Chapter 29
Skylar
"Here you go." My husband pours Champagne into a flute and places it in front of me.
After the wedding ceremony, he asked me if I wanted to stay for the reception organized by the wedding planner.
Of course I wanted to, and not only because the setting in the third tent looked so pretty.
Once more, he seemed to have read my mind, with the long table set up in the center of the tent so our friends could sit around the table and relax while a team of staff served us.
We sat at one end of the table, Sinclair and Summer at the opposite end.
Zoey sat next to me, and to her credit, she hadn’t even looked in Nate’s direction.
There had been a toast from Sinclair, who seemed to have taken on the unofficial duties of a best man.
Then Zoey raised her glass and said how happy she was about our union.
She also managed to weave in a warning aimed at my husband that he’d better treat me right, to which he graciously nodded his head.
He didn’t say a word throughout the dinner.
He also didn’t eat. As the Champagne was downed and the noise level at the table increased, his jaw had grown increasingly tense.
His color began to fade, and his hold on his glass of water grew tighter.
His gaze was focused on some faraway place where I couldn’t reach him, and he didn’t answer any of the good-natured ribbing coming his way.
I sensed Dr. Weston—who my husband had introduced me to earlier—shoot him a couple of strange glances, but my husband didn’t notice.
He seemed to grow more and more distant as the minutes wore on.
When I finally told him I was ready to leave, he didn’t respond.
Not until I touched his shoulder, when he visibly flinched.
And when he raised his gaze to mine, I spied shadows in them.
He rubbed his temple, and I was sure he was suffering from a headache.
I gestured to him that I wanted to leave, and he didn’t waste a second.
He jumped up, and without bidding anyone goodbye, he hustled me out of there.
To be frank, by then, everyone was in high spirits.
Sinclair and Summer were kissing, Dr. Weston had pulled his wife onto his lap.
G-Pa was trying to engage Imelda in conversation—though she was having none of it.
And Edward was seated near them, looking deeply into his wife Mira’s eyes.
As for my friends? Grace was on her phone, while Zoey had taken on the role of keeping Tiny away from the Champagne.
Nate’s other half-brothers were busy glowering at each other.
Connor is the only one who, seeing us leave, raised his glass.
All in all, none of them would miss us. My husband hustled me to the waiting car and instructed the driver to take us to his place on Primrose Hill.
He was engrossed in swiping his phone screen, and I was left with a sense of letdown. I stared at my wedding band—a simple platinum affair, which I thoroughly approve of—and tried to talk to him, but he didn’t reply.
I shot a sideways glance at the slimmer version of the band he sported on his left hand.
Apparently, he’s traditional enough to wear one, and OMG, I couldn’t stop that warmth of possessiveness from squeezing my chest when I looked at it.
I’d tried to broach the issue of our wedding bands with him, but then he accelerated the timing of the ceremony, and everything had happened so fast. Rachel told me not to worry about it, that Nate would be taking care of it, and that was that.
I raised my gaze to my husband’s face, but his brow was furrowed as he stared at his phone.
He seemed to have retreated to some part of himself with a do-not-disturb sign hung on it.
Or maybe, he just needed a little time to decompress?
It’s not every day one gets married, after all.
And that ceremony… It felt real. Genuine.
Honest. When he kissed me, it felt like a pact.
The start of something new. I wanted to ask him if he felt the same, but it didn’t seem like the right time to broach the issue.
And to be honest, I’d have been devastated if he’d said no.
I turned to share my feelings with my husband, but the frown on his face was so uninviting, I held off.
By the time we reached his place, he was more relaxed.
He told the driver to take the rest of the day off, then unlocked the door to his beautiful Victorian home and guided me inside.
He escorted me to a small table laid for two, with a bucket of Champagne on it and two chairs facing each other on the deck outside the living room.
Now, he pours Champagne for me and sparkling water for himself. Huh? Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him drinking alcohol.
“You’re a teetotaler?” I frown.
“I was never a big drinker. And once I joined the Marines, I found I was more focused, and my faculties were sharper when I abstained from alcohol. I chose to steer clear of the booze in my downtime after I returned to civilian life. It… it felt right to stay that way.” He hesitates.
“Probably has to do with seeing my mother hitting the bottle in the latter half of her life. It was her crutch for forgetting how she’d been turned away by my father’s family. ”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “It’s in the past.”
There’s so much I don’t know about him. So much I want to know about him.
“Thank you for sharing…” I swallow.
He looks at me strangely. “You’re my wife. Of course, I’d want to share that with you.”
My wife. A thrill dances up my spine. There’s a fizzing sensation in my chest that bubbles out to my extremities.
Why do I feel like I’m in over my head? Why do I already feel so much for my husband?
I glance away and pretend to be absorbed in the view of Primrose Hill, which stretches out before us.
There are a few people jogging up the slope, but otherwise, it’s quiet.
Beyond that, the city stretches out, and in the distance, I can make out the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, the soaring glass and steel facade of The Shard, the bullet-like shape of The Gherkin, and the huge wheel of the London Eye.
He turns to me and raises his glass. "To us."
I clink my glass with his and meet his mismatched gaze. "To never hiding anything from each other."
His features shutter at once, and I curse myself. My sub-conscious must have been working overtime for me to say those words. And I’m one to talk, considering I haven’t told him about Hugo yet.
His gaze narrows. "Something you want to tell me, wife?"
I swallow. It’s now or never. And I haven’t done anything wrong, after all. I place my flute of Champagne on the table between us, then fold my fingers together. "There was another reason I accepted your proposal of marriage in return for the money you offered."
"You wanted to rescue your business." He nods.
"Not just that." I hunch my shoulders.
The skin around his eyes tightens; otherwise, there’s no other reaction on his features. He raises his glass of water to his mouth and takes a sip.
The silence stretches, and I curse myself. Why did I have to bring this up now? And on our wedding day? Maybe I don’t like having this secret between us? Maybe I want to start our life together on a clean slate?
"After completing my baking course from the Master Baker Program—"
"Ben was so proud when you won the scholarship to study there. He did mention you had to take out a loan to finance your living costs though.”
“Wow, he really kept you abreast of the details.” I scowl.
“Only because he was upset he wasn’t able to help you more with the costs.” He holds up his palm. “I was his best friend, and I knew you; it was natural for him to share.”
I lock my fingers together. "I’m still paying off the loan, though the money you paid into my account should help with that, too.
" I hunch my shoulders. "Anyway, I moved to London, and apprenticed at a well-known pastry-shop, which is where I met Hugo. He was eighteen and had transitioned out of the care system. He was a brilliant baker but hadn’t been able to study it professionally, so he was stuck doing odd jobs.
He was the little brother I never had. And with Ben being away so much, I was alone. I pretty much adopted him.
“When I told him about my plans for The Fearless Kitten, he was excited. He decided to join me.” I swallow.
“A week after we opened, we were both working long hours. He’d been at the bakery until 2 a.m. the previous day and I told him he needn’t come in early the next day to help me open the shop, but he insisted.
He was exhausted and in such a hurry, he didn't strap on his helmet. As he reached the bakery, I ran onto the road in front of him. I still don’t know what possessed me to do that.
He swerved to avoid me and ended up losing control of the bike.
His helmet fell off and he hit his head on the sidewalk.
I was hurt in the accident, but my injuries weren’t serious.
Hugo, on the other hand…” I rub at my temple.
“It changed his life forever. He changed the trajectory of his bike so he wouldn’t hit me and ended up changing the trajectory of his life instead. ”
I hunch my shoulders.
“That smiling, laughing boy who’d been destined for big things, turned into someone who has the disposition of a five-year-old.
He needs around-the-clock care. Thanks to the state, I was able to find a place that could accommodate him, but I had to cover some of the costs.
Between spending time with him and trying to keep the bakery afloat, the workload became too much for me.
I wanted to shut down the pastry shop, but in his moments of coherence, Hugo would tell me to hang in there.
He’d tell me I had to give it a shot, for both of us. "
"So, you kept it going."
I nod. "Only, it began to bleed money, almost from day one. This venture has been the most intense learning experience of my life." I glance down at my hands. "It’s also been the most frightening. Every day, I’ve hoped the business would turn around. Every day, I’ve been disappointed. You know the scariest part?"
He tilts his head.
"If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. Except, I’d stop Hugo from riding his motorcycle over to the bakery that day. I can’t remember why I was standing on the road that day, but it’s my fault he crashed trying to avoid me.”
Nate’s jaw tics. A muscle works below his cheekbone, but he doesn’t say anything.
"You know what’s worse?” I shift my weight from foot to foot.
“Looking at Hugo now, taking in the dimmed light in his eyes. The way he often doesn’t know where he is and who I am.
How he sometimes thinks I’m his mother, and sometimes his sister.
How he’s still able to cook up the best burger I’ve ever tasted when you put him in a kitchen, which can only be when he’s supervised.
His muscle memory still works. Can you believe that?
It’s only his recollections of all the other incidents in his life which are deteriorating.
The doctors think his condition could worsen, and if that happens, it won’t be long before he’s catatonic. "
I look away then back at him. “I sometimes think, he’d have been better off if he’d died.
" I squeeze my eyes shut. There, I’ve said it aloud.
"I feel responsible for Hugo but also, sometimes, I resent the fact I decided to take it on. If I could have relinquished his care to the state completely, I’d have been better off…
Or so I think. And then in the next breath, I know I would never do that.
And then, I resent myself for being so selfish. "
There’s a touch on my shoulder. I snap my eyes open to find he’s squeezing it.
"It wasn’t your fault he was in an accident."
"But it was. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have veered off course and lost control of his bike and collided with the sidewalk.
Besides, he’s like my brother. If something happened to Ben…
" I draw in a breath. "If it had been Ben who was hurt on a mission, wouldn’t I take care of him? I can’t think of Hugo as my brother in one breath, and in the other, abandon him when he needs me most."