Page 35

Thomas

As it turns out, it’s difficult to have a wedding rehearsal without the bride. It’s even worse when you don’t know where she is or when she’ll be back—if ever.

I’ve hidden myself away in the attic of the Cotswolds house, avoiding anyone and everyone. Fielding questions as to Stella’s whereabouts from my mother and the wedding planners has been a nightmare, because there are only so many ways and times I can say she’ll be here before people start thinking she isn’t going to show. And there’s a chance she won’t. This could already be over without me even knowing.

Doesn’t mean I’m not trying to find out, though. Her phone is either off or dead, because every time I call, it goes straight to voicemail. There’s also the worse option, that she’s blocked my number, but I’m trying my best to stay positive. Do I have any reason to? No, none at all, minus the fact that I don’t think Stella would do that.

I just need an answer, a definitive yes or no. A yes, we’re still going through with this wedding or a no, and here are the divorce papers, goodbye! I can’t stand this limbo, but I have no idea how to break free.

In my hand, my phone buzzes with a text from Maeve. Found out Stella’s at least in the country , the message reads. I very kindly asked her assistant where she was and I got a copy of her flight itinerary in return. She landed at Heathrow a couple hours ago.

Very kindly in Maeve’s book means there were at least three threats of bodily harm, one attempt at blackmail, and a half-assed apology when the information she wanted came through. I might normally scold her for the actions, but the woman gets stuff done. And in this case, she did exactly what I needed.

I reply with my thanks and blow out a breath, my heart lifting ever so slightly out of the despair it’s been simmering in. I want to be relieved that Stella’s made it back to this side of the pond, but if she has, then where the fuck is she? She knows this is happening today—right now—and yet she still isn’t here.

A knock on the door has my head snapping up, hope swelling in my chest at the thought it might be Stella. But it deflates like a sad clown’s balloon when Figgy pops her head in. Great. Of course she’s here. This whole second wedding is happening because of her meddling, so I should have expected it.

“I figured you’d be hiding up here,” she says, pushing the door open enough to slip inside.

I appreciate that she’s quick to close it behind her and keep my whereabouts private, but I’m in no mood to talk, especially not to her. Still, I grunt and say, “You caught me.”

She glances around the space, past the old sofa I’m sitting on and the wooden wardrobes housing various antique clothes and keepsakes. When she realizes I’m alone, her brow scrunches in confusion. “Where’s Stella?”

I could lie to her like I have to everyone else, and I probably should, considering the circumstances, but the idea of saying she’ll be here soon one more time makes me sick.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

But Figgy doesn’t seem to understand. “Don’t tell me you’re hiding from her too,” she teases. “Not a good look from the groom, I must say.”

“No, that’s not—” I cut short and shove a hand through my hair, pulling on the roots. “She’s not here, Figgy. Stella’s not at the house.”

Figgy frowns. “Well, is she on her way?”

Again, all I can say is “I don’t know.”

The words come out incriminatingly choked. She stares at me for a few seconds, trying to put the pieces together with the clues I’ve given her. Her frown deepens, but it’s the genuine concern written across her face that forces me to look away as my stomach sinks to hell.

“Thomas,” she says softly, stepping closer until she’s able to crouch down in front of me. “What’s going on?”

This is a glimpse of the Figgy I’ve always known, not the one who’s appeared over the past few years as the pressure to land me as a romantic partner grew and grew. It’s nice to see her again, and it makes me want to tell her the whole truth, even though this scheme with Stella was to get her off my back. Maybe I’ve underestimated her empathy and ability to understand the stakes. Deep down, I don’t think she actually wants to be with me. She’s been pushed toward the idea of me, of what I represent, of the things I could give to her.

Neither of us should be resigned to leading half lives in a loveless marriage, and even if things with Stella fall apart, I still want Figgy to find the person meant for her.

I must be taking too long to answer, because she reaches out and squeezes my knee. “You don’t have to tell me,” she murmurs. “And for what it’s worth…I’m sorry.”

My eyes lift from the floor to meet her gaze, a little stunned to hear the apology. “What?”

She blows out a breath, but to her credit, she doesn’t look away. “I won’t pretend I understand what the situation with you and Stella is, but it’s clear you really care about her. Love her, even.”

I’ve been telling myself not to use that word because it’s too soon. It might scare not just Stella off, but me too. But that’s what this is, isn’t it? This gut-twisting, heart-aching, bone-deep pull toward her can’t be anything else.

“That part, I get,” Figgy goes on with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I knew the second you brought her here that my chances of us ever being together were gone. And it hurt, which is why I told your mother my suspicions. She might have planned this whole wedding to test your relationship, but anyone can see the way you look at Stella. There’s nothing you need to prove.”

She gives my knee one last squeeze before drawing back and standing. Her posture is stiff, like this is hard for her to admit. Despite the differences we’ve had lately, I’m proud of her.

“I’m sorry for the role I played,” she declares. “I would really like to have my friend back. Shockingly, no one else will traipse through sheep shit with me just to watch the sunset.”

That drags a weak laugh out of me. “I’ll still happily do that with you.” I sober again, really letting myself look at her for the first time in ages. She’s not a bad person and never has been. She’s a woman shoved into a role that she followed to the best of her abilities, who now has to figure out how to live without a map guiding her every step. “You’re going to find your person, Figgy.”

Her smile says she doesn’t quite believe me, but she doesn’t try to argue. “I’ll do my best to stall your mother. And if I see Stella, I’ll bring her up.”

I nod my thanks before she turns away, leaving without another word. I’ll have to step out eventually to explain that the wedding is off on account of the bride ghosting me, but for now, I’ll sit and sulk.

I drop my head back against the sofa, eyes sliding shut, wishing this didn’t burn me from the inside out. None of this was in my plans, from marrying a stranger to falling for her. I didn’t think being without Stella for mere days would reduce me to such a mess, but she’s burrowed her way into every aspect of my life.

But I have to face the facts—she isn’t coming back.

Before I can convince myself to go downstairs, though, raised voices from outside catch my attention. There’s only a small window up here, overlooking the front of the house, too high up for me to peek out of, but the thin pane allows sound to travel in. I can’t make out the words, but the voices are both high-pitched and snappy. Probably my mother starting a fight with one of the vendors who isn’t willing to put up with her bullshit. It’s a sign I should get up and intervene. No one needs to suffer through Iris’s control issues.

There must be anvils on my shoulders with how hard it is to stand, and even once I’m on my feet, I can’t make them move. The noise outside seems to have stopped, so at least there’s no rush to fix that.

I’m about to force myself into walking when the sound of footsteps thudding up the stairs reaches me. No, not thudding, clicking . The telltale sound of high heels. Figgy was wearing boots when she came in, and I can’t imagine any of the vendors would wear heels while having to traverse the grounds. So unless it’s Calais or Geneva or one of their supermodel friends, it must be—

A breathless Stella in all her stilettoed glory bursts into the room.

“Mother fucker ,” she pants.

As she bends over to put her hands on her knees, I stand stock-still, taking her in. Am I…Am I hallucinating? I don’t think I’ve reached the level of desperate pining where I would imagine her bent over and breathing hard without me having something to do with it.

I blink a few more times for good measure, but Stella doesn’t disappear. “You’re here.”

She’s still breathing hard, hands moving to her hips as she straightens up, but she cracks a smile. “I wasn’t going to miss out on a chance to have a party.”

I want to laugh, to get out all the stress of the past several days, and yet I’m so shocked that I can’t make a sound.

“I would have called,” Stella rambles on, “but I wanted to surprise you. Grand gesture, you know? Also, I had to drive myself here from the airport—long story, don’t ask—and…let’s just say I should never be allowed to do that again. But then I got stuck in the worst traffic and I couldn’t let anyone know I would be late because my useless American phone decided it didn’t want to work, and—” She cuts short, sucking in another breath. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I just couldn’t miss this.”

I have so many questions, ranging from the logistics of how she got here to why she came back. My lips part, waiting for the words to come, but all that leaves my mouth is a disbelieving huff.

Some of Stella’s humor and frenzied energy drops away at the sound, her dark eyes turning pleading. “Thomas, I’m so sorry.”

I want to tell her that she has nothing to apologize for because she’s here . It seems like there were plenty of things that tried to keep her from me and despite it all, she made it, even sprinting those last few meters to pull it off—her, the woman who hates running.

I don’t blame her for leaving and handling what she needed to, because it’s led her back to me in the end. I just need confirmation that she plans to stay. Right now, that’s all that matters. The rest is already history.

“I wanted to be back sooner,” she continues, fingers twisting in front of her stomach. “I tried, but—”

“Did you speak to étienne?” I interrupt. He’s the reason she left; I have to know if that’s resolved before I can let myself be too relieved.

Her brow creases in concern, like she’s afraid of where I’m going with this. “I did,” she answers slowly. “It wasn’t a very long conversation. I already knew what I wanted.”

Then why did it take you so long to come back?

The question must bleed into the air because she follows up with, “I couldn’t get in to see my lawyer until yesterday, but she’s handling everything now, including getting our finances separated and the properties sold. I won’t be going back anytime soon.”

My heart squeezes, praying she means what I think she does. “So…everything’s sorted?”

She nods. “It is.”

For a moment, we simply stare. We’ve both waited for this chance to be honest with each other, but now that it’s here, neither of us quite knows where to start.

But I can’t let her walk away again. I need a definitive answer so I don’t have to hold back any longer—so I can finally stop keeping the secret of how much I want her in my life.

“I think it’s time for you to decide whether this is real or just for show, Stella,” I say, because that’s what this comes down to, isn’t it? Real or fake. Yes or no.

Stay or leave.

The flash in her eyes tells me she recognizes the words from our first night in Vegas. The context was different then, yes, but it still applies now, more so than ever.

And to my immense relief, her answer hasn’t changed.

“I want it to be real.”

She’s in my arms before I know what’s happening, and whether it was me who moved first or her, I couldn’t say. But none of that matters. I only care that Stella’s back where she belongs.

“I missed you,” she says against my neck, her breath warm on my skin as she clings to me. “I thought about you every second I was gone.”

“I haven’t been able to breathe since you left.” It’s only now that I can inhale deeply, her sweet citrus scent easing the last of the knots in my chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me again.”

Horrified, I draw back enough so that she’s forced to look up at me. “How could you think that?”

Her dark eyes are anguished. “Because I hurt you and—”

“No, you didn’t,” I firmly cut her off. “You left because you had to clear a path for us. That didn’t hurt me. The idea that you might not come back did, but you’re here now.”

“You really don’t hate me for leaving?” she asks cautiously, but there’s a hint of hope in her expression.

“I could never hate you.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on the corner of her jaw. “God, Stella, I’m fucking crazy about you. You must know that, right?”

Finally, the corners of her lips start to flicker up. “I’m starting to get the idea. But…maybe you could tell me more?”

There she is—there’s my girl. “I’m crazy about your smile,” I say, “your laugh, your fucked-up sense of humor. I’m crazy about how you come off so confident, even when you don’t feel that way, but just by faking it you have the whole world eating out of the palm of your hand…Should I go on?”

She squeezes me tighter, gazing up into my face like she doesn’t ever want to look away. “Keep going.”

I’ll happily oblige. “I’m crazy about how caring and considerate you are. How you’ve tried so hard to help me, to make my life better in so many big and little ways. How you always make me want to do and be better—to ask for better.” Leaning down, I press a kiss to the spot right below her ear. It earns me that little shiver I love, but most importantly, it’s a guarantee that she won’t miss what I have to say next. “I’m crazy about everything you are, Stella.”

She gives a small, contented sigh, melting against my chest. “So…does that mean you want this to be real too?”

That drags a laugh out of me. How could this mean anything else? But I’ll give her whatever reassurance she wants and needs. I’ll do it every single day until it soaks in so deeply that she never doubts it. “Yes, I want this to be real. I want us to give this a real shot.”

“Good,” she whispers, lips trailing up my neck. “Because I can’t imagine my life without you anymore. No one else is you. And you’re everything I want. Everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

My head spins, blood rushing so hard and fast I can hear my pulse in my ears, spreading joy to every cell of my body. Still, I try to play it as cool as I can. “Then I guess we should go get married. Again. Really solidify this commitment to a real relationship, you know?”

Stella laughs, and the sound settles around my heart. “We’ve gotta stop doing all this stuff out of order,” she says. “So, what, we’re getting married so we can…date?”

“You have something against dating your husband?” I ask in mock offense.

She shakes her head, hands lifting to cup my jaw. “I would love to date my husband. See where it goes.”

I lean into her touch. “We don’t have to rush into anything. We can take this as slow as you want.”

“I don’t want to take it too slow,” she warns. “We’ve been waiting long enough for some things.”

I agree, but I’ll be taking this at Stella’s pace. I’m content to just be on the ride together.

“You’re right,” I murmur, eyes dropping to her mouth. “There are some things we really need to do.”

She’s slowly dragging my face down, and I don’t resist. Our lips are bare centimeters apart when she whispers, “I think we should start here.”

I’m the one who closes the distance this time, our lips meeting sweet and slow. It’s the perfect way to seal our promises to each other. It’s the taste of her I’ve been hungry for in the weeks we’ve been strangers. It’s everything I need.

And so is she.