Chapter 16
LEILA
The morning of my wedding dawns gray and cold, with the kind of damp December chill that seeps into your bones and stays there. I wake up in the bed that still doesn’t feel like mine, staring at the ceiling and trying to process that in a few hours, I'll be married to a man I met two weeks ago.
My mom is down the hall. She arrived last night, the first time I’ve seen her since I left the house that night after Thanksgiving to beg for more time from Neil.
She started crying the moment Finn gently escorted her into the house, and she saw me, and we hugged for what felt like a very long time, both of us crying as Ronan and Finn waited at a respectful distance.
Ronan introduced himself to my mom as my fiancé, and she thanked him for everything he’d been doing to take care of her—and me—but I could tell she had questions. So many questions, none of which have been answered yet, because she was too tired to talk for very long last night.
She looked healthier, though. It’s clear the treatments are working, that she’s getting better, even if she’s not in remission yet.
Ronan and I showed her to the guest room down the hall from mine, as if we were showing my mom to her room in our house instead of his.
It felt strange, and I could tell that it did to him, too, even if he didn’t say anything.
Ida brought her a cup of tea, and we sat by the window overlooking the snowy grounds for a few minutes. I could see the worry and confusion on my mom’s face, but all she asked me was if I was sure. I told her that I was, and she let it go at that.
I have a feeling there will be more questions later, maybe even this morning. I don’t know how there could not be—from the outside looking in, especially from my mother’s viewpoint, I can imagine how all of this seems.
Everything feels like a whirlwind. Alicia and Ronan’s sister, Annie, are supposed to be helping me get ready this morning.
I planned for my mom and me to have breakfast in her room, and then once they arrive, I asked Ida to show them to my mom’s room, where I planned on getting ready so that she wouldn’t have to move around too much until it’s time to go to the church.
I feel fidgety and nervous, and I force myself out of bed, padding to the ridiculously luxurious bathroom to shower and wash my hair.
Thirty minutes later, I stare at the package sitting in my top dresser drawer, one that I asked Catherine at the bridal boutique to source and send to me.
I needed something to go under my wedding dress, but I had no idea what, and the idea of telling Ronan I needed to go online to order overnight bridal lingerie made me feel like my head was going to explode.
So I asked her to pick something basic and appropriate for the dress and charge it, then expedite it to me.
Apparently, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do when you have immense amounts of money.
Now I’m looking at a smooth, white silk strapless bustier and a white silk thong with a tiny heart cutout at the back.
My cheeks burn just looking at it, knowing Ronan is going to see this on me later.
It feels like a massive leap from him storming out of the library after kissing me.
He hasn’t touched me since then, hasn’t done more than look at me before quickly tearing his eyes away, and tonight…
Tonight he’s going to know me more intimately than anyone else ever has. The thought makes me shiver, my skin prickling and my core warming, and I feel a surge of that nervous energy again. This feels insane, like it can’t possibly all be happening, but it is.
I slip into the bustier, turning it so I can close the hook and eye strip all the way up, and then turn it and tug it up over my small breasts, smoothing it so that everything lies in place.
I slip the silk thong on, wondering if I made the right choice by shaving everything this morning.
I don’t know what Ronan likes, so I made a guess.
Does it matter what he likes? I shake my head at myself, trying to clear it.
We’ll have sex tonight because it’s a requirement to make the marriage legal.
It has nothing to do with passion or lust, and if Ronan and I both want each other, that will just make this all easier.
This is a business transaction, not a seduction.
I don’t need to worry about any of that.
I find the thick, fluffy bathrobe hanging in my closet and tug it on, wrapping the tie tightly around my waist before I head down the hall to my mom’s room, thankfully not seeing any sign of Ronan along the way.
My mom is already awake, sitting in the armchair next to the window, and I see that Ida has already brought her some tea.
“Ida will bring breakfast up soon,” I say as I walk in, and my mom looks up, a smile on her lips.
“What a wild sentence,” she says with a small laugh. “I can see why you might want to stay, Leila. This place is beautiful. And breakfast being brought to you! What a luxury.”
“It is beautiful,” I admit, sitting down in the chair across from her. I feel too anxious to sit still, but I want to spend this time with my mom. I don’t know when I’ll get to see her again after today.
She looks so much better than she did a week ago—the new treatments Ronan arranged have brought color back to her cheeks and strength back to her voice. But her eyes are worried as she studies my face.
"Are you sure about this?" she asks for what has to be the tenth time since I told her about the wedding yesterday, on a quick call before following up with telling her that Ronan’s security would be coming to pick her up and bring her to the mansion to stay overnight before the wedding…
which was happening the next day. "Really, truly sure? "
I swallow hard before giving her the same answer that I gave her last night, and on the call before that. "Yes, Mom. I'm sure."
"But you've only known him for two weeks.
And you won't tell me anything about how you met, or why you're really doing this, or.
.." She trails off, frustration clear in her voice.
"I feel like I don't understand anything that's happening.
" She wraps her hands around her cup of tea, worry clear in her eyes. “None of this is like you, Leila. You’re not spontaneous or reckless. Is this because of my getting sick? Is it some kind of psychological thing? Living in the moment because of an awareness of mortality, or… something?”
“No! Oh my god, mom, no. Please don’t think it’s because of you.
It’s not. I haven’t lost my mind, I promise.
And I know this isn’t like me, I really do.
Trust me, I think about it all the time.
” I reach for her hands, guilt twisting in my stomach.
"I know this is confusing. I know I can't explain everything the way you want me to.
But I need you to trust me, okay? I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. "
She searches my face. "Are you in love with him?"
The question catches me off guard, but it makes sense. The whirlwind romance was what I pitched to Alicia, after all. "I… that's not really what this is about."
"Then what is it about?" She leans forward. "Leila, people don't get married after two weeks unless they're madly in love or there's something else going on. And since you're telling me it's not love..." She narrows her eyes. “Are you pregnant? Because there are other solutions.”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. “We haven’t even done… that, yet.” My cheeks color as I look down at our joined hands, trying to figure out how to explain without revealing too much. "Sometimes people get married for practical reasons. For… mutual benefit."
"An arranged marriage? Is that what’s going on here?" She sounds surprised. "In this day and age?"
"Not arranged, exactly. But not a love match either. More… convenience. God, I don’t think that’s the right word for it either. Circumstance, maybe. It’s for both our good. Mine and Ronan’s." I meet her eyes. "Does that bother you?"
She's quiet for a moment, considering. "I don’t know,” she says finally. “It’s never come up before, but… your grandmother’s marriage was arranged.”
“Really?” I look at her with surprise. “I didn’t know that.”
Mom nods. “Your grandfather had a means of getting a job here in Boston. Our family was struggling to make ends meet during the Troubles back then. Your grandmother was the youngest, and she saw a way to take some of the pressure off of the family. She and your grandfather were friends, and they agreed to get married so that she could come with him. They would both be able to work in Boston then, they reasoned, and send more money back home. They cared about each other’s well-being, and it felt like the right thing to do.
” She pauses for a moment, thinking. “She told me once that love came later, after years of building a life together. "
“So they were in love? Eventually?”
"Oh yes.” My mom smiles. “By the end, they were devoted to each other. But it started as pure practicality." She squeezes my hands. "Is that what this is? Practicality?"
I bite my lip. It’s not the wrong word to describe it, exactly. "Something like that."
"And you're comfortable with that? Marrying someone you don't love?" She lets out a breath. “I don’t like this for you. I’ll be honest. It’s every grandparent and parent’s hope that their children and grandchildren live better lives than they did. This feels like going backwards. Like you’re giving up something for…
what, exactly? Is it the money, Leila? Do you just want to not have to worry about it any longer? ”