Page 28 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)

She went ahead of him into the bathroom, and it was everything she had fantasized.

There was a walk-in glass shower. There was a free-standing tub positioned in front of the windows.

There was soft music on the sound system and as soon as he set the candles down and lit them, there were tiny, flickering flames.

Moving to where she stood, Tom took her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “There’s supposed to be another of these. I’m going to find the other one. Take your time.” As he left the room, he switched off the overhead lights, leaving just the glow of candlelight.

While the water ran, she stripped off her skirt and top.

A low wooden table stood next to the tub and she arranged two of the candles and her wine glass there.

The fluffy white towels she had hoped for were hanging within reach, along with a white cotton robe.

At this moment, her every need was met, and she knew that any other needs she might have would be met soon.

She stepped into the tub and let herself slide down until the water reached her chin. Then she submerged completely, letting the dust and heat and worry of the day wash away. When she came up, her mind began to clear at last.

Laying back, she rested her neck on the curved porcelain surface and considered the events of the last two days.

Much had gone wrong–almost everything, really.

And there had been some major curveballs, to say the least. This was not unheard of for her, if you left out the getting-married-to-a-virtual-stranger part.

But Tom was an architect; presumably his work life involved few unpleasant surprises and no disasters. Yet through it all, he had been calm and collected. He didn’t complain or lose his cool, he didn’t get cranky and snap.

In fact, whenever possible, he had made things easier for her.

More than just easier–look at this hotel suite. He arranged it, he opened the champagne, he lit the candles, even knew when to disappear for a while.

He was what–fifteen years younger? That had seemed like an unbridgeable divide at first, as if they could have nothing at all in common.

As if he were a child in comparison.

The realization hit her now, and she took a sip of her Champagne as she let it sink in.

Yes, he was younger than she was, but he was an adult .

A full, legitimate, card-carrying adult, responsible for himself and his choices.

An accomplished professional with an established career, a person who had been raised on another continent with advantages she could only dream about.

Maybe to him, she appeared to be the child!

She sat up, thinking hard now. It would be na?ve to think there were no stresses or challenges in a May-December relationship. Make that June-September, she corrected herself.

She knew a little bit about Katie’s relationship with James McCormick, before she’d met and married Patrick.

This was nothing like that. James had been looking for an ornament, not a partnership.

The age difference itself was what he sought; he’d been lucky to find Katie, but any attractive and much younger woman would have done just as well.

And for a certain type of man, in the eyes of certain other men, it was a source of admiration and respect, proof of virility.

When the roles were reversed, not so much.

Relationships that don’t fit a cultural mold make people nervous.

By this point in life, she understood that no one– no one –knows what goes on in someone else’s marriage.

Sometimes even the married couple themselves don’t know.

But people love to speculate, to assume. It takes courage to ignore that.

What was she doing right now but trying to ignore her own assumptions?

And it hadn’t helped that Nessa had pitched a fit at the very idea of Tom and her mother. It was a perfect example, really: Nessa had pestered and nagged and cajoled Ranney to date, until the man she might date turned out to be younger.

Suddenly, it was a very different story.

There was a tap on the door and she jumped as if a firecracker had exploded.

“Need a refill?” Tom called. The wine was delicious and she would have loved a refill, as it happened, but in her current state, there was no way she was inviting him into the room.

“Um, I’ll be out in a few minutes? But thank you.”

“Take your time.”

“Tom? Could you bring my bag?”

“I’ll leave it outside the door.”

“Thank you.”

When she reached forward to open the drain, a glint of gold on her left hand caught her eye. She brushed the soap bubbles off and held her hand flat in front of her. It looked so right, it felt so right, but it was true that she barely knew him.

They had, she reminded herself, never even slept together.

That was about to change.

Stepping out of the tub, she moved to the shower to rinse off and shampoo her hair. Having even this basic set of tasks kept her from having to focus on what would happen next, when she emerged from her sanctuary and came face to face with…

Her husband.