The Stranger

37. Spencer

Chapter 37

Spencer

“ H ave you given much thought to the type of wedding you want?” I ask my beautiful fiancée as we take a walk hand-in-hand down to the stream that runs through the middle of my estate. It’s a word I wasn’t sure I’d ever use, and one I didn’t realise I’d enjoy saying as much as I do.

“Something small,” she answers. “Just family and a few close friends.”

“Family, as in yours?”

She winces as she playfully pokes my stomach. “I have to invite them. I want my mum there. As for the other two …” She lifts one shoulder. “Unfortunately, the three of them come as a package deal. I don’t think my mother will come without them.”

I blow out an exaggerated breath. She’s a better person than I am because I have no intention of inviting my father. I haven’t heard from him since I bought him out of the company, but that does not perturb me. I want nothing to do with that man.

I have no qualms about her family being there. I’m more concerned they’ll say or do something to upset Delilah on her special day. If they do, they will be feeling my full wrath.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” I say, bringing our conjoined hands up to my mouth, so I can lay a kiss on her knuckles.

“Do you think I’m pathetic for wanting them there?”

“No!”

Sadly, she seems to believe that getting validation from them will give her inner peace. It won’t, because I’ve dealt with people like her father and sister, and they’ll never change. I can, however, understand that after chasing a pipe dream for twenty-two years, walking away can be challenging.

“Do you ever wish you had a better relationship with your father?”

“Maybe when I was younger, but now I accept it for what it is.”

“I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for them to see me. To accept me for who I am. Eventually, I know I’ll have to face the fact that no matter what I do, my family may never change … but I’m not quite there yet. Until then, I’ll continue to hold out hope.”

“Just know that your value doesn’t decrease based on someone’s inability to see your worth. You are worthy, Delilah, don’t ever forget that.”

“Thank you,” she says, tightening her grip on my hand.

“You’ll probably find your tolerance towards those who mistreat you will dwindle with age.”

“Is that what happened with your father?”

“Yes.”

“Do you plan on inviting him to our wedding?”

“No. My mother will be there, that’s all I need.”

“I don’t have a big family. My father is an only child, but my mother has one sister, so I’d like to invite her and her husband, Jim, and my two cousins, Adam and Oliver. They’ve always been kind to me. Both sets of grandparents have passed away,” she adds, doing the sign of the cross with her free hand. That action brings a smile to my face. “Why are you smiling? Do you think it’s amusing that my grandparents are no longer with us? Because that’s rather callous and cold if you do.”

“Not at all,” I reply, schooling my expression. “I’m sorry to hear that, Delilah, but that cute little sign of the cross you did was adorable.”

She rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t; it was respectful.”

I bump the tip of her nose with my finger. “I find a lot of the things you do cute.”

“Aww. I find these growly lines you get when you are annoyed kind of adorable too,” she says, tracing her fingertip along my forehead. “Or are they wrinkles?”

“Adorable is not a word I’d ever use to describe me, and no, they are not wrinkles,” I growl.

Her grin widens. “What words would you use to describe yourself then?” she asks.

“Manly for one.”

“You’re very manly,” she replies. “Oh, and handsome?”

“I’m not opposed to you saying that.”

She lets out a sweet laugh. “And mature aged.”

Letting go of her hand, I slide my arms around her waist from behind and swing her in a circle, which makes her squeal. “Are you itching for another spanking?”

“Maybe.”

I place her back on her feet and turn her to face me. “I can arrange that.”

She waggles her eyebrows. “That’s what I was aiming for. ”

I bark out a laugh. I hope this woman knows the joy she brings to my life. Not a day passes that I’m not grateful to have her by my side.

Leaning in, I place my lips against hers, because I’ll never miss an opportunity to kiss or touch this woman. My favourite moments always include her. “I love you.”

“I know,” she says, her blue eyes sparkling. “Do you know where we should have the wedding?”

“Where?”

“Here, at the estate. How pretty would that be?”

This place has always been special to me, even more so now that I get to spend our weekends here together. “If that’s what you want, we’ll make it happen. The sooner the better.”

Her eyes slightly widen. “Like how soon?”

“How does the end of the month sound? We’ve been engaged for months now; we should set a date.”

“I agree, but this month?” she squeaks. “I don’t even have a dress yet.”

“I bet you and my mother could find you the perfect dress by tomorrow if need be.”

“I don’t doubt that, but what about catering? Three weeks isn’t a long time. I’d be lucky if I could find someone with an availability with such short notice. They’re probably booked out months, if not years, in advance.”

“Nothing is impossible when you have money, Delilah.”

“Ooh, sorry, Mr Fancy-pants. Sometimes I forget you’re a gazillionaire and can buy things mere mortals can’t.”

“Are you mocking me, future Mrs Fancy-pants?”

She throws her head back and laughs, so I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck. “You’ll be a gazillionaire by the end of the month. Once we are married, what’s mine will become yours.”

Drawing her face back, she gives me a serious look. “I don’t want your money, Spencer … all I want is you.”

“You’ve got me, for as long as you want me.”

“How does forever sound?”

“It sounds perfect.”

“Can you believe this is our life?” she asks, snuggling into my side as we continue our walk. “Sometimes I feel the need to pinch myself.”

I drape my arm over her shoulder and pull her closer as I place a soft kiss on her hair. “Sometimes life will take you to unexpected places, sweetheart, but true love will always bring you home.”

By the end of the month, as expected, my mother was able to perform miracles. I almost can’t believe that it’s the night before our wedding day.

Delilah’s dress, which I’m yet to see, is hanging in one of the spare rooms upstairs, and a giant, outdoor marquee was erected today on the grounds, facing the beautiful picturesque view at the rear of the property.

A team of florists, decorators, and caterers will arrive first thing in the morning to finish the last-minute preparations for our big day. Delilah commissioned a local artist to build her a rustic, wooden arbour with floral accents, whatever that means, down by the stream—her favourite spot and where our wedding is being held.

We have only invited fifty guests, with the majority set to arrive tomorrow, but tonight we are hosting our immediate families .

Which should make for an interesting evening— or a disaster in the making.

Delilah’s parents, sister, and newborn nephew are due to arrive shortly. Thankfully, fuckface will not be accompanying them. He stuck by Abigail for the duration of her pregnancy, but when the baby was born with jet-black hair and an olive complexion, he walked out of the delivery room and never returned. I’m gathering she got more than a free holiday and a tan when they vacationed in Hawaii.

My mother has been here since yesterday, with her minions in tow, to direct the workman. I could tell she was in her element. We’ve virtually given her free rein. The only thing that’s important to us is the exchanging of vows. Words that will bond us for the rest of our lives.

When our company finally arrives, it’s awkward, to say the least. Delilah acts like she’s happy to see them, and maybe she is. Me? Not so much. I can tolerate Mrs St. James, but the other two …

After she hugs the three of them and introduces them to my mother, Delilah makes a beeline for the pram where her new baby nephew lays, wrapped up in blankets like a tiny burrito.

“Oh, look how little he is,” she coos. “Can I hold him?” she tentatively asks her sister.

“No,” Abigail barks in reply as her narrowed eyes move around the expansive foyer of my estate.

“Abigail,” her mother chastises.

“Fine, whatever,” she retorts with a flick of her hand. I hear my mother clear her throat from beside me. “Is this where you live?” Abigail asks Delilah .

“This is their weekend home?” my mother answers, and I love that she said their .

“Weekend home? Where do you live during the week?”

“In Spencer’s penthouse. It overlooks Sydney Harbour,” Delilah replies with a shrug. “It’s close to his office.”

“In a penthouse that overlooks Sydney Harbour,” Abigail mocks under her breath, and she’s already grating on my last nerve.

Green is not a good colour on her.

Delilah ignores her as she gently scoops up the baby and nestles him in her arms. And I loathe that these people think it’s okay to treat her so abysmally. Seeing her holding that child in her arms, though, looking down at him so lovingly, has something inside my chest cracking wide open.

She loves so freely … so openly. These people don’t deserve her.

Delilah never went to the hospital when the baby was born. She wanted to, but wasn’t sure if she’d be welcome and didn’t want to upset anyone with her presence. She sent some flowers and a gift for her nephew; she is thoughtful and caring like that.

“I have all your rooms ready,” Delilah says to her family. “I bought a brand-new cot and change table to put in your room, Abigail.”

Abigail’s face rears back like she’s been slapped. I kind of wish she had been. “You did?”

“I wanted my nephew to be comfortable.”

“That was very sweet of you, Lilah,” her mother praises.

The green-eyed monster mumbles something incoherent under her breath .

Delilah moves to stand beside me as her eyes flicker from the baby to me. “Isn’t he just the cutest little thing?”

I look down at the tiny infant’s chubby cherub face and smile. “He is,” I agree, which is surprising since he spawned from the womb of the She-Devil herself.

Delilah’s gaze moves back to her family. “Would you like me to show you to your rooms so you can freshen up? Dinner will be served on the back patio in an hour.”

“That would be lovely, Delilah. Thank you,” her mother answers.

Delilah places her lips softly against the baby’s cheek before gently placing him back in the pram. When she moves towards the staircase, I reach for the suitcase in her mother’s hand. “I’ll take that for you, Mrs St. James.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Spencer.”

When I hear her husband grunt behind me, I have to bite my tongue. Just the thought of sharing a meal with these people is enough to give me indigestion.

Delilah is rushing around in the kitchen like a chook with her head cut off, doing a hundred things at once. “You should’ve let me get tonight catered for,” I tell her.

She looks up from whatever she’s stirring in the pot and blows a wayward strand of hair out of her face. “I wanted to cook for everyone.”

“I know you did, sweetheart,” I say, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her tiny waist as I rest my chin on her shoulder. “It’s the night before your big day. You should be relaxing or getting pampered.”

“I’ll let you rub my feet later.”

“Gladly. What can I do to help?”

She hands me the spoon she’s holding. “Can you continue stirring the gravy while I grab the chicken out of the oven?”

“I can do that.”

“Make sure the spoon touches the bottom of the pan while you’re stirring so it doesn’t get all lumpy down the bottom.”

“I think I can manage this, Delilah.”

“Says the man who ruined my bechamel sauce last time he tried to help.”

I bark out a laugh. “I was an amateur back then … I’m a pro now.”

Her eyebrows spring up near her hairline, but she doesn’t call me out on my bullshit.

Tonight is important to her, I can tell. She wants to impress her family, but I’d be surprised if any of them even appreciate the effort she’s gone to.

“Something smells nice,” her mother says, entering the kitchen.

“I’m trying to recreate your roast chicken. I know it’s one of Dad’s favourites.”

“Oh, let’s see,” she replies, stepping up to the oven to peer inside. “That looks wonderful, Lilah.” And now I feel like an arsehole for always thinking the worst of these people. She eyes me by the stovetop. “It’s nice to see you helping in the kitchen. My husband could take a leaf out of your book.”

“Hmm,” I hum under my breath.

“Where is Dad?” Delilah asks.

“He and Abby have taken the baby for a walk outside.” I glance in her direction and notice the smile on her face doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It hurts her to know she’ll never have that type of relationship with her father. I get it, I do. I’ve never been close with my dad, but I also never had to witness him bond with another sibling. “You don’t mind if they walk around the property, do you?”

“Of course not,” Delilah replies. “I want you guys to feel comfortable while you’re here.”

Not too comfortable.

The sooner these people leave, the better.

“It’s so beautiful here,” her mother says.

“Isn’t it? We occasionally see platypus swimming in the stream and have kangaroos on the property often.”

“How lovely.”

When the food is ready, I help my mother set the table, while Delilah’s mum helps her plate everything up.

The other two grifters eventually wander up to join us, which has my mother pouring herself a second glass of wine.

She probably needs it to get through the next hour. I could use a stiff drink myself, but I need to remain vigilant around these people, for Delilah’s sake, not my own.

Once we’ve taken our seats, the food is brought out. The sweet smile on Delilah’s face hits me right in the chest. I can see how proud she is. Unfortunately, that look of pride falls right off her face when her father is the first to start.

“You are a guest,” he says to his wife when she places his meal down in front of him. “You shouldn’t be slaving away in the kitchen.” His accusing eyes move to me. “If these people can afford to live in a house such as this, they should have help waiting on them … not my wife.”

These people?

“Delilah cooked the meal all on her own,” she says in her daughter’s defence. “I only helped with the plating.”

“You don’t need to lie for her, Mum,” Abigail chimes in .

“She’s not lying,” I grate out as I simultaneously count to ten in my head.

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” her father grumbles.

“If you are going to make unfounded accusations, I’ll be giving my opinion whether it is asked for or not.” The room falls quiet as Delilah’s shaking hands place a plate down in front of me. “Thank you. It looks delicious, sweetheart,” I say as my hand moves to the small of her back to comfort her.

Mrs St. James places the next dish in front of Abigail, who immediately screws up her nose. She leans in and inspects her plate before moving her attention towards her sister. I brace myself for the venom I know she’s about to spew.

My hand is still resting on the small of her back, and when I feel her body stiffen, she knows what’s coming as well.

“You rub this fancy house in our faces and then serve us peasant food?”

I hear my mother take in a sharp breath from beside me. “Delilah chose this meal specifically because she knew it was your father’s favourite,” I snarl.

Abigail rolls her eyes as she leans forward in her chair to make eye contact with her father. “You’re such a suck, Delilah. Isn’t she, Daddy?”

I open my mouth to speak, but my mother beats me to it. “Enough,” she roars, throwing her cloth napkin on the table. “I refuse to sit here and listen to you ridicule, disrespect, and talk down to your hosts.” She points at Delilah’s father first before moving her finger in Abigail’s direction. “My son is a good man and loyal to a fault. Which is more than I can say for the last man in Delilah’s life. I’m sure you’d agree with me there, Abigail.” Her attention then turns back to Delilah’s parents. “You may not be thrilled about this union, but Spencer worships the ground your daughter walks on. He shows her nothing but kindness, understanding, love, and respect. As a parent myself, I’d like to think you wouldn’t expect anything less for your child. He has and will continue to give your daughter a life that most can only dream of.

“As for Delilah,” she continues. “If she were my daughter, I’d be celebrating her for being a kind, strong, and resilient woman. You should be incredibly proud of the beautiful person she is, inside and out, despite all the injustices she’s had to face throughout her life. You all need to take a long, hard look at yourselves for the deplorable way you have, and continue to treat her. I’m flabbergasted that Delilah still chooses to have you in her life, which says way more about her character than it does about yours.”

“Now listen here,” her father barks, but my mother stands and gives him a look so sharp it has him closing his mouth immediately.

Mum’s steely gaze then snaps to Abigail. “And as for you, young lady, and I use the term lady loosely. I’ve never had the displeasure of meeting such a rude, nasty, and vile person in my life. I pity that poor child having to grow up with a mother like you.”

“If I wanted your opinion, old lady, I would’ve asked for it,” Abigail spits while sending daggers my mother’s way.

“Abigail,” her mother screeches. “Apologise this instant.”

“Fine … sorry,” she mumbles with zero sincerity.

I promised Delilah I’d be on my best behaviour where her family was concerned this weekend, but I can no longer sit here and watch these two disrespect the most important women in my life. I don’t give a flying fuck that they share the same bloodline as my fiancée. Their actions tonight have been deplorable.

When I go to stand, my mother places her hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got this, Son,” she says. “If you two can’t—” she points to Delilah’s father again before repeating her actions with Abigail, “—in good conscience, put all your grievances and grudges aside for one day to celebrate these two wonderful human beings, then maybe it’s best if you leave.” Her attention moves away from our guests and lands on us. “If you two will excuse me, I’ve had about as much as I can take for one evening, and I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow.”

As she turns to leave, Delilah places the other plate she was holding down, and rushes in her direction. “Eloise,” she murmurs, sliding her arms around my mother’s waist. “I love you.”

Those words have my mother choking up as she tenderly cups Delilah’s face in her hands. “I love you too, darling. You’ve made not only this old woman— ” her eyes dart to Abigail when she says that part, “—but also my son, extremely happy. I’ll always cherish you for that. Please know that we both see you for all the wonderful things that you are. And tomorrow you’ll officially become a Prescott, and what a glorious day that will be.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I say, reaching for my mother’s wine glass and briefly holding it in the air before gulping down the rest of its contents.

I grin inwardly at the thought that one day, when Delilah is ready, I hope we can add a few little Prescotts to the picture.

“You don’t look nervous at all,” my mother says as she reaches up to straighten my bowtie.

“Should I be?”

“It’s your wedding day, but you were always such a confident little boy … so sure of yourself. I shouldn’t be surprised that the grown-up version is no different.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing Delilah walk down the aisle. This day couldn’t have come soon enough if you ask me.”

She taps her open palm against my chest. “I’m immensely proud of the determined, kind, hardworking, and loving man you’ve become. I hope you know that. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner for you, even if I handpicked her myself.”

“Please, no tears,” I plead when I see them well in her eyes. “In a way, you played your part in this union.”

“I suppose I did,” she replies, snatching a tissue from the nightstand and dabbing the corners of her eyes.

“You suppose? Don’t act coy mother, you know as well as I do that you tricked me into going to Delilah’s parents’ house that night.”

She places her hand on her chest to fake innocence. “I would never.”

“Really? You told me she was expecting me , when in actual fact she was expecting you .”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” I reply with a chuckle.

“I was just doing what mothers do best.”

“Meddle in their children’s lives?”

“No, I was giving you a gentle push in the right direction. I saw how special she was the first day we met, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you saw the same thing.”

“A gentle push or a shove? ”

“Same, same,” she says, flicking her hand. “And I’m sorry for the tears … I’ve just waited a long time for this day. For a while there, I was worried it would never happen.”

I tenderly grasp her shoulders and lean in to place my lips against her cheek. “Thank you for always being there for me, and for manipulating me into going to her house that night because it inadvertently turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I appreciate you, Mother.” But the moment those words are out of my mouth, I tilt my head back and groan because it has her tears reappearing.

“I guess I should get out there and make sure everything is in order,” she sniffles, dabbing her eyes again. “I also want to monitor that retched woman and her father.”

“Good luck with that.”

“They were on their best behaviour at breakfast this morning, so I hope I don’t need it. If all else fails, the pair of them may end up going for an unplanned swim in that delightful little stream out back.”

I bark out a laugh as she turns to leave the room.

Despite the disastrous start to our dinner party last night, surprisingly it still went ahead—sans my mother of course. It was quiet and a tad awkward. Somewhat strained conversation flowed intermittently between Delilah, me, and her mother. The other two thankfully kept their mouths shut.

When the meal was complete, they hightailed it to their rooms while the three of us were left to tidy up.

Delilah’s mother hugged her tightly before she retired for the evening, and said, “I love you. Never forget that, sweetie. From the moment you were conceived, I wanted you, and that hasn’t changed. I’m proud of the woman you are, and so happy you found a man who worships the ground you walk on.”

My mother’s harsh words from earlier must have had some effect on her, and I was grateful for that.

Delilah made a sandwich and a cup of tea for my mother once we’d finished cleaning the kitchen and took it up to her room. She was in there for a good hour, and when she came to our bedroom looking for me, she was smiling. Between her mother’s words, and whatever mine had said to her, her spirits had gotten a much-needed boost.

By morning, it was like the events of the night before had never happened. My mother brought in a team of hairstylists and makeup artists, who arrived at the estate early to work their magic. Not that my girl needed any of that. Her sister, though, would need a lot more than makeup to hide the ugliness that lies within.

Delilah included her mother and her sister in the pampering because, despite it all, her kind heart will always win out in the end. It’s just the person she is. Some may see that as a flaw or weakness, but I see it for what it is. She’s simply being kind to the unkindest of people because, in her eyes, they are the ones who need it most.

When our guests begin to arrive, I make my way downstairs. The nerves my mother mentioned earlier have still not hit. I’m wondering if they will. This is a day I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. And as long as Delilah makes her way down that aisle towards me, I have nothing to fear.

We have a fleet of golf buggies on-site to ferry our guests down to the stream where the ceremony will be held.

I’m still feeling perfectly composed as I mill around with some of our guests while waiting for the bride to arrive. I did, however, have to rescue my lawyer from my mother’s clutches—thankfully, his wife, Brooke, found it thoroughly amusing. She conveniently sat them both at her table for the duration of the reception, which I’m sure was a calculated move on her part. I know it is harmless, but I still find her actions shameless. I don’t doubt that she and Brooke will be the best of friends by the time the evening is over.

When the celebrant notifies me the bride is on her way, it’s time for me to take my place by the altar. My stomach chooses that very moment to lurch.

My hands twitch as I move to stand in front of the beautifully decorated arbour. It has been made from branches—that the artist collected from our property—which have been entwined together to form an arch. There’s sheer, white fabric scalloped along the top and a bouquet of native wildflowers bunched in each corner. I couldn’t envision it when Delilah told me what she wanted, but I love all her personal touches, and it suits the scenery.

The entire surroundings look amazing, and Delilah was right; this is the perfect backdrop for our wedding. I shove my hands into the pockets of my trousers as I turn and watch the bride being chauffeured towards us. A long strip of white carpet has been laid down in the centre and is flanked on either side with rows of white wooden chairs.

I’m grinning like a lovesick fool when the cart pulls to a stop. My mother is waiting there to help her exit. Not only does my breath hitch in my throat when she steps down and I get the first glimpse at her dress, but something unexpected happens … my eyes cloud over.

I clear my throat and tilt my head towards the blue, cloudless sky above. It’s a colour very similar to Delilah’s pretty eyes. Blinking rapidly, I try to pull myself together as my bride prepares to make her way down to me.

Delilah takes her position as my mother fusses over the back of her dress, making sure it’s fanned out perfectly where it lies against the ground. When she turns briefly to kiss my mother’s cheek and thank her, I get a glimpse at the back of her dress … or lack thereof. It tapers down, forming a large ‘V’ that ends at the base of her spine. A low growl rumbles in the back of my throat at the sight of all that bare flesh.

I’m now looking forward to seeing all of her from behind because her formfitting gown doesn’t flare out until mid-thigh, which means it is hugging that luscious peachy arse of hers. It’s one of many parts of her body that I’m obsessed with.

When the first beats of the song Delilah chose, “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri, start playing, the moisture in my eyes returns. I can’t remember the last time I became so emotional, but I know it wasn’t during my adult years, which Delilah would tease was a very long time.

As she gets closer, I can make more details out. Her gown is made from elegant rose embroidered lace that accentuates every curve on her petite body. Thin straps hold the bodice up and it has a fit-and-flare silhouette skirt that flows into a long train in the rear. The ivory fabric is illuminated further by her tanned, silky soft skin.

Her long blonde hair has been left down and the loose curls cascade over one shoulder. The other side has been pulled back by a row of fresh white roses, resembling the ones in her bouquet. She’s a vision of femininity.

In a genuine show of strength, she chose to walk herself down the aisle today. “He never wanted to be my father, so he doesn’t deserve the honour of giving me away,” was what she said. It broke my heart to hear those words from her, but to say I’m proud of her for making a stance is an understatement. Is it wrong of me to hope he’s having regrets? Although judging by his eldest daughter’s unscrupulous character, he might get many opportunities to do it with that one.

Pushing thoughts of them from my mind because they are not worth my time, I focus my attention solely on the woman who is going to become my wife in a matter of minutes.

Her beaming smile matches mine as she takes the first step towards the rest of our lives.

I’m humbled knowing she had enough courage to take a leap of faith with me and give love another try. I won’t let her down like the last man did. I’ll cherish this woman, and all that she represents, with everything I have … in this life, and the next.