Chapter Twelve #2
A few days ago, she signed the prenup in my lawyer’s office.
I refused to be there. I hated that we had to have one.
At her urging, it included the clause that said if we part, she’ll only accept money for any offspring we produce.
After she’d signed it, I added my signature, almost pressing my pen through the paper because I was so angry.
No relationship should be entered into with an acknowledgement of what might happen if you break up.
And I didn’t want to see her plans in black and white.
She’s still worried she picked the wrong brother. And all I can do is try to prove that I am her Mr. Right, and that I intend to keep that title indefinitely.
*
The following day, my feet barely touch the ground.
I’m flat out at the office, trying to get everything ready for the week I’m taking off for the honeymoon.
In between meetings and, you know, trying to get work done when I’m distracted with thoughts of my fiancée becoming my wife, I take calls from my mother, Aurelia, and Wren herself about the wedding.
Mum’s hired an event organizer, but she’s having a whale of a time getting stuck into it with her, as this is the first time one of her children has tied the knot, and for some reason she seems to think I want to have the final say on everything.
After the third call in a row about the color of the serviettes, I say, “Mum, I don’t give a damn about anything as long as Wren turns up on the day,” and she laughs and promises to leave me alone unless there’s something that definitely needs my input.
Under my insistence, Wren visits the house in Stanley Point with the real estate agent. I can’t join her because I have back-to-back meetings, but when she calls to say she loves the place, I’m more than happy to tell the real estate agent to go ahead with an offer.
The weather forecast looks good, and the RSPVs are coming in thick and fast. Everyone wants to attend what Kōrero is calling ‘the surprise wedding of the year’.
Tonight, Aurelia has organized a hen party for Wren and her friends, something small at a local bar, which Wren is terrified about, but I’m sure she’ll secretly enjoy it once she gets there.
Neither Caesar nor I are particularly into parties, and I have no desire for a crazy stag night, but Huxley invites us to the Midnight Club for what he promises will be a restrained and civilized gathering of some of our best friends, which I’m happy to attend.
Sure enough, he keeps to his promise, and we have a fun-filled evening with a few games and lots of whiskey, but thankfully there are no strippers or incidents involving traffic cones.
When my driver drops me off at my city apartment, I’m merry but not comatose, and I fall into bed with a growing sense of excitement.
I’m getting married in two days. Tomorrow, I’ll be seeing Wren—we’re not having a formal rehearsal dinner, but we are meeting with the event organizer for an informal run-through.
I’ve spoken to Wren several times, and I text her a lot, but I’ve tried to keep my distance after our intense kiss at my parents’ house.
I’m nervous about freaking her out too much.
Deep down, part of me fears she won’t be able to go through with the wedding, and she either won’t turn up, or she’ll back out at the last minute. I haven’t raised this with her, or mentioned it to anyone else, but it’s there beneath the surface, like a riptide waiting to pull me under.
Feeling a frisson of unease, I pick up my phone and compose a text. It’s nearly one a.m. Will she be home from the hen party? And if so, will she still be awake? I send the message, half expecting her not to reply.
Me: How did the evening go? You awake?
To my relief, she replies within a couple of minutes
Wren: Helloooooo! I’m here, and awake, but probably not for long, I’m in my pjs and drinking water coz of all the wine coz your sister kept filling up my glass
I chuckle, relieved she seems happy.
Me: I’m so glad you had a good time
Wren: How about you? Are you plastered?
Me: Merry
Wren: Ohhhhh I wish I could speak to merry Mars
Smiling, I dial her number. She answers it in two rings.
“That made me jump,” she says, her voice breathless.
“Hey babe. So you had a good time?”
“Aw, you don’t sound drunk. I thought you were going to be major waffly and slurry.”
“Nah. No slurring and just a little waffle.”
“With maple syrup?”
I chuckle. “Definitely.”
She blows out a breath. “Are we really getting married in two days?”
“Well, I’m going to be there. The rest is up to you.” I stare out of the window. The moon is on the other side of the building, and the Crux constellation is clear in the night sky—four sharp stars, tilted in the dark.
I massage the bridge of my nose with two fingers. I’m tired, and for once I’m not watching what I say. Is she unsure how to reply? I know the way I reacted after her father turned up freaked her out.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I tell her.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“No… but I could have handled it better. It frightened me.”
“I know.”
“I thought he’d scared you away.”
“I’ve bought the dress,” she points out.
I wait for her to reassure me that she’ll be there. But she falls quiet.
I guess I won’t know if she’ll turn up until the moment comes.
Then, to my surprise, a message arrives, containing a photo.
I open it. She’s taken a selfie. She’s lying on her back on the bed, same as me, dressed in pink pajamas. Her blonde hair is spread out on the pillow. She’s taken off her makeup, and her face looks flushed and fresh. This is how she’s going to look when we go to bed together. She’s stunning.
Without saying anything, I take a selfie and send it to her. The duvet is pushed down to my boxers so I’m bare-chested.
“Oh…” She sighs. “Look at you.”
“A bit of a mess, I’m afraid.”
“Mmm. You look… sleepy.”
“Yeah.”
“Look at those biceps.”
My lips curve. “Two days, Wren. Then you can feel them for yourself.”
“Are you trying to give me a coronary before my big day?”
I chuckle. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow, three p.m., right?”
“Yeah. Goodnight, Mars.”
“Night.”
I end the call. I was tempted to say, ‘I love you,’ but I know she wouldn’t say it back, and it might freak her out even more.
Sighing, I toss my phone onto the bed and roll onto my side. Two more days. How on earth am I going to be able to wait?