This Woman Forever

Chapter 5

I never anticipated not enjoying my wedding day. To be honest, I didn’t consider all the things that come with actually getting married, I only thought about the significance of it. Husband. Wife. And all of the natural progressions that come with those titles. Dealing with a wedding planner, in-laws, guests, photographs, and endless other things has made my day painful. I just want Ava—all to myself. I’ve flexed on what I’ve wanted, pacified Elizabeth, had official photographs when I’d rather catch my own—natural, unposed Ava being Ava in real life—chatted to people I don’t even fucking know, and silently observed the tension between Ava’s brother and Kate. It’s been far from my favorite day spent with Ava, because despite being handcuffed to her, I’ve spent absolutely no time with her.

After reluctantly being pulled around and positioned for photographs, I’m forced to free her so she can have some individual shots. I’m not happy, but I use the opportunity to get my own photos, clicking away, catching her between poses, natural. Beautiful. I lower my mobile and then my eyes to her tummy as she turns her body to the left, almost looking over her shoulder at the camera.

Yes? No? I don’t fucking know. And it’s driving me insane. I know she’s not had a period, and I know it’s due any day. When the fuck will we actually talk about this? But talking will inevitably lead to the admission that I’ve taken her pills. Am I ready to confess what we both know? Confirm what she fears? I blow out my cheeks, raking a hand through my hair. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, and now as I stand here looking at my wife, I feel more ashamed than ever before. I tried to trap her when I absolutely didn’t need to. She loves me.

I see Elizabeth and Tessa moving in on Ava, ready to claim her for the next duty. No. Not again.

I hurry over and muscle past them, handcuffing Ava to me again before Elizabeth can take advantage of the fact that she’s free. Scooping her up, raising my brows at my wife’s amusement, I carry her back into The Manor with Elizabeth chasing my heels demanding compliance.

“You need to learn to share,” I call back, taking the stairs two at a time, Ava bouncing in my arms. I push my way into our suite, shoulder the door shut, get her on the bed, and crowd her. “Quiet time.” Finally. I kiss her gently and burrow into her neck, smelling her sweet perfume.

“You want to snuggle?” she asks, cluing me in on where she thought this was going. Or hoping. Fucking.

“I do,” I breathe across her skin. “I want to snuggle with my wife. Are you going to deny me?”

“No.”

“Good,” I grunt. “Our marriage is getting off to the best start, then.”

She sighs, accepting, and lets me have my moment with her beneath me, every part of us touching. It should be peaceful. It’s not. My mind won’t shut the fuck up.

I feel her chest expand with an inhale, and I hold my breath, waiting for her words. Is this the moment she’ll be brave? “Will you do something for me?” she asks, a definite tinge of anxiety in her voice.

She shouldn’t be anxious. We’ve got this. We’re a team.

“Anything,” I whisper across the skin of her neck. She pulls me from my hiding place, looking directly into my eyes. “What do you want, baby?” I’ll do anything.

“Can you please resist talking to Patrick about Mikael?” she asks quietly. I have to hold back my dismay. That’s what she’s been thinking about? Her boss? Her job? While I’ve been lying here contemplating life-changing stuff, worrying about how Ava will deal with this, how I will ever justify my actions, she’s been considering her career? Well, doesn’t that put things into perspective for me? My patience is wearing thin. I appreciate I’m the cause of this situation—and note how I call it a situation, not a mess—and Ava didn’t ask for this, but... my God, are we going to tiptoe around it forever? Jesus Christ, a baby might be arriving. What will we do, pretend it’s not here?

“I agreed not to visit Patrick if you spoke with him,” I mutter. Fucking work. “And I don’t believe you have.” This is what Ava does. Tells me—and probably herself—that she’s going to deal with things. And doesn’t.

“Give me until Monday,” she says, her voice pleading. “I’ll talk to him on Monday.”

She shouldn’t be going to work on Monday. We should be going on a honeymoon. Finding out if she’s pregnant. “Monday,” I agree as she gazes at me with grateful eyes. Will she have braved opening up to me by Monday too? “I mean it, Ava. You’ve got till Monday. Then I’m stepping in.”

She nods, assertive. “Okay.”

Why the fuck is work the first thing on her fucking mind? “Monday,” I mutter and put my face back in her neck. “And when do I get to take you away?”

“I did warn you if you wanted to marry me so quickly, there would be no honeymoon for a while. You accepted that, remember?”

How could I forget? “So when am I going to get my wife all to myself?” Today has been a chore. I need peace, quiet, space, and Ava. “When am I going to be able to love her?”

“You always love me. When I’m not working, I’m with you. And you text and call me often enough, so I’m technically connected to you all day, anyway.”

I don’t agree. “I want you to give up,” I say, testing those waters again. “Be a lady of leisure.”

She laughs under her breath. “How would I be a lady of leisure if I’m permanently nailed to you?”

“Okay,” I whisper, resorting to my usual tried and tested tactics, grinding myself into her, smiling when she stiffens. “Be a lady of pleasure, then.” Just look at her cheeks, instantly flushed.

“Ward.” She’s breathless, her hands holding my upper arms. “You are not taking me now.” Oh, please. Not a few moments ago she was surprised I wanted to snuggle. Now she’s going to be all coy?“Anyway, we should get downstairs before my mum comes in search of us.”

Let her. I don’t mind giving her an eyeful of my arse as I take Ava from behind. Gently, of course. I do know, however, Ava will. “Your mother is a pain in the fucking arse.”

She laughs, loud and in disbelief. “Don’t wind her up, then.”

Wind her up? My trampling has been very mild. I don’t mind dialing it up if necessary. “She needs to accept who has the power,” I mumble as I get us up, reattaching the cuffs.

“You’re touching me,” she says tiredly. “Of course you have the power.” I grin when she tries and fails to take her hand from mine before I can secure her to me. Too slow, baby. Way too slow.

“I’m sorry,” I muse, thoughtful, casual, jiggling our joined wrists. “Who has the power?”

“You can have the power for today,” she mutters.

“You’re being very reasonable.” I’m suspicious. And still really fucking horny. I dip and steal another kiss, plunging my tongue deeply. “Hmmm, you taste delicious, Mrs. Ward.” Even more delicious now she’s my wife. And the sound of her name? Perfect. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she says on a breathy whisper, giving me all of the signs. But rather than take her and indulge her, I find my untamable curiosity overpowering my untamable desire, and my hand lifts without instruction, laying on her tummy. She jerks but doesn’t move away. I inhale. She’s letting me feel her. What does that mean?

Flexing my fingers, I circle my touch, breathing in, searching my mind for the right words, a way to break the screaming silence. Is she?

I don’t get the chance to ask. Ava moves away and my hand falls, but my eyes remain on her lace-covered stomach, silently begging her to speak to me. Trust me. Believe me when I tell her I did it for us.

“Come on, then,” she chirps, happy. And I’m astounded as I watch her walk to the door. Or try to. I remain where I am, and she’s pulled to a stop on a hiss, our arms extended between us.

Enough. This is madness. “Are we going to talk about this, Ava?” I ask, trying and failing not to sound short.

“Talk about what?” She’s not looking at me, so she can’t see my astounded face.

“You know what.”

I study her persona, her eyes still avoiding me as she searches for... what? Courage? Words? Anger, happiness? What the hell does she want to happen right now, because ignoring it isn’t an option anymore. I’ve given her time. I’ve waited for her to come to me, confide in me, confront me, whatever it is she needs to do. She’s taken none of the opportunities.

“Ava, we?—”

The door flies open, Elizabeth appearing, and I sag on the spot as she looks between us, oblivious to the screaming tension. “Can I ask why you two didn’t just run off somewhere to get married?” she asks. That’s a good fucking question. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking when I decided we were having a big wedding. Perhaps I was appeasing Ava’s unspoken romantic notion of a fairy tale. Perhaps I wanted everyone to see us wed. Who the fuck knows. “You have guests downstairs,” she rants on. “Dinner is being served, and I’m thoroughly fed up running around trying to control you.”

Then don’t, I say to myself, because there will be ructions if I retaliate. I’m in no mood for Elizabeth right now.

“We’re coming,” Ava says, trying to get me moving.

I remain static. “We’ll be a few minutes, Elizabeth.” This is being dealt with now.

“No,” Ava counters, her jaw rolling. “We’re coming.” She tilts her head, her eyes becoming glassy. She’s upset, acknowledging the situation without actually acknowledging it. It’s something, I suppose, but it still doesn’t answer the fucking question, does it? The fact is, she should be pissy with me whether I succeeded or not. She’s asked me outright if I was taking her pills and sounded quite chilled about it. I denied it, obviously. What can I say? I was caught off guard, unprepared. She’s forced condoms on me since. But now I’m ready, prepared. And now she’s avoiding talking about it. The mixed signals are driving me round the bend. “Please,” Ava mouths, and I growl to myself, raking a hand through my hair in frustration. God damn it.

At least we’ve broken the ice. At least there’s a conversation to pick up on.

When I finally get her alone again.

I let Ava lead us on, but I drag my feet, keeping one step behind her, watching the back of her head as her mother marches ahead, quietly condemning me for pulling the bride away from the guests. And isn’t that my fucking point? She’s my bride. Not theirs, not hers, not his. Mine.

“This way,” Elizabeth says, short and sharp, as if I don’t know my way around my own manor. “The starters have already been served.”

When we reach the entrance to the summer room, I slow, tugging Ava to a stop. She stills and takes a moment—and probably a breath—before she faces me. She’s smiling. It’s a fucking insult. “What?” she says, looking back into the summer room, trying to move me onward.

“What?” I parrot. I can’t believe how ridiculous she’s being.

“Come on, people are waiting.”

“Let them wait.”

“Jesse,” she grates, having the nerve to sound impatient. I’m about to yell my frustration when Tessa swoops in and manhandles us to the top table.

“Sit,” she demands, pushing me down into the chair. Ava looks at the cuffs. She can forget it.

She must soon come to terms with the fact she’s going nowhere because she picks up her fork with her free hand and starts poking at her food. I watch her, knowing she knows my eyes are on her, but she doesn’t look at me. Can’t face me. You could cut the atmosphere with a blunt knife. I sigh quietly, trying to talk myself round before what’s supposed to be the best day of my life goes completely down the shitter. “Av?—”

Her aunty Angela approaches, killing my fix-it speech, kissing Ava’s cheek and rubbing her shoulders from behind, laughing when Ava says something, lifting her handcuffed wrist. Then Drew comes over. Then Sam. Then... someone else; I don’t know who. Just one more person taking time that belongs to me.

I gaze around the room and resent every single person here, and once again wonder what the fuck I was thinking getting caught up in this ostentatious affair, when there’s only one thing that really matters.

Us.

And we’re at odds. On our wedding day, we’re at odds. I reach for Ava’s empty wine glass and move it farther into the table, farther away from her. She doesn’t glare at me or scorn me. I smell the beautiful dinner that’s put in front of me. No appetite. I take in the guests enjoying themselves, see their mouths moving, their gestures in slow motion.

Inhaling, I turn my attention to Ava. My wife. She’s facing away from me.

But I don’t see the rich, dark, glossy hair I love tumbling down her back.

I blink and frown, running my eyes down the long length of blond, straight hair. Slim shoulders. The puffy sleeves of her dress. What?

Confused, I get up from my chair, noticing my wrist is free. I look around the room. Not the summer room of my manor, but the village hall where I grew up. Stepping away from the table, I take the few short steps to the mirror hanging on a nearby wall. I get closer and closer, until I can see myself clearly.

It”s me.

Twenty years ago.

Barely a man. I turn my arms over in front of me. Peek down my trousers to my shoes. The suit is too big. Borrowed from her father.

“Jesse?”

I inhale sharply and swing around, stepping back and slamming into the wall, knocking the mirror. I jump when it crashes to the floor and shatters into a million pieces.

“Oh no,” she says lightly, walking across the glass, the shards crunching under the soles of her low heels. “Seven years of bad luck.”

A particularly large, jagged piece of glass lies at my feet. I see my face in it as I look down. And suddenly, another face appears.

Lauren’s.

“No,” I whisper, moving away. But I get nowhere. She’s still within touching distance. Within damaging distance. “No, no, no.”

“Husband,” she says, her hand lying on her belly, smiling in satisfaction.

“You trapped me,” I breathe, my head spinning, my legs moving but taking me nowhere.

“It isn’t considered trapped if you want to be here.”

“You don’t get to decide where I want to be.”

“Yes, I do.” She smiles, and it makes me want to slap it off her face. “Because I’m your wife, and this is your child.”

I look past her, seeing the world whizzing by, as if I’m stuck in a tunnel and everything is moving except me. Carmichael and John are standing on the sidelines. Reaching for me.

But unable to reach me.

“Help,” I whisper. “Help me.”

A loud smashknocks me back into the present, and I look to see a guest—I don’t know who—picking up their broken wine glass as a server rushes in to help. I blink, looking down my body. I’m sitting down. My suit is expensive and pale gray. My wrist is decorated with a Rolex and a handcuff. I dart my gaze to the woman next to me, coughing over a relieved whimper when I find dark hair. Lace. Her wrist secured to mine.

“Jesus,” I whisper, dragging the back of my hand across my brow, feeling the sweat. Dripping. The dinner plate isn’t in front of me anymore, a dessert is instead. Still no appetite. But I could really use a drink.

“Good luck, Jesse.”

I follow the voice to Ava’s father, startling when everyone in the room laughs and cheers. What the fuck’s going on? Ava looks tearful. I find John. His forehead is a map of concern as he silently asks me what the fuck is wrong with me through his hard stare. I shake my head, reading the room, and laugh with them. I need a cold shower. I grab my water and gulp it back, setting my empty glass down and looking at Ava. She’s given me her eyes now. Oblivious to the nightmare I just relived. This shouldn’t be happening, not ever, but especially not today. And I can’t help but think that my uncertainty is the reason for my past creeping into this monumental occasion. Ava and I need to have a conversation, and the more she avoids it, the more I sense she’s hiding the facts from me. And the more I worry, because to hide something is to be ashamed of it. To not want anyone to see it. And I know that more than anyone in the room.

I need her to know there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here, always here, and I am worthy of her faith. I deserve her trust. She should depend on me, lean on me, and everything will work out in the end.

I remove my arse from the chair and get on my knees before her, making sure she’s facing me, my hands holding hers, our eyes glued. “Ava, my beautiful girl,” I say quietly, seeing her glance around the room briefly. “All mine,” I reiterate, reminding her that all of these people won’t stop me. Never. I reach up and kiss her. “I don’t need to stand up and declare to everyone here how much I love you,” I say, not loudly, but loud enough. “I’m not interested in satisfying anyone of that.” I squeeze her hands, and she bites her lip, definitely to suppress her sob. “Except you.” I don’t know how this has happened, what I was thinking when I took those pills, but something way out of my control was guiding me, and I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. And now we’re here on our wedding day, not talking, doubting too many things. “You’ve taken me completely, baby,” I go on softly. “You’ve swallowed me up and drowned me in your beauty and spirit.” Made me do crazy things, say crazy things, see crazy things. “You know I can’t function without you. You’ve made my life as beautiful as you are. You’ve made me want to live a worthy existence—a life with you. All I need is you. To look at you. To listen to you. To feel you.” I move my hands to her thighs and apply pressure, reinforcing my words, not taking my eyes off hers. She’s weeping now. So fucking emotional. “To love you,” I finish softly. It’s all I’m here for now. To love this woman forever and beyond. Purpose. “I need you to let me do all of those things, Ava.” My voice cracks. “I need you to let me look after you forever.” I try to smile and fail, hoping she reads between the lines. If I have her, I’m a better man. If I have her, there can be only light. If I have her, my past will heal and rest.

Hope.

She nods, snivels, tries so hard to smile. “I know.”

So let me.

I stand and pull her up for a cuddle, hugging her fiercely and feeling her cling to me with what cannot be mistaken as anything but love. And love always wins.

I’m immune to the riotous applause, could not give two shits what anyone makes of this. So long as Ava is reminded.

“Jesse Ward.” Elizabeth muscles in on our moment, and I sigh. “I love you,” she says, surprising me. “But please remove those handcuffs from my daughter.”

And there it is. “Not going to happen, Elizabeth.”

She quickly moves out of my space, allowing Kate to attack. I catch her, definitely feeling her wobble as she rains praise all over me. I pull her out of my chest, frowning down at her, as Ava’s hauled away. And we’re back to sharing each other again, our arms at full length between us. “Are you okay, Kate?” I ask.

“Sure,” she chirps, pushing her palms into my chest and getting away. Escaping. I seek Sam out. He’s laughing with Drew and John.

Ava catches my eye, her gaze begging me to rescue her. She doesn’t have to ask twice. I pull her to me and start leading her away, throwing warning looks everywhere.

“Ava,” Dan calls.

I stop before the handcuffs cut into either of our wrists, watching as he approaches, flicking his eyes between us. There’s no love lost between Ava’s brother and me. He’s made it clear he doesn’t like me. I would have made it clear the feeling’s mutual if I wasn’t worried about upsetting my wife. Or clearer. He’s a cock. I don’t trust him.

Getting a little hot, my temper bubbling, I watch as Ava looks down at our wrists. Fuck. I have one option. Release her. Two options if I want to cause Ava more stress by butting heads with her bull of a brother and, of course, I absolutely don’t want to cause Ava more stress. So, and it pains me, I reach into my pocket and get the key, freeing her.

Giving her up to her brother.

I flick a cold stare onto Dan as Ava rubs at her wrist, silent, obviously shocked that I’ve freed her. “Go.” I hold Dan’s eyes, making sure he knows I’m not doing this for any other reason than keeping Ava happy, as she drops a pacifying kiss on my cheek. It’s entirely dickish, but I feel out Ava’s arse, holding it, pushing her into me. I’ve stroked Dan’s ego for weeks. Initially, I hoped I could smooth over the cracks, maybe even get us to the point of tolerating each other. It hasn’t worked.

I give Ava my attention, another sign. She’s my priority. If he upsets her, there will be no holding me back. “Don’t be long.” I break away and stride off, taking in valuable air, hoping to keep the urge to annihilate Dan at bay.

“All right?” John asks, falling into stride next to me as I head into the bar.

I smile across at him. It’s an effort. “Good speech,” I say for the sake of it, unable to comment further. I didn’t hear a word, but I know John. It would have been short, simple, and lacking detail.

“Thanks,” he grunts back, lifting his phone when it rings. I catch sight of the screen, stopping abruptly at the bar entrance.

“My man!” Sam calls from his stool, forcing me to hold a hand up, telling him I’ll be a minute.

“Sarah?” I ask, pointing at John’s mobile as he rejects her call. “I thought you said you couldn’t reach her.”

“I couldn’t,” he growls. “True to Sarah’s impeccable timing, she chose today to surface.” He looks left and right.

“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “Ava’s with her brother.”

“I didn’t want to tell you. Especially today.”

“Is she okay?”

He laughs. There’s no humor. “Is Sarah ever okay?”

Good point. But... “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Take it as you will. She’s drunk. Slurring, talking nonsense.”

“Nonsense like...”

He sighs, placing one of his enormous hands over his forehead, gathering patience. “It’s your wedding day, Jesse. This does not deserve your attention or concern. Let me deal with it.” He strides off, leaving no room for me to accept or, perhaps, not. I hate the woman with a passion. Truly. For what she’s said, what she’s done. But, fuck me, that doesn’t seem to stop my conscience from worrying about her.

“God damn it,” I mutter, joining Sam and Drew at the bar. I watch as they both neck their Scotches and listen as they gasp their appreciation. “A water, please, Mario,” I grumble, perching on a stool next to them, feeling the urge of many guests wanting to come and congratulate me. I hope my semi-scowling expression warns them off.

“Okay?” Drew asks, and I laugh sardonically.

Isn’t it something that all I keep getting asked is if I’m okay? On my wedding day. Suffice to say, it isn’t panning out how I hoped. “Fine.” I look at the bar entrance, wondering what Ava’s brother is saying. Wonderful things, I expect. Singing my praises. Wishing us well. Telling Ava how happy he is for her. What’s his fucking problem, anyway? From the moment he opened his mouth to me, he’s been hostile. I should find Ava’s ex and thank him for stirring shit. With my fist. Again.

“What gives, man?” Sam rests his arse on the next stool. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.”

If it was just Ava and me in our bubble, it would be. Unfortunately, I have to share her with the world. “How’s work?” I say, trying to distract myself. Sam leans back on his stool, making way for Drew, because why the fuck would I ask Sam that question? He’s not done a day’s work in his life, except in the rooms of my manor.

“I’m glad to see you didn’t invite the prick of an estate agent,” Drew says flatly.

“He’s still rubbing you up the wrong way?” I ask.

“I’m not bothered.”

Both Sam and I laugh, and Drew scowls. “Not bothered?” I ask. “Strange. Your constant twisted face whenever he’s brought up says otherwise.”

“He’s insignificant.”

“Tell that to your bottom line.”

“Fuck off.”

“Just let me know if cash flow is an issue and I’ll pause your membership.” I smile round the rim of my glass.

“Fuck... off,” he grates, motioning for another drink.

“God, you’re uptight,” Sam teases.

“Jesse could change that.” Drew looks past me to the staircase that leads to the top floors of The Manor.

“Forget it,” I say quickly, as Sam chuckles. “Besides, there’s no one here you’d want to drag up and bless with your filth.”

“I don’t know,” Sam chimes. “Isn’t Ava’s work friend invited this evening?”

“Victoria?” Drew asks. “Seriously. Mention a dildo to that woman, she’ll spray you with disinfectant and have you committed to an asylum.”

I laugh loudly.

“There’s Kate, though,” Drew adds casually.

Sam stills, his body solid. Oh no. It’s not often you see Sam Kelt scowling. It seems Kate can fix that. “Drew,” I warn slowly, seeing the fucker smirk.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks.

I don’t bother trying to hold Sam back. Drew’s being a dick. He deserves a whack. So I sit back and let Sam at him, watching as he gets up in our mate’s face, fisting his suit jacket. “I don’t want to hear her name come out of your mouth again,” he hisses. “Do you hear me?”

Drew smiles. “You’re in love with her.”

My eyes widen. Fuck. He went there?

Sam’s grip of Drew’s suit loosens. He glowers. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous.” He thrusts him away.

“Totally ridiculous,” Drew breathes, swiping his drink up and wandering off.

Sam takes his seat. “Where’s Ava?”

And my time being distracted is up. I look toward the entrance of the bar again while taking a sip of my water, back to wondering what her brother is saying. “With Dan,” I muse.

“Prickly fucker,” Sam mutters. “Don’t know what I’ve ever done to him.”

I clear my throat, not looking at Sam. You fucked his ex. “Don’t take it personally. He’s frosty with me too.”

“Obviously loving his life,” Sam says. “Didn’t Ava say he was living the dream in Australia?” he asks, and I nod.

“How are you and Kate?” I’m very keen to get off Dan. I look at my watch. How long has it been?

“I don’t know,” he says, frowning into his tumbler. “Like I said, it feels like she’s here but not. But I’m no expert in reading women’s minds, only their bodies.” He gets up and slaps my shoulder. “Go find your bride, mate. You should be with her.”

I watch him stroll off, his words sinking in. I should be with my bride. “Yes, I should,” I say to myself, finishing my water and taking my mate’s advice.

I walk with purpose, a message for anyone intending on intercepting me not to, and head for the gardens at the rear of The Manor. I wander down the lawn, past the tennis courts, hands in my pockets, a handcuff dangling and chinking with each step I take. When I reach the bottom, I stop, listening, scanning the trees before me. I hear Dan yell, I can’t make out exactly what, but I definitely heard Kate’s name. Frankly, I couldn’t give a fuck what they’re talking about. I do, however, give plenty of fucks that he’s yelling at my wife. I take a few more careful steps, listening.

“He’s good for her,” I hear Ava say, her voice tight. Sam. She’s talking about Sam, and if I wasn’t getting so worked up, that would warm my heart. Sam deserves some stability in his life. A constant, other than me and Drew. Someone to go home to. Problem is, I’m not sure Kate’s that woman, especially given what I know about her history with Dan, the amount of alcohol Kate has sunk today, and the fact I’ve not seen her with Sam. Not once.

I pass through two ancient oak trees and see them facing each other. I can”t see Ava’s face—her back is to me—but I can see Dan’s and he looks pissed off. I laugh on the inside. He’s not even experienced pissed off. But he’s about to see it.

“You need to leave this exactly where it is,” Ava snaps firmly. She tries to walk away, and Dan stops her by grabbing her arm.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Oh, he did not.“Get your fucking hands off her,” I grate, my jaw rolling, my fists balling.

“It’s fine,” Ava says, pulling herself free of her brother’s hold. I disagree. It is not fine. “We’re done.”

“She’s my sister,” Dan fires, as Ava fidgets uncomfortably. Did he actually just move toward me?

“She’s my wife,” I snarl. That title trumps all others.

Dan laughs. Whether that be with nerves or pure mockery, I don’t know. But he’ll pay for it. I’m done stroking this prick’s ego. Brother or not, he’s a fucking cunt. I move forward and stop when something meets my arm.

Ava’s hand.

I tear my rabid stare off Dan and find her begging me with her eyes. She’s done that so many times today. Silently begged me. I feel her hand seize mine and squeeze. “Let’s go.”

Fuck. I know deep down I can’t lay a finger on her brother. So, reluctantly, I relent and do what’s right, backing off. Because if I let loose on Dan, Ava will be distraught. And that’s a good enough reason to let the fucker off the hook.

I turn and walk away, taking Ava with me, demanding her hand. I re-cuff us. “Don’t ask me to remove them again.”

“I won’t,” she says easily. “Throw away the key.”

With pleasure.She wouldn’t be able to go to work. Leave my side. Runaway when I pick up the conversation we need to finish. “Wishing you’d have stayed nailed to me?”

“Yes.” She looks at me with a soft but certain gaze. “Don’t free me again.”

I smile. It’s soft like her words, but definitely not certain. “Would you like a drink?”

“I’d love a drink.”

Wait. Does she think I mean a drink? Because I don’t. Water, tea, perhaps a coffee. This might be a trigger for another disagreement, and I’m done with disagreements. But she’s not having a drink. I sigh and pull her into my side, pushing my face into her hair. “I won’t stand for it, Ava,” I say. “Even if he’s your brother.”

“I know.” I hear the dread in her voice, feel it in her body language. She doesn’t think her brother will back down.

We’ll see.

Even more people have arrived by the time I get Ava back into the bar, and we battle our way through the crowds, being attacked with kisses and squeezed with hugs. Jesus. How long do we need to stay at our wedding? I’m done with people.

I give Mario a nod as we near, and he swiftly has a glass of water on the bar. I get Ava on a stool, the water in her hand, and turn away, getting my own water before she can throw any defiance, protests, or sass my way. When I see Tessa marching over, I wonder whether braving Ava’s inevitable disbelief over my choice of drink for her is a better option.

I’m blasted back with a thorough telling off from our wedding planner for being missing in action again, unavailable to cut the cake. What I want to tell her is that I didn’t hire her and pay obscene amounts to be nagged—I have a wife to do that now. But instead I say, “It’s fine,” glugging back some water.

Then Ava is quickly on my case. “Don’t you want to cut the cake? Kate went out of her way to make it at such short notice.”

“Then let’s not ruin it.” I appease her, smiling, fiddling with her necklace as she exhales an over-the-top sigh.

“You’re impossible.”

I roll my eyes to myself and roll them harder when Tessa appears again. “I’ve spoken to Elizabeth.” She has? Great. “We’re cutting the cake and having the first dance shortly, so don’t be disappearing on me again.” And with that, she’s gone, and rather than following her and relieving her of her duties, because I’m attached, literally, I realign my attention on what matters today.

Ava.

She looks as fresh and glorious as she did when she stepped into the summer room. Perhaps her cheeks are little pinker. And her hair a little wilder. Beautiful. But I know, like me, she’s done with the day. And that fucking sucks. I wanted our wedding to be incredible for her. Unforgettable. “You okay, baby?” I ask, framing the side of her face with my hand. She doesn’t nuzzle into it, and that’s a first.

“Yes,” she more or less sighs. “Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Fuck her brother. “I said I wanted you to enjoy today.” I think I jinxed us when I said that. Totally. It’s been a bizarre mixture of exhilarating and tiresome.

“I’m fine,” she repeats, this time shorter, looking at her glass on a shake of her head before drinking. What? Does she think alcohol will make her feel better? No. Alcohol masks things. Alcohol hurts. She needs to trust me on that.

It’s all I can do not to groan my despair when I spot Ava’s boss approaching with a woman in a wild, tight outfit. Animal print. Hideous. I face the bar and breathe in the patience I know I’m going to need as Ava elbows me in the side. “Here’s Patrick,” she whispers. “You said Monday, remember?”

“Yes, Ava,” I drone. “Just till Monday, though.”

I wince when Peterson screeches some sickly pet name for my wife, crowding her. Ava’s shoulders are hunched, her smile tight. “Mr. Ward.”

“Please, it’s Jesse.” I take his offered hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“Oh. Jesse.” Yes, let’s get on first name terms, because when my wife doesn’t follow through on her promise to advise Peterson of her intention to withdraw from working with Van Der Haus—and I have a nasty feeling she won’t—I want to be able to talk to him man to man and have his respect. So I will grin and bear him for as long as this takes. I pray it’s not too long “This is Irene.”

“Nice to meet you,” she purrs.

I blast her back with my smile. It’s forced. “And you.” I’ve changed my mind. I’m done already. “Please, the bar staff will see to you.” Translated: fuck off.

But Peterson and his wife don’t get the message, both of them moving in closer. I know what Peterson is thinking. He’s thinking there are a lot of rooms in my manor and eventually all of them will need renovations.

“Thank you.” Irene’s arm brushes with mine. “This hotel is just wonderful.”

She should be taking in this wonderful hotel if she finds it so wonderful. But no. She’s taking in me. Until Ava pipes up.

“Hello, Irene,” she says, edging closer to me. Trample mode activated. “How are you?”

“Delightful. Ava, you look stunning.”

My wife blinks her surprise, and I motion past Peterson to the end of the bar where Mario has poured champagne into dozens of flutes. “Help yourself,” I say, and he promptly pulls his wife away.

“Interesting woman,” I mumble. Terrifying. Gaudy. Really fucking loud.

“She makes Patrick’s life miserable.”

“I can imagine.” That will never happen with us.

Ava moves on her stool, looking past me. “Here’s John.”

I turn, my water halfway to my mouth, but it pauses at my lips when I register his expression. I’ve known this man for twenty plus years. I know when he’s happy, even if he’s grimacing. I know when he’s amused, even when his lips are straight. I know when he’s pissed, even when I can’t see his eyes. And I know when he’s stressed, even though there is not one crease on his smooth face.

He”s definitely stressed.

Fuck.

“A word, Jesse.”

A word? Shit, what’s happened? I currently have Ava handcuffed to me, and I know she will kick up a royal stink if, after everything I’ve said, I uncuff us.

I stare at John, begging him to help me out on how to handle this. He stares back. He can’t help me. Fuck. Then he discreetly tilts his head, twitchy, indicating the entrance.

Jesus, is Sarah here? The last thing I want is her walking into the bar. That thought has me reaching into my pocket swiftly and taking the key to the cuffs. It doesn’t meet the lock. Ava wrenches her arm away, cutting into both of our skins. I grit my teeth.

“What are you doing?” she asks, snappy and high-pitched.

I don’t look at her. Don’t want to see the questions in her eyes. “John wants a quick word.” I need to handle whatever needs to be handled and get us both the fuck out of here before our wedding day is well and truly ruined.

Too late, brother.

“Oh, no.” Ava laughs. “You don’t get to release me when it suits you.” She gives our wrists an extra, assertive yank. “No way, Ward.”

“Ava,” I say softly, trying to get the key in the lock. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“No,” she yells, and I flinch, glancing around, seeing a few people looking this way. Yeah, happy couple right here. “Where are you going?” she asks me before repeating her question to John. “Where is he going?”

“S’all good, girl,” he says, as soft as I’ve ever heard him.

“No.” She shakes her head, her lips straight, her face furious. Can I blame her? “It’s not all fucking good.”

“Watch your mouth,” I whisper on a hiss, getting closer to her, trying to conceal her fury from the room, as well as soak up any more bad language she might throw my way. “I’ll be a few minutes.” Less if I can help it. “You’ll stay fucking put, Ava.” I hate to take on a stern tone with her, but whatever’s waiting for me, I really don’t need Ava coming to find it.

She gazes at me, hurt, and it fucking kills me. I look away from her silent form, releasing her, and leave hastily. I spot Elizabeth looking my way, her eyes questioning, so I give her a little nod, maybe to tell her everything is fine, maybe to tell her to step in and go to Ava. I don’t know. My head is spinning.

“What’s going on?” I ask as John and I stride away side by side, through the summer room where the band’s started playing.

“Coral.”

I shoot my shocked eyes his way. “Coral?” Surely not?

“She was at the gates. I managed to keep her out until evening guests started arriving.”

“Fuck.”

“Indeed. I took her to your office. It was that or have her find you in the bar.”

I reach up to my collar and yank it loose. “I thought it was Sarah.”

John laughs. “No. I think she’s too drunk to even walk, let alone get herself here.”

Should I be grateful?

“Hey, man,” Sam calls as we breach the entrance to the corridor to the office. “Where are you going?”

“Just a small issue to be sorted.”

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles.

The female population is in mourning.

I frown at thin air. Hilarious, Jake.

“Have you seen Kate?” Sam asks.

“No.” I carry on to my office. “Try the bar.” Although I don’t recall seeing her in there. In fact, I haven’t seen her for a while. Passed out?

I stop outside my office door and take a few precious moments that I really don’t have to cool my temper. “Is she drunk?” I ask.

“No.”

I’ve dealt with Coral falling all over the place, and I’ve dealt with her falling apart. I can’t decide which is the lesser of two evils. A deep breath. The time I’ve taken, and the air, hasn’t lessened the pressure building in my head. Today? She chooses today to turn up again? What is it I said on the phone exactly that translated to an invite? Fuck it.

John’s phone rings, and I look at him as he glances down at the screen. He doesn’t have to say a word. “Take it,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

He backs away, and I face the door again.

You shouldn’t go in there.

“What am I supposed to do, let her go roaming around my wedding looking for me?” I rest my head on the wood. “Fuck, Jake, how can I make it any clearer to her?”

Don’t be mad, don’t be nice. Just be together. Be calm.

So, basically, the exact opposite to what instinct tells me to do. I push my way into my office and shut the door. “Coral,” I say coolly, walking straight to my desk and resting my arse on the edge, arms crossed. Protective. She’s on the couch, comfortable, one leg crossed over the other revealing too much of her thigh from where her skirt’s hitched up. Tactical.

Her eyes fall to my wedding ring. “You went through with it then?”

“Did I give you reason to believe I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” she asks, standing. My God, if another woman tries to tell me what they think I need, I’ll fly off the fucking handle.

“Don’t come any closer to me, Coral,” I warn. “The last time I saw you, I made it clear where I stand. Who I love.” I told her on the fucking phone too. I put her up in a hotel for days, gave her money to try and get her back on her feet when her wanker ex-husband froze her accounts. Cut her phone off. My thoughts stall. “Your phone was reconnected.”

“What?”

“You said it was cut off when you turned up on the night of the anniversary party.”

“It was.”

“But you texted me later that night.”

“I had it reconnected.”

“How?” I ask, hostile. “You didn’t have any money.”

“I...” She blinks, looking away, obviously trying to think up an excuse. She lied? Fed me a load of bullshit to make me feel sorry for her? Fucking hell, the boys were right. I’ve been played for a fucking fool. “You’re going to leave now, Coral,” I say firmly, seeing no point calling her out, making her answer to me. Explain herself. Because it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter. “And I’m going to sit down here and take a few moments to myself”—take a moment to compose myself—“before I go out and rejoin my wife.” I go to the couch and lower, making my point.

“Jesse,” she breathes, moving toward me. Oh, no. I hold up a hand, and she stops.

“Don’t you remember that night?”

“What fucking night?” I ask. I’ve fucked her more than once, and I can’t remember one encounter in any detail. Because I was pissed.

“The first night. How?—”

“Coral, seriously. Enough. Whatever you thought I felt, whatever you imagined happened between us, you’re wrong.” There’s a competition happening with an award up for the woman with the thickest skin. I think Coral might be edging out in front.

“Where’s Ava?” she asks.

My shoulders lift, tense. It’s a simple question but it somehow feels like a threat. “Leave,” I order through a tight jaw. “And I swear, Coral, if I see you around here again, I will call the police and have a restraining order slapped on you, do you hear me?”

“But, Jesse, please, listen to me.”

My head goes into my hands. My God, what will it take for her to hear me? The sofa beneath my arse moves, and I look up to see she’s sat down at the other end. “What are you doing?” I sigh.

“I need you to hear me.”

“No, Coral,” I say calmly. “You need to hear m?—”

The door swings open, and my heart jumps into my throat when I see Ava on the threshold of my office, her eyes bouncing from each end of the couch constantly, taking in the scene. No. Oh fuck, no.

I stare at her like a clueless fool, scratching through my mind for some instructions.

Get up! Go to her!

But the second my muscles finally listen to my head, Ava backs out and pulls the door shut.

“Oh, there she is,” Coral muses.

I blink, turning my eyes slowly her way. She’s resting back on the couch, relaxed. I stand, unable to control my shakes, and bend, forcing her back farther. “Get the fuck out of my manor and my life,” I seethe, looking her up and down on a contemptuous sneer. “You pathetic leech.” She can’t hide her hurt. Good. Fucking hate me. Please, just fucking hate me and leave me the hell alone. “You’d better be gone when I get back.” I stalk to the door and yank it open, finding John on the other side. “Get her out of here,” I order, passing him and jogging down the corridor. I scan the summer room, try to see through the crowds of people who have taken to the dance floor, searching for an explosion of white. Nothing. I pass through, shrugging people off, smiling tightly, trying to get to the bar. No Ava. Sam looks up, as does Drew. “Have you seen Ava?” I ask.

“No.” Sam frowns. “I can’t find Kate either. Maybe they’re together.”

Drew laughs lightly. “Seriously. You can’t find your wife and you can’t find your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam breathes.

“Of course.”

“Coral turned up,” I say, backing out of the bar and looking up and down the foyer.

“Coral?” Drew blurts.

“Yes, Coral. Ava walked in on me talking to her in my office.”

“Talking about what?”

“Nothing, Drew,” I snap. “That’s the fucking point. There’s nothing between us, never has been.” And even though Ava knows that, she has every right to be upset about me leaving her—on our fucking wedding day—to appease an ex-fuck who won’t fuck off. Ava was right. I shouldn’t have uncuffed us. Fucking Coral.

I leave the boys and hurry upstairs to our suite, bursting in and scanning the space, checking the bathroom, before dashing back downstairs. Where the hell is she? I look at the door onto the driveway. Has she left? I’m a bag of nerves as I walk slowly to the doors, pushing out of them. I find Kate sitting on the steps nursing a cigarette and a glass of water. She peers back at me as she exhales. Her face is blotchy. Her eyes puffy. “Everything okay?” I ask, trying to sound concerned while scanning the driveway for Ava.

“Perfect,” she says, smiling.

Fuck it. I can’t just ignore the fact she’s been crying. “Sam’s looking for you.”

She turns back away from me. “I’ll be back inside soon.”

I haven’t got time for this. “I don’t know what’s going on with Ava’s brother, but?—”

She swings around. “What’s Ava said?”

“Nothing. Just that there’s history.” I look back over my shoulder into The Manor. “Look, Kate, Sam’s a good guy. Don’t fuck him around, okay?”

She doesn’t answer. It’s hardly reassuring.

I sigh. “Have you seen Ava?”

A shake of her head.

“You’re looking for Ava?” Pete approaches, coming up the steps, an empty tray of champagne flutes lying across his palm. “I saw her leave out the glass doors at the back.”

“Thanks, Pete.” I don’t go back through The Manor but instead take the steps down to the driveway and circle round the side, jogging past the garages. I see a speck of white in the distance and breathe out my relief, crossing the lawn to the woodland at the bottom of the gardens.

She’s sitting on a trunk, and as I get closer, I hear her quiet, suppressed sobs. “Fuck,” I whisper, mentally beating myself up. I made my wife cry on her wedding day. What kind of arsehole am I?

Her shoulder blades pull in. She’s sensed me close by.

“I know you’re there,” she says.

“I know you do.” I circle the trunk and lower my arse next to her. She won’t look at me, but watches my hands playing nervously. How do I fix this mess? Pull it back?

“Isn’t it funny,” she says quietly, “how we’re so in touch with each other, yet you sit here now and you don’t know what to say to me.”

I sigh and move closer, touching her leg, at a loss for what to say.

“So he touches me,” she whispers, looking down at my hand.

“He loves you,” I reply quietly. “He wishes he could eliminate the past that’s hurting you.”

“Then why did you see her?” she asks, looking at me. I hate the glaze of affliction in her eyes. “On our wedding day, when you vowed to have me by your side all day, why did you desert me to see her?”

Because I’m an idiot. I should have been transparent with Ava and taken her with me to send Coral on her way. United. Fuck, why the hell do I always make the wrong choice? “I couldn’t leave her at the gates with guests arriving, Ava.” I’m not passing the blame to John. I would have done what he did.

“So tell her to go away.”

“And cause a scene?”

She bites at her lip, thinking. “What did she want?” She’s asking questions she knows the answers to. “Did she know we were getting married today?”

Except that one. “Yes, she knew.”

“And she still came?” she asks, shocked, perhaps now comprehending the determination of these women. “Was she hoping to stop it?” She’s almost laughing. Yes, laugh, because it’s fucking laughable. “Was she going to barge through the summer room doors and declare that we shouldn’t be joined in holy matrimony?”

Truth is, I wouldn’t put it past Coral. “I don’t know, Ava.”

“When did you speak to her?”

“She’s been calling and turning up at The Manor.” Do I mention the call this morning? Be specific? “I’ve told her repeatedly I’m not helping her. I’ve told her there are no feelings. I’m not sure what else I can do, Ava.”

“What’s your definition of an affair?” she fires quickly, catching me off guard.

“What do you mean?” Jesus, we’re not here again, are we? We’ve been over this. Ava thinks I had an affair with Coral, I think I didn’t. But I’m not about to devalue her views or feelings on this. I have no right.

“I mean, she’s in love with you, and you’ve said it was only sex. It was obviously more to her.”

“Baby, I’ve told you before, just sex.” She has to hear me. “They always wanted more, but I never gave them any reason to expect it. Never.” But no matter how cold I was, no matter how detached, they always came back.

She looks away, hurt. “I don’t want you to see her again.”

“I won’t.” She ordered it, and I will listen. “I’ve no need to.” God, she looks so tired. I can relate. If only she would relent and allow me to take her on a holiday. Take us away.

“I’ve had enough of my wedding. I’d like to leave.”

“Ava,” I beg softly. “Look at me.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t start making demands when I’m feeling like this.”

She’s not the only one feeling defeated. But, again, how can I whine about how tired I am? All the shit that’s gone down today is because of me. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me right,” I say harshly, frustrated with everything. Especially myself. “I said, look at me.”

She turns a bored expression my way. “What?”

I get on my knees and put myself in front of her. “I’ve fucked up,” I say gently. “I’m so sorry, I was trying to keep her away from you.” I search her eyes, begging her to understand. There was nothing underhanded about seeing Coral. It was all simply an effort to protect her. “I panicked and thought I could talk some sense into her. I didn’t want her kicking up a stink on your special day.”

“It’s your special day too. You should’ve just told me.”

And I really wish I had, but what’s done is done. I move in and give her a hug. “I know. Let me make it up to you. What do you want me do, baby? Name it.”

“Just take me to bed.”

The best answer. Escape. We’re both done for the day. “Deal.” I get us up and give her a long, soft kiss, and I thank everything that she responds, syphoning off the calm she needs from the man who causes all of the chaos in her life. “We’ll make friends properly later.” I dip and sweep her off her feet, and she drops her heavy head onto my shoulder as I walk us back to The Manor. Exhausted. And yet despite her tears, she still looks... glorious. I didn’t ruin her beautiful face at least.

I look up at all of the illuminated windows of my manor, see the bodies on the ground floor in the windows. I don’t know if there’s ever been a time in the history of this place when it’s stood empty, not a single person in any of the rooms. Imagine how quiet it would be if it was just me and Ava living here. The lord and his lady. I smile.

It drops the moment I step into the summer room and spot Elizabeth gunning for me.

Oh, here we go.

“You’ve not cut the cake and you need to have your first dance,” she snaps, outraged. “Tell me, are we having a wedding?”

I only needed Ava to say I do. “I’m taking Ava upstairs.” I keep up my pace. “She’s tired.”

“But it’s only ten o’clock,” Elizabeth cries, flanking me. “What about your guests?”

What about them? “There’s a bar, band, and plenty to eat, Elizabeth.” And if they want to be adventurous, at this stage, I’d happily open the communal room to keep them entertained. “I’m sure they’ll survive.”

“Ava, please,” she begs, deciding she’s getting nowhere with me. “Talk some sense into him.”

Ava’s hands fall onto my cheeks, and my feet slow but don’t stop, my forehead heavy as I look at her. Her face. “A little longer,” she says, and I slow to a stop. “We can give her longer.”

Can we? Haven’t we given enough of our time to others today? “You’re tired.” I’m tired. Fucking knackered, in fact. “Let me take you to bed, baby.”

She smiles a little, nuzzling into my face. “Dance with me.” I’m a goner. “Let’s dance.” Dance. It’s my next favorite thing to sex with Ava. I get to hold her close. Black out the world and just dance.

So I reverse my steps and carry Ava to the dance floor, hearing Elizabeth breathe out her relief. Everyone steps aside, giving the floor to us. Just us.

I put my wife down and go to the band. “Now?” the lead singer asks, and I nod. “The same track?”

“Please.” It’s perfect, now more than ever. I watch him set it up and, as soon as the intro of Chasing Cars starts, I smile to myself, facing her. She’s all on her own in the middle of the floor. A beacon of pure, beautiful light. If I join her, will I cast a shadow over that light again? My feet won’t move to take me to her. A sign? Her eyes sparkle, but tears are the cause. Emotional. So fucking emotional. At this point, given what the day has brought, I can’t conclude it’s hormones.

I walk into her body and hold her close, starting to move us slowly. The peace is instant. But my guilt is untamable. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I left you earlier.”

“Let’s leave it there.”

“The harder I try not to hurt you, the more I do.” I swallow down the ball in my throat, damning myself to hell. “I’m hopeless.” Fucking hopeless.

“Be quiet.”

I sigh, trying to smile at her order. “Okay. But I’m still sorry.” I cup the back of her head and exhale my contentment. “I can’t wait to crawl into bed with you.”

“Me neither.” Her fingers claw into my shoulders. “Tomorrow, we stay in bed all day.”

“We need to go home first,” I remind her, sensing her disappointment when she goes heavier against me.

“We go home first thing in the morning, then.”

“We do, after we’ve soaked in the bath and had breakfast with your parents.”

There are a few beats of silence, both of us contemplative. “I wish you’d have taken me away,” she whispers. “Somewhere quiet, just us.”

My heart sinks. How I wish I could change how we did this. “I wish I had too,” I admit. “But I bet your mother would’ve had something to say about it.” And isn’t the reason we’re not going on a honeymoon anytime soon because Ava can’t take the time off?

I can feel her leaning in to me more every second I turn us on the spot. “Mrs. Ward, are you falling asleep on me?” She hums as others start to join us on the floor. “I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I know.” She finds it in herself to drag her head off my shoulder, giving me her mouth, and I read her message, kissing her as I lift her from her feet. “Mr. Ward,” she mumbles, sleepy, her lips still on my mouth. “You’re drawing attention.”

“Fuck them. Wherever, whenever, baby. You know that. Let me see those eyes.”

She looks at me, curious and drowsy, and with the mildest of smiles on her face. “Why do you always demand to see them?”

That’s easy. “Because when I look into them,” I say, doing it right now—staring into their dark beauty—“I know for sure that you’re real.”

“I’m real,” she assures me, the bridge of her nose scrunching.

“I’m so glad.” Because I hate to think where my life would be now if she wasn’t. “I didn’t tell you how beautiful you look.” I kiss her, literally holding her up now, still moving us both. “I thought it, but my beautiful girl renders me stupid every time I lay my eyes on her. It’s like I’m looking at her for the first time all over again.” She’s so fucking magnificent. “You keep my heart beating, baby,” I say quietly. “And it will only ever beat for you. Understand?”

“Just for me.” She feels through my hair, hardly able to keep her eyes open. “I need you to take me to bed.”

“Will my delightful mother-in-law allow that?”

“I don’t care. I just want you to myself. Take me to bed.”

“Deal.” I place her down and steal a quick kiss. “You don’t have to ask me twice, Mrs. Ward.” Fuck, that sounds so good. I might sacrifice my preferred lady for her official title.

“I just did.”

She did? “That’s your fucking mother’s fault.” I scan the room for Elizabeth as I turn Ava around and move her onward by her shoulders, bracing myself for her intervention.

“Oh, look at Clive and Cathy,” Ava says as I follow her pointed hand to our resident concierge and my housekeeper. The rascal. He’s had his eye on Cathy from the moment she returned from Ireland. I chuckle as they move awkwardly in a circle, but my amusement dies the second I see Dan across the floor, his attention on Kate and Sam. Fucking hell. I’m happy to see Sam and Kate together for the first time today, naturally, but Dan’s face? I glance at Ava to see if she’s noticed them, or even felt the atmosphere, because it’s thick.

“It doesn’t look like history to me,” I muse, dipping to scoop Ava up, hoping that’ll get us out of here quicker than Ava’s feet seem to want to carry her.

But then I hear something, and I still, half bent, listening. Oh no.

Now? The DJ chooses now?

“Hello, Justin,” Ava says as I straighten up to full height. The beat starts to sink into my body. Fuck, she’s tired.

Tell your body that, Ward.

Lovestonedhas always been a favorite, but since the night when I looked into Ava’s eyes on that dance floor and saw what I knew was love, and then she told me—drunk or not—it’s the favorite. And as I look at her now—now that she’s my wife—I just know it’s hers too.

And I must dance with her.

Must.

Relive that night and smile because look where we are now. Married. Joined. Never to be separated. Let’s finish the day on a high.

I fix my crumpled suit, my shoulders jigging. “Oh, Mrs. Ward,” I muse, seeing some life trickle back into her at the prospect of her husband showing the world how to dance. “I’m about to tear that floor up.” I pull her back onto the dance floor and put us in the center, removing my jacket and tossing it aside as Ava laughs. That sight alone, her face, her happiness, is enough for me to keep her up for a little longer. Justin is just a bonus.

Thisis how she will remember our day.

“Woohoo!” Kate yells, the change in direction of music seeming to sober her up and make her smile. Her arms go up in the air, Sam laughs, and I check Dan’s whereabout discreetly, seeing him still on the edge of the dance floor, but now Joseph is with him. Talking some sense into him?

I refocus on Ava, happy to see her awake, and move in, crouching to get her closer. “Ready to reenact one of my favorite nights with you?” I ask, dotting kisses all over her face in time to the music, feeling my groin grind into her.

“My mother’s watching,” she says around a grin.

“And?” I take her hand and twirl her, watching her beautiful wedding gown fan, before pulling her back into my chest.

“And she might keel over if she sees you dry-humping me on the dance floor.”

I laugh. “My amazing dancing will distract her.” I spin her again and smile at the sound of her laugh filling my ears.

She crashes back into me. “Then she’s in for a treat.”

My eyebrows rise. “And you?”

She lifts up on her toes and nibbles at my chin. “I think I need reminding that my husband has talents outside of the bedroom.”

I’m laughing again, my head falling back, giving her access to my neck. “Fucking hell, woman,” I say, dropping my eyes and pushing my lips to her forehead. “I fucking love you.”

“I know. Now dance with me.”

So I give her what she wants and hope it redeems me for making too many bad decisions on her big day. I’d wanted to make our wedding unforgettable—and possibly have for the wrong reasons—but I am Jesse Ward, after all. A fucked-up arsehole who somehow managed to get the most beautiful, special woman in the world to marry me.