a month. The flat is small and poky, and the smells from the pizza place downstairs can sometimes be rather overpowering, but it’s home.
I pick at the worn carpet and carefully replay Jed’s proposal in my head. After I’d spat my drink over him, he calmly wiped it off and said quietly that I’d obviously need time to think about his suggestion.
Now that I’m away from him, I can analyse his idea. Perhaps understand why it had even occurred to him. And try to tell my foolish, dreaming heart that his motivation had nothing to do with that—my foolish, dreaming heart—and everything to do with Jed’s usual, practical, steady willingness to help one of his mishap-prone employees get out of a jam.
I still remember when Rafferty and Stan got locked out of their flat. Jed had arrived with a ladder and proceeded to break in to get their keys. It was the neatest, most efficient burglary I’d ever seen. Maybe it was a little too good because when the police turned up in response to a neighbour’s alarmed phone call, they’d tried to arrest him. It was only when one of them recognised Jed that they cancelled the plans to take him down to the station. This had caused a great deal of amusement in the office and even Jed had laughed when Raff and Joe had turned up to the staff meeting handcuffed to each other. He'd been even more amused when they lost the key.
My phone rings, and Daisy’s face flashes up on the screen. She’s laughing in the picture, which she does a lot in life.
“Hey,” I say. “Are you having a good night?”
“Oh, the best night, babe.” There’s a lot of noise in the background, so I guess she’s at a club. “I have something amazing to tell you.”
“What?” I ask cautiously. Daisy’s ideas can sometimes be rather catastrophic because she doesn’t think things through.
“Do you remember my friend Simon?”
“Can you narrow it down? You have hundreds of friends.”
“I met him at college. He was the one who was sick on the sofa at my old place, and I lost my deposit.”
“You lost your deposit because of the broken window.”
“You must remember him.”
“Is he the one who spoke about Proust for three hours before the unfortunate incident with the sofa?”
“ That’s the one. He was better than a bouncer for clearing parties. Anyway, I met Simon tonight, and I was telling him about your little problem.”
I groan. “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping it a secret?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t mention your name. I just said it was a friend. Anyway, I told him all about it, and he’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“He’ll fake marry you. It’s serendipity, sweetie. He’s an actor.”
“Have I seen him in anything?”
There’s a pause. “No, probably not. He’s not actually working as an actor at the moment.”
“What does he do, then?”
“He’s behind the counter at Greggs in Camden.”
“So, you want me to trust my future to an actor who’s not actually acting?”
“It’ll be fine.”
“It probably won’t.”
“And a bonus is that he always gets the leftovers from Greggs, so we’ll never run short of sausage rolls.”
I picture Simon. Then I picture spending several important hours of my life with Simon. “I hate to deprive you of a good sausage roll, but I’ve already solved the problem myself.”
“Artie, have you decided not to do it?” she says gently. “Because it’s fine if you have, sweetie.”
“No. Absolutely not. I still want to do this.”
“So what did you have in mind?”
I lick my lips. “Jed said he’d do it.”
There’s a pause. “Who?”
“My boss.”
“Sexy Jed said he’ll pretend to be your fake fiancé?”
“That’s the one. Surprise .”
“That’s an understatement.” She hesitates. “And you’re actually thinking of accepting his offer?”
“Well, it’s Jed.”
“But can he act?”
“He can do anything he puts his mind to,” I say with certainty. “And he’s never mentioned Proust, so that’s got to be a bonus.”
She snorts. “True.”
“What do you think?”
The noise of music fills the line for a few seconds. “You should do it,” she finally says firmly.
“Why?”
“Because you know Jed. You like Jed. And you sound confident about the idea, and I like that for you.”
I do? I ask silently. I clear my throat and say, “Yes.” Because I do know and like Jed—those are two things I can be entirely confident about.
She says goodbye, and I settle back against the door, shivering slightly at the cool air of the flat.
Daisy had seemed surprised I’d come up with a solution on my own. But had I actually done that? No. That had been Jed.
Nobody ever expects me to take charge. Part of that is my personality, and part of that is due to circumstances—my father’s weakness and my stepmother’s hatred. I’m sure Jed thinks I’ve fallen into the trap set by my stepmother, but he never knew Laura. She’d be horrified to think I’d played her game and won. The thought gives me a small thrill.
I pull out my phone and regard it thoughtfully. Spending more time with Jed—having him play this game with me—also gives me a thrill. One I should be wary of, but damn it, why shouldn’t I get some benefit from this absurd situation and spend time with someone who makes me feel good? It won’t hurt Jed. Once the reading of the will is done and the solicitors are happy, he’ll get on with his life, and I’ll have my house.
I find his contact picture. It’s one I’d rather creepily taken without him knowing at the office Christmas party. He’d been laughing at something Joe had said, and I’d snapped the picture. I’d cut Joe out of it without a shadow of guilt, and now Jed’s face stares back at me, his eyes alight and his handsome face soft with laughter, lacking for once its usual concentration and focus.
I press to connect the call.
“Artie?” he says in his deep voice that always makes me shiver. “Are you okay?”
It’s the concern in his tone that makes my decision final.
“I’m fine. Are you sure you want to do this?”
The line is silent for a second as he registers what I’m saying. However, his voice is as decisive as ever when he says, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. I want to help you.”
“Why?”
The answer is quick. “Because you’re a very good person who’s been dealt a shitty hand in life, but is still far too kind for his own good. And we’re only going to be married until the reading of the will. We’re getting an annulment once you get the house. I’m not plighting my troth for eternity,” he finishes wryly.
I wish you were , I think wistfully before shoving the thought far away.
“Then, if you don’t mind, I’d be very grateful for your help."
Three Weeks Later
The car pulls to a stop outside my flat, and Jed switches the engine off.
I wait but he doesn’t get out to open my door for me as usual—a habit that’s always secretly thrilled me. He stares ahead at the street as if fascinated by the view. There’s nothing there unless you count an old crisp packet dancing in the cool breeze. This summer has been a complete washout.
“Thanks for the lift,” I finally say.
He startles. “Oh, you’re welcome.”
His mind seems miles away from this car, and perhaps his thoughts of me are even further. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say huskily.
He puts a hand over mine. “Stay for a moment,” he says.
I swallow. He’s suddenly very close, his big body hard and warm. His fingers are long, and the calluses on his fingertips are thrillingly rough.
“Oh. Of-of course,” I stutter.
He pulls back but doesn’t make any effort to talk. Instead, he fidgets with the car heater so that it blows pleasantly against me.
“Your hands were cold,” he says.
“Thank you. It’s not been a nice summer, but I’m always cold anyway.”
I wait for him to say something else but get nothing. The silence is cosy, though, and the scent of his cologne and the underlying aroma that’s just Jed is warm and arousing.
I cough and then twist to face him, pulling my jacket over my lap. “What’s the matter?” I ask. “Is it about tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. We’re getting married tomorrow .
The thought is strange and thrilling.
He grimaces as if he’s inhaled a bad smell. “What could possibly be bothering me about getting married tomorrow?” he asks snappishly.
I draw back, astonished. We’ve had many meals together over the last three weeks, ironing out the details of how we met and our lives together in case we’re asked by the solicitor. The situation is far from ideal, but I can’t remember a time when Jed has ever snapped at me.
He groans and rubs his eyes tiredly. “I’m so sorry. That was rude.”
I make myself shrug. “It’s fine. You’re doing this for me, after all. You’re entitled to be cross at the upheaval in your life.”
“I’m not cross with you,” he says instantly. He reaches out and cups my chin in his hand, his gaze scanning my features. “I could never be cross with you,” he says with emphasis. “This is no more your fault than mine. We’re doing this together, and we’re a team, Artie. No more taking the blame for it and trying to make amends to me.”
“I haven’t…” I sag against the seat when he shoots me a knowing look.
“You’ve been extra sweet. An impossible task, because you were already ninety-nine percent sugar.”
I smile at him. “What about the other one percent?”
“Ah, that’s what worries me.”
We laugh and then fall silent.
“It’s not too late to back out, Jed,” I say. “No one knows, and I would never blame you.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve offered me more exits than the M1.”
Sweetheart? I widen my eyes.
He grimaces. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”
I’ll never be able to tell him how much I liked it. He’d vanish into a puff of smoke and angst. I don’t want to make this awkward. Well, any more awkward than it already is.
He’s been getting progressively antsier this week as the appointment at the registry office comes closer. Before I can second-guess myself, I take his hand and gaze into his eyes. “This is a serious thing, Jed. You’re lying to a solicitor to help me get a house under false pretences. That’s got to be either borderline or full-on illegal.” I take a breath. “I’ve been thinking?—”
“Nothing good usually comes from that statement.”
“It’s hardly surprising you think so, having met some of the men you’ve had passing through your flat.”
“ What ?”
I grimace. I hadn’t meant to say that. “I do meet them, you know.”
A flush appears on his cheeks, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. “How?”
“Well, I’ve made quite a few of them coffee, because according to them, you’re not exactly Starbucks.”
And I’ve hated every single one of them, but I’ll never tell him that. I’d only need half a Post-it to list the things I’d feel comfortable telling him at the moment.
“I haven’t been with anyone since we said we’d do this,” he says.
The words tumble out of him so quickly, I don’t understand him at first. “ Pardon?”
He runs his finger along the collar of his blue shirt. “There hasn’t been anyone in my bed since we started discussing this marriage. And there won’t be any until we’ve done what we set out to do.”
A weight falls from my shoulders. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Me seeing someone else would be rather counterproductive if the solicitor ever found out. We’re newlyweds, for god’s sake.” He frowns before adding, “And you shouldn’t see anyone while this is going on either.”
I consider telling him that my dry spell has lasted so long that I feel like a garden with a hosepipe ban in place. Instead, I say, “Of course not.”
He turns to face me. He’s very potent this close, all tousled hair and big muscles and celery-green eyes that see everything.
“I want to do this,” he says firmly. “I haven’t done anything I didn’t want to for a long time. I said I was going to help you, and I meant it, but we have to work as a team. If there’s a problem, I want you to come to me.”
“How is that any different from usual?”
He chuckles, but when he speaks, he sounds quite serious. “Well, this time you’re betting your house on it.”
“And I’m thankful for everything you’re doing. l don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
“You don’t ever need to do that,” he says abruptly.
“I’ll find a way.”
He looks down at my hand as though it holds the secrets of the universe. Then he fixes his gaze on mine again, and I suppress a sigh. I know what’s coming. He’s said it in various iterations since he’d proposed this arrangement a few weeks ago. The moment he thinks we’re getting on too well together, he battens down the hatches and runs for cover.
“But we’re still in agreement that this is all it can ever be,” he says earnestly.
Yes, here it is .
“I want you to think about this before tomorrow,” he continues. “I’ve been married before, and it wasn’t like this.” I hide my wince, and he carries on, doggedly eviscerating my feelings in the kindest way possible. “You’ve never been married before, Artie. You probably hoped for more than this, and that’s completely natural, but this thing between us is an arrangement, and like all of those, it has a start and an expiry date.”
Just what every young boy dreams about on his wedding eve.
I squeeze his hand. “Of course,” I say. “We’ll do this and then go back to normal when I know I’ve got the house. It’s only until the will is read and it’s all sorted.”
His face relaxes immediately—both my reward and my punishment. “Good. I just don’t want any crossed wires.” He brightens. “And you can move on immediately afterwards with no pesky feelings. Then you’ll be able to find the one you’re meant for.”
He races around to open my door, and I climb out.
“See you tomorrow,” he says. He hesitates and then pulls me into a tight hug. I inhale the musk of his cologne and the sweet scent of his shampoo. His big body is hard and warm against mine, and I wish we could stand like this forever, but he steps away after a too-short moment, of course.
“Bye,” he says. Before I can respond, he’s back in the car, starting the engine and pulling away without a second glance.
I stand in the street watching his taillights vanish into the gloom.
“Get over you?” I say with a huff of frustration. “Sometimes, Jed Walker, you’re an absolute fool .” I turn and walk into my flat. I wish it was as easy to leave my feelings behind.
I wake up the next morning to sunshine filling my room. I roll onto my back and stare up at the water stain on the ceiling. My stomach is full of nerves, but it takes me a few seconds to remember why. Then I sit bolt upright. I’m getting married today. To Jed.
I should be more concerned about the fact that I’m about to commit fraud against my family’s estate. I wonder if I’ve embarked down a slippery slope, and in a few months’ time I’ll be planning a bank robbery.
A knock on the door sounds and Daisy pops her head into the room. I smile at her.
She’s small, with a sweet face and very blue eyes. Her hair is currently red and purple. Last month it was pink, and the month before it was green. She’s a human colour wheel. She’s vivid and bright, and I loved her from the moment she and Laura arrived at my house.
Nothing that happened between her mum and me has ever affected our relationship, because it was firmly established at the beginning that Daisy would lead me into trouble. I always followed her happily, because she brought vibrancy into my dull life. She loves me, and the people who I can say that about are a small number. In fact, it’s just her.
“You’re awake,” she says delightedly and edges her way into the room carrying a tray. She sets it neatly on my lap. “Breakfast in bed.”
Croissants steam gently beside a pot of jam. “You didn’t have to do this.”
She winks at me. “It’s your wedding day, Artie. Otherwise known as phase one of sticking it to my mother. Of course I remembered.”
I look at the food and my stomach tumbles. “I’m not very hungry,” I say apologetically. “I’m so sorry.”
She shoots me a worried look. “You’re nervous.”
“Of course I am,” I burst out. “I’m about to marry a man to commit fraud and get a house.”
She rolls her eyes and perches cross-legged on the corner of my mattress. The sun plays over her sleeve of tattoos, and she looks like a tropical bird in the grey of my room.
“I knew this would happen. You’ve been too cool the last few weeks since I told you about the will and we devised this plan.”
You devised it , I think. I’m so boring it would never have occurred to me.
“You need to listen to me,” she continues. “You are not committing fraud.”
“I really sort of am.”
“Potato and potarto.”
“I do hope his majesty’s judicial system has heard of that defence, because otherwise, I’m stuffed.”
I chuckle as she pinches my leg under the duvet.
“You own that house,” she says. “It’s yours . Your mother left it to you. The bad person in this scenario is your dad who should have obeyed her wishes, but we’ll cut him some slack, because my mother’s vagina seems to have contained a very dark and powerful magic.”
I grimace. “I didn’t really want that image in my head today.”
She continues, undeterred. “As I was saying, the house is yours. You know if you contested the will they’d find in your favour because Laura obviously had more than a few bats flying around in her belfry. Therefore, you’re just circumventing the trouble of contesting the fucking stupid thing and saving Mr Davies the solicitor a lot of time and effort.”
“So, I’m the angel in this scenario?”
“You’re an angel in any scenario.”
“And that’s it? That’s your defence?”
“You know it’s true. It’s your property. My mother was just a caretaker for a while. Your mum left the house to you. You were always going to get it. You’ve just got to jump through a few hoops first.”
“Lying hoops.”
“Best not to think about that, babe. Just keep moving. It’ll be fine.”
I nod and then do it again when the first one lacks conviction. “She did leave it to me.”
“That’s the spirit. So, it’s all sorted. Let’s get you married.”
“You’re very blithe about the whole thing.”
She shrugs. “I’d be more concerned if it was a complete rando marrying you, but it’s Jed for god’s sake. Jed of the handsome face and nice forearms.”
“He does have very lovely arms.”
“He also seems to be an honourable man, and I think he’ll look after you. So, are you ready?”
I take a deep breath and set aside the breakfast tray. “Yes, let’s do it.”
I go to get out of bed and she grabs my hand. “Just be careful,” she whispers.
I frown at her. “You just did a whole Braveheart speech about it being above the law and a foregone conclusion, which by the way, I’ve recorded to play back for my solicitor when I’m arrested on charges of fraud.”
She grimaces. “Not about that .” She hesitates and I brace because it’s rare to see her so cautious. “I like Jed, but be very careful with him.”
“He’d never hurt me,” I say in astonishment. “He’s the gentlest man I’ve ever known.”
“Be careful with your heart, lovely.” She offers me a crooked smile. “It’s going to be very hard to be married to someone who you’re in love with but who doesn’t love you back.” I flinch and she makes a distressed sound and reaches out to hug me. I inhale the scent of roses that clings to her. It’s a curiously innocent smell. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I had to say it because I love you so much, and I don’t want you to be sad.”
“How did you know?”
She kisses my cheek and pulls back, holding tight to my hand. “Sweetie, it’s very obvious.”
“To him ?” I croak.
She shakes her head immediately, and I relax although I still feel hot with embarrassment. “No, of course not. Jed’s one of those blokes who can’t see what he doesn’t want to see.”
“And he doesn’t want to see my feelings?” I say, more for my own sake than hers.
“I don’t think he does,” she whispers. “He cares for you, sweetie. That was very obvious when I spoke to him before, but from what you’ve said he’s still in love with his husband.” I sigh and she pulls me into another hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ve never said anything before, because I didn’t think you’d get hurt by a one-sided affection, but the situation is different now.”
“Tell me again,” I request. “I need it.”
“Oh, Artie.” Her eyes glisten and her voice takes on the tiniest hint of a quiver. “He will never love you, sweetie, because he doesn’t see you like that. So, let him help you and get your home back. And then you can get on with your life and meet someone who will love you for who you are. You’re the best man I’ve ever known—kind, clever and just lovely . There is someone for you, but it’s not Jed Walker.”
Her words sting, and that’s how I know I needed that dose of reality. It’s been impossible to be with Jed over the last few weeks and not fall more in love with him. But my ultimate nightmare is for him to realise my feelings. I couldn’t abide pity and sympathetic kindness from him.
I nod and offer her a tiny smile. “This is the best marital pep talk I’ve ever heard. Next time maybe you should try auditioning for the Spanish Inquisition and cut out the middleman.”
She chuckles and pinches one of my croissants. “Let’s get you fake married and start you on the path to becoming someone’s bitch.”
“Daisy!”
“Too soon?”
“Probably.”
By the time the taxi pulls up at Chelsea Old Town Hall my nerves are out of control again. I rub my belly, peering at the steps leading up to the beautiful late Victorian building. “Oh god,” I groan.
Daisy pats my shoulder. “Let’s just get it done and out of the way.”
“Blimey, and they say romance is dead,” the cabbie says cheerfully.
Daisy snorts and I offer the cabbie a weak smile before scanning the steps again. Groups of people are waiting there dressed in bright clothes, wearing hats and smiley expressions. Through the open window of the cab, I hear excited chatter and laughter. Even the weather is cooperating with my fake wedding, as the sun is out, and the sky is blue.
“I can’t see him anywhere,” I say, searching the crowd. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart.”
“Don’t be silly.” Daisy grabs my chin and turns my face.
And there’s Jed. He’s leaning against a pillar, his hands in the pockets of his expensive grey three-piece suit. It’s the one I love that clings to his wide shoulders and long legs with a subtle check in the costly fabric. It makes his eyes look very green.
I swallow hard and look down at myself. I can’t afford hand tailoring like him, but my own navy suit isn’t too shabby. Daisy insisted on a new pink tie to celebrate the occasion.
“Oh, you look bloody gorgeous as usual,” Daisy says. She adjusts her hot-pink fascinator. “Never mind you, anyway. More importantly, how do I look?”
I snort. “Beautiful,” I say, offering her an affectionate look. She’s bright and bold, as usual, wearing a scarlet-coloured long silk dress and pink platform heels. I grab her hand. “I just want to say thank you.”
“Why?”
“For everything . My life would have been so dull without you.”
Her eyes shine wetly, and she kisses my cheek. “I love you so much. You’ll always be my brother.” Then she winks and leans close. “And as your sister I promise to bake you a cake with a file in it when you end up in prison. You can share it with your cellmate, and when I come to visit you, he can say things like, ‘He belongs to me now.’”
“That was alarmingly detailed.”
“It’s my curse to have a vivid imagination.”
“And unfettered morals.”
I grin as she pinches me. My smile fades as I turn my gaze towards Jed again. “Let’s do this,” I say with determination.
“That’s the Great British spirit.”
We pay the driver and step out of the car and as we climb the steps, I feel like I’m standing to one side observing this scene. I’m about to marry my boss. Jed— Jed —will soon be my husband.
Jed glimpses us, and for a second, he seems to freeze, a host of expressions crossing his face. Then he smiles. It looks a little forced, but I don’t think Daisy notices.
She grins at him. “Good morning.”
He leans down to hug her. “You look absolutely stunning.”
She glows, and I shoot him a grateful look. He offers me a wry expression, letting Daisy go and stepping close to me. “And you look very nice too,” he says. His eyes are dark, and I smile nervously at him.
“Are we ready?” he asks, looking at his watch. “Our appointment is in five minutes.”
Appointment? I conceal my wince because that’s exactly what this is.
Someone calls my name. I turn and my mouth drops open in amazement. Raff, Joe, and Ingrid are climbing the steps towards us.
“Oh shit,” Jed mutters.
I look at him and then back at our friends. “Who told them?”
“Not me,” he says grimly. Then he forces a smile to his face as they come up next to us. “To what do we owe this honour?”
“You sly old dog,” Raff proclaims, clapping Jed on the shoulder.
“Why are you here?” Jed asks calmly.
Joe gestures to Ingrid. “She knows everything.”
Ingrid grins. “I saw your banns announcement.” She looks between us, her face full of excitement. “Is it true? Are you really getting married?”
Jed shrugs, his face enigmatic.
“Yes,” I tell Ingrid.
She squeals loud enough to deafen everyone on the steps. “I knew it. I knew there was something going on.”
Jed and I exchange a look. “What do you mean?” Jed asks cautiously.
“Well, all those secret glances and the way you’re so protective of him.” She squeals again and claps her hands. “I knew you were desperately in love with him.”
Jed looks slightly revolted, and I have a wild impulse to laugh. Worry that it might turn into hysterics has me swallowing it down.
“Well, you kept that quiet, you old dog,” Raff says.
Jed grimaces. “If you call me that again I will sack you.”
Raff snorts. “Ah, I see you have attained that ecstatic state of pure happiness. How I envy you and hope for the same of my own marriage.”
“Good god,” Jed mutters.
Raff winks. “Anyway, Ingrid told us, and we thought you’d need witnesses, it being all hush-hush and everything.”
“Yes, it was so hush-hush that I’ve ended up with half my office here,” Jed says. “And please don’t wink at me in that fashion, Rafferty. You look deranged.”
Raff gives a dramatic sigh. “How misunderstood I am. And me bringing gifts and everything.”
“What do you mean?” I ask warily.
Raff clicks his fingers at Joe, and Joe stares at him. “What?”
“The thingies,” Raff hisses. “Where are they?”
“What are you talking about, and please don’t click your fingers at me like I’m a horse.”
“If you were a horse, you’d be a very forgetful one. The boutonnières.” He gestures at me and Jed. “I told you they wouldn’t have them.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Jed asks.
“Well, the hole-in-the-wall manner of your marital shenanigans.” He shoots Jed a surprisingly reproving glance. “Poor Artie.”
“Oh no,” I say. Without thinking, I take the flower he hands me. I sneeze. Then I sneeze three more times in quick succession. “Sorry,” I manage before sneezing again.
Rolling his eyes, Jed takes the flower from me and hands it back to Raff. “Thank you so much for your help. I’m sure that Artie is grateful for your wedding gift of snot.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box and hands it to me. “For you.”
I gape at him. “ Really ?”
His expression softens. “Yes, really.” He becomes aware that everyone is staring at us, and his face reddens. “Open it.”
I smile at him and open the box and then gasp in astonishment. “Oh my god .”
“What is it?” Raff asks, jostling closer.
Jed pushes Raff’s face back gently. “I had a Labrador like you once.”
“Was he very intelligent and the best Labrador in the whole wide world?”
“No, he was nosy and incontinent when excited.”
Ingrid laughs. “The similarities are uncanny.”
“What is it?” Joe asks, his voice quieter than the others’.
I reach into the box and pull out a paper flower. It’s a white calla lily, the lines graceful and elegant.
Jed smiles at me, his eyes softening again. “A paper flower for your boutonnière.”
“It’s so beautiful,” I say. He takes it from my palm and fastens it to my lapel with the pin that’s attached. He fiddles with it, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he concentrates. This close, I can smell his fabric softener and feel the warmth of his body.
He freezes as he catches my gaze. “Thank you,” I say softly.
His eyes flare warm and bright. Then he steps back and blanches when he sees everyone staring at him.
“That’s a wonderful gesture,” Raff says approvingly.
Ingrid clasps her hands. “It’s going to be so funny at the office now you’re married.”
I turn a panicked gaze to Jed. His eyes are wide. This marriage was supposed to be just between us and last only for a couple of weeks. Now all our coworkers know. What should we do?
I startle as Jed pulls me into a hug. “We’ll worry about it later,” he whispers into my ear. “Just play along and act madly in love.”
I shiver at the feel of his warm breath on my neck and nod. “Absolutely.” No playacting needed .
He steps back. “Okay?” he asks, his eyes lingering on my face. I think about what Ingrid had said about secret glances and protective looks, and then quickly dismiss those thoughts as wishful thinking I do not need right now.
“I am ready,” I say firmly.
Jed reaches for a box by his feet. “There’s one for everyone,” he says.
“How did you know we were coming?” Raff asks, retrieving a paper boutonnière from the bag.
“Rafferty, you and Joe have a knack of turning up uninvited more times than syphilis. You are both incurably nosy, and Ingrid enables you. Of course, you’d be here.”
Raff shrugs. “Fair point.”
“Where did you get these?” Daisy asks as she fastens the flower to her dress. Her face is soft and her eyes shining as she looks at Jed.
He coughs, suddenly awkward. “I made them,” he says gruffly as everyone stares at him. “Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbles.
“You made them?” Ingrid echoes.
“Yes, of course. Artie’s allergic to real flowers.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t difficult once you got the hang of it. Gave me something to do with my hands in the evening.”
“Have you tried masturbation?” Rafferty enquires in a serious voice. He squarks as Ingrid shoves him.
I ignore them with the ease of long practice. I’m almost unbearably touched that this gruff man has spent time painstakingly making these flowers, and I know it took him a while, as his perfectionist nature would demand they be absolutely right.
“They’re perfect,” I say softly, reaching out for his flower and beckoning him closer. I fasten it quickly to his lapel, very aware of the power of his big body under my hands.
“Alright?” he says softly. “You sure?”
“Of course.” I smile at him. “Thank you,” I say and step back.
“Let’s get these crazy kids married,” Raff exclaims.
Jed grimaces. “Please, just no.”
Ingrid fiddles with her dress. “What do you think of my tan?” she asks me.
Joe snorts, and I’m able to look at Ingrid closely now my panic is over. My eyes widen. She’s very orange. Almost the colour of a satsuma. Even her eyebrows are a strange browny-orange that makes her look like she’s been embalmed.
“Tell me the truth. Does this spray tan make me look too orange?” she says to Raff.
Raff tilts his head. “Put it this way. If Tim Burton asks you to put on a pair of little white overalls and a green wig, it’s your destiny calling.”
“Fucker,” she says morosely. “Erin was supposed to put East End Brick on me, but she used the wrong shade.”
“It looks more like Camden Creosote to me,” Raff says thoughtfully.
Ingrid sighs. “Oh well. She says she’ll give me a spa voucher to say sorry.”
Joe shakes his head. “What will she do for that? Break your back instead of giving you a spine massage?”
Raff laughs and we make our way up the steps and into the registry office.
I work for a wedding-planning company, so it stands to reason that I’ve had vague thoughts about my own wedding. I’d imagined me and my bridegroom exchanging misty smiles and staring into each other’s eyes. Instead, the whole ceremony is alarmingly businesslike and passes in a dream. I’m aware of my voice saying the words and Jed’s deep tones doing the same, but everything else is just impression—the registrar’s soft voice, Jed’s hand warm in mine, the green pools of his eyes, and the seriousness of his gaze.
The only time I come out of this haze is when he produces the rings. They’re simple gold bands and it’s only then that I realise Jed isn’t wearing his ring from Mick. I shoot a shocked glance at him, but he studiously avoids looking at me.
Before I know it, the registrar pronounces us husband and husband, and it’s done. “You may kiss the groom,” she intones.
For a few seconds, Jed and I stare at each other. His eyes are very dark, and he raises one eyebrow queryingly.
I incline my head slightly and, as he leans in, I feel his mouth on mine for the first time. His beard prickles slightly, but his lips are full and soft, and I part my own lips instinctively. He stiffens and then his breath quickens, and I feel his tongue touch mine. Lust rolls over me like a tsunami, and I make a sound in my throat as our tongues tangle. It’s only when I feel the fabric of his suit crumpling under my fingers that I realise I’ve grabbed his shoulders to pull him closer.
He seems to jerk awake, his hands coming up to clutch my arms, probably to stop me from throwing myself at him anymore. He steps back, distress darkening his face.
My breath catches as an explosion of confetti cascades around us. When it clears, his face is calmer, no sign of turmoil. But I’d seen it, and my heart sinks.
The next few minutes are spent accepting hugs and loud congratulations and then we’re outside in the warm sunshine. Jed has his arm around me, but I know it’s for appearances’ sake. His body is rigid and his arm trembles slightly.
“So that’s done,” I say to him quietly.
His smile is too quick, and I realise that’s the way I felt about the entire event. Of course, I’d imagined my wedding would be more, but none of this is real, is it?
“We’re going to Rosa,” Jed says, naming one of my favourite Italian restaurants.
“Really?”
This time his smile is real and very kind. “Did you really think I wouldn’t mark this day, Artie?”
I grab his hand. “Thank you.”
“No need for that,” he says softly. “I like doing things for you.”
My heart rises up towards him. There’s nobody who can say that with as much truth as Jed. “And I like saying thank you.”
“I hope you’ll always be glad we did this,” he says solemnly.
A chill runs over my skin, as if he’s invited a spectre to our feast.
The meal is loud and full of laughter. The champagne flows, and Jed refills my glass repeatedly as everyone tries to outdo each other with wild speeches. I feel the fizz bubbling along my veins, and later I’ll blame the champagne for the happiness that seizes me.
I’m married to the man I love, and the increasingly raunchy and funny toasts make it seem as though we all are, in fact, celebrating that love and a real marriage. All my senses are tuned to Jed and how he sits so close, with his arm slung over my chair, his tie loosened, and his hair ruffled.
Occasionally, he’ll stroke the shiny new band on his finger. And as the meal progresses, I begin to notice signs that he’s not processing the scene the same happy way that I am. His face becomes more guarded, and a muscle in his jaw tics. He’s flushed from champagne, but instead of making him loud like the rest of us, he’s become increasingly quieter.
My stomach flips when he removes his arm from my chair. I note that his eyes are dark, and his face shadowed. He drains his glass, and I exchange a look with Daisy.
She presses her lips together, gives me a quick nod, and stands. “Well, I’m sure the happy couple have things to do.”
Everyone catcalls. Well, Raff does, but they all stand up, taking their cue.
The next few minutes are spent exchanging hugs.
“You go so well together,” Ingrid proclaims. “I knew it.”
Daisy is the last to hug me. “Take care,” she says, and I know she’s referring to her earlier warning. I nod and whisper goodbye before she leaves.
Then Jed and I are alone.
He collapses into his chair, which is so unlike his usual controlled grace that it rattles me. He looks ahead, seemingly determined not to meet my eyes.
I settle cautiously at his side. “Jed?”
His gaze whips to mine. His earlier control has gone, and in his eyes is pure pain.
I swallow hard. “Oh, Jed,” I whisper. “I?—”
“I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do what?”
“This.” He gestures at the table and the empty glasses. “I need to go.”
“Go where?” We’re supposed to go to a hotel. I’d booked us a suite at his insistence in case anyone ever checks up on us. He’d joked that it was like being the James Bond of the fake marriage market, but he is not in a joking mood anymore.
“Tell me,” I urge.
He blurts, “I can’t be here with you like this. You’re not Mick and this feels so wrong .”
I abruptly wish he hadn’t told me anything. And that I hadn’t insisted on an explanation. I desperately try to keep the dismay from my face, but I don’t need to worry. He’s looking anywhere but at me, running shaking hands through his hair.
“I need to be somewhere else,” he says.
I tamp down my hurt. I have no right to feel it, after all. “I know,” I whisper. “It’s fine, Jed.” He finally looks at me, his eyes fever bright with pain. “ Go ,” I say more forcefully.
“I’ll pay for the meal.”
“Never mind that,” I say steadily. “It’s on me.”
He stands quickly, and I watch as he leaves the restaurant in long strides as if he’s running away. Running away from me. And then he’s gone, and I’m left alone with the detritus of our wedding breakfast around me.
My eyes are hot, but I swallow any rising tears and take a deep breath. I finger the paper flower on my lapel. Jed always looks after me, and I need to do the same for him.
I take a sip of my champagne and grimace. It’s flat and warm now, the bubbles long gone. Rather appropriate.