Chapter Eight #2
The following day, Marcus turns up, as he said he would, at exactly twelve p.m. Clare has already left for the airport, and I’m sitting there all dressed and ready on my sofa with a racing heart when he rings the bell.
I answer the door and say, “Not today, thank you.”
He grins. Then his gaze skims down me, and he says, “Wow.”
I glance down. “Is this suitable attire for meeting the parents?” I’m wearing a sleeveless cream dress with pale orange flowers and light green leaves.
It has a crossover bodice and a floaty, knee-length skirt.
I’ve paired it with a pair of flat cream sandals.
“You’re wearing jeans. It’s too dressy. I should have worn trousers. I’ll get changed.”
He catches my hand as I go to walk away, and laughs. “Wren. You look stunning, babe. That dress is gorgeous. Come on.”
I let him pull me outside and close the door behind me. “Have you told them I’m coming?”
“I have. They remember you. They’re looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Have you told them we’re getting married?”
“Not yet.” He chuckles. “I thought I’d save that bombshell for when I can see the look on their faces. My mother is going to explode with excitement.”
“Oh God. You should have told them. What if they both look horrified?”
“Sweetheart, they’re going to be absolutely thrilled that I’m finally being responsible for once in my life.” He unlocks the Bentley as we walk up to it, leads me around to the passenger side, and opens the door.
“No chauffeur?” I ask.
“I don’t make the staff work on public holidays. And anyway, I enjoy driving.” He waits for me to get in, then closes the door.
I settle back into the seat. The interior is all dark-gray carbon fiber, polished wood, and cream leather. I know it would smell masculine even if the scent of Marcus’s cologne didn’t linger in the air. I feel as if I’ve stepped into the mouth of a big cat.
He walks around the car and gets in. “Buckle up,” he says, and he clips his seat belt in.
I do the same with shaking hands. There’s something about being in a car together that’s so…
intimate. Our arms brush when I accidentally rest mine on the central armrest. I glance at him as he starts the car.
He’s so comfortable and at home amongst all this wealth.
Will I ever feel relaxed and not as if I’ve stepped into a James Bond movie?
He puts the car into reverse and turns to look over his shoulder, resting his arm on the back of my seat as he backs up.
He’s wearing a blue-and-white-striped linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Even paired with the jeans, he looks as if he should be on a yacht, sipping champagne and eating caviar.
He’s recently shaved, judging by the smoothness of his jaw, and his hair is damp at the temples again, the same way it was on Christmas Eve, and yesterday. He showers before he comes to see me. For me? Surely not. He must just freshen up before he goes out.
If I leaned close, I could kiss him. I don’t. But I could, because he’s mine.
As he turns back, he sees me looking at him. His lips curve up, and he winks at me before putting the car into Drive and heading down the road.
“Have Clare and Ben left?” he asks.
“Yes. After an evening of being grilled like a cheese sandwich.”
He chuckles. “You told her we were getting married?”
“Well, she guessed something was up from the way I was struggling to form sentences.”
He glances at me. “How much did you tell her?”
“I didn’t say it was a marriage of convenience.”
“Because it’s not.”
“No… because…” I hesitate. “I’m not sure why. I just don’t want everyone to know, that’s all.”
“Did she know you’ve been to a fertility clinic?”
“No. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Not your mum?”
“Definitely not my mum.”
“No friends?”
“No.”
“I thought all women told their girlfriends everything.”
“I have a lot of friends. But I’m a private person, I guess.”
“Did you make any close friends in Australia?”
“Not that I could confide in.”
“That must have made it hard when you broke up with Cory.”
I look out of the window. “Yeah, it was very tough. I’m not sure I ever adjusted to being in a new country. I felt… adrift. I didn’t want to stay, but it was hard to come back. It felt like a failure.”
“Life’s all about chapters. They come to an end, and you have to turn the page and move on. You didn’t fail at anything. He cheated on you.” His voice is hard. “I admire you for having the courage to leave him and move back to New Zealand. I’m glad you did.”
For some reason, his words make tears prick at my eyes. I swallow hard and clear my throat. “So… what should I expect today?”
“Well, a thousand questions, obviously. It’s entirely up to you how you want to answer them.”
“Will Caesar be there?”
“Yes, and Aurelia. It’s just lunch. Very informal.”
“My definition of informal is eating baked beans out of the tin in my pajamas while watching Bridget Jones for the hundredth time. I’m guessing your definition is a bit different.”
“A tad. But I’d like to see your pajamas.”
“I bet you would.” I roll my eyes as he chuckles. “Where do they live now?”
“Takapuna. On the coast.”
“Where’s the old family farm again?”
“Down in the Waikato. I was thinking…” He pauses. “About our honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?” I hadn’t even thought of that.
“It’s up to you. We can go wherever you like. Costa Rica, Italy, the Maldives…”
“Oh my God.”
“Or… we could go to the farm.” He glances at me.
My lips slowly curve up. “Really?”
“Yeah. We’ve had the farmhouse fully renovated. I love going there. And I’d like to show you where it all began.”
It’s clear how much it means to the family, and I’m touched he’d consider taking me there. I much prefer the idea of going somewhere relaxed and close to home than some exotic resort. “I’d like that a lot.”
He smiles. “Okay. I’ll tell Dad today and get it organized.
You’ll like the farmhouse.” He starts telling me how they’ve had the kitchen refitted.
I listen, trying not to glow at the fact that he understands how nervous I’d be going somewhere upmarket.
He gets me, maybe more than Cory ever did in all the time we were together. How strange.
It only takes fifteen minutes to get there.
The Ashford house sits right on Takapuna Beach, its glass walls reflecting the afternoon sun.
Marcus pulls up out the front, and we get out and walk toward the house.
Beyond the terrace, I can see the Hauraki Gulf stretching toward Rangitoto, the great volcanic island rising dark and perfect from the water.
He takes my hand, and I don’t argue, feeling as if I need to wear his support like armor. He rings the doorbell, and I nibble my fingernail, wondering if a butler is going to answer.
The door opens, revealing not a butler, but Edward Ashford himself. “Hey,” he says, his eyes almost disappearing into a dozen wrinkles as he smiles. “Come in, come in.”
Wow, he’s so like his son, not quite as tall, but with the same facial structure and similar brown eyes, a shade darker than Marcus’s. It’s easy to see where his sons get their air of wealth and confidence.
“Wren,” he says, holding out his hand. As I slide mine into his, he closes his other hand over the top. “How lovely to see you again.”
“Hello.” His warm smile makes me feel instantly welcome. “It’s nice to see you, too. It’s been a while.”
“Yes it has. We were just talking about that day we all spent on the beach just after you and Caesar had graduated.” He releases me and turns to his son. “Hey, boy.”
“Hey.” Marcus exchanges a bearhug with his father, which is nice to see.
“Wren!”
I turn to see Cece Ashford coming out of the living room. She’s tiny, like her daughter, and fine boned. She used to have the longest red hair I’ve ever seen, but I presume she lost most of it during chemo, because it’s now cropped very short. It suits her, though.
“Hello!” We exchange kisses on the cheek, me having to bend to reach her.
“I’d forgotten how tall you are,” she exclaims. “You look well, though. I was so excited to hear Marcus was bringing you today.”
Marcus gives his mother a big hug, which is super sweet. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“Lord knows I’ve waited long enough,” she says. “Come on, love, let me show you around.”
I’ve waited long enough? What did she mean by that?
She takes me on a tour of the house, which has floor-to-ceiling windows, wide decks, and fantastic views of Rangitoto Island, Auckland’s youngest volcanic island at—she tells me—six hundred years old.
The five bedrooms are spacious and beautifully decorated in pastel colors.
There’s a small gym. Edward has a large office.
Cece has what she calls her reading room, the bookshelves filled with romances and mysteries, which she uses for her apparently well-known Bookstagram account, which I immediately follow.
“Something I took up when I couldn’t work,” she says, brushing a hand over the spines before leading me out.
“Marcus told me you’d been unwell,” I say softly as we walk slowly back to the living room. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sometimes I think it’s tougher for everyone else than for the person with the disease,” she says. “The family took it hard, and it completely floored Edward. You know he’s planning to retire?”
“Yes, Marcus said.”
“He keeps saying he regrets working so hard all these years and not spending more time with me, but he’s done such great things, and he’s provided a secure future for my children. What mother wouldn’t want that?”
Exactly, I think, as we walk in. I understand perfectly.
The main living area is large and open, with plush carpets, white walls, and a variety of large, beautiful paintings. A gorgeous stained-glass picture of a Māori goddess by local artist Marama Cavendish hangs in one window, casting colored patterns across the floor.
The rest of the family is here, sitting on the light-gray sofa and chairs, chatting as they wait for us to arrive. “Here she is,” Marcus says as we walk in, and he gets up to greet me, sliding his arm around my waist.
“Hello,” I say to Caesar, who responds with a smile and a wink. I hope Marcus has asked him not to mention my request.
“Hey, Wren!” Aurelia gets up to give me a hug. She looks very different today, young and pretty in navy cut-downs and a white top, and with her red hair piled on top of her head, curls tumbling around her face like a Greek goddess.
I shiver at Marcus’s touch on my waist, and he murmurs in my ear. “Are you cold? Can I get you a sweater?”
“N-no, I’m okay, thanks.”
He kisses my cheek, and my blush deepens. Cece spots it, and something like surprise flickers on her brow. Oh God. She’s guessed that I’m not used to his touch. She knows something’s awry.
Don’t panic, I tell myself, but it’s impossible not to. If his parents find out this marriage is fake, they’ll assume it’s because I’m after his money. The thought of upsetting them like that fills me with horror. The sooner we draw up the prenup, the better.
It’s not about money at all, I remind myself.
We’re both getting something out of this.
A baby. Marcus told me to keep thinking about the child, and that’s what I’m going to do.
God willing that I can get pregnant, Marcus will have his heir, Edward will have his legacy, and I’ll have a child.
It’ll be a permanent, beautiful by-product of a messy situation, and providing I can keep my heart intact, all this will have been worth it.