Pretend Honeymoon (Romance)

by Bella Grant

  The next morning, breakfast was a little somber given the girls’ horrific night. I would have changed my mind about telling them about the engagement, but Laurel plunged ahead and told them we were getting married. I sat with bated breath, watching for their reaction, and was relieved when they smiled although they didn’t say much. They were eager, though, when we suggested they help us plan the wedding.

  The wedding planner met us at ten at the estate, and we went through the planning easier than I would have thought possible. It would be a small affair, with Laurel’s mother and the house staff in attendance. Since both my parents were deceased—which Laurel only found out as we discussed the guest list—there was really nobody I had to invite.

  In the end, we chose the house as the venue. We would use the gardens for the ceremony as well as the reception. Anabelle and Isabelle helped to choose the wedding colors and the bouquet Laurel would carry when she walked down the aisle.

  The time flew by quickly as we prepared for the wedding, which was scheduled for two weeks after our proposal. I bought a new tux, and Laurel took the girls to get matching dresses. One would carry the rings and the other play the part of the flower girl.

  We debated over our supposed honeymoon until we agreed to take the girls with us for a week in Jamaica. Usually, I would have had Pearl take care of the arrangements, but given that I hadn’t informed her of the wedding, I couldn’t ask her to make the reservations. I handled the honeymoon, making several calls until I found a perfect villa on the beachfront.

  Only Laurel went with me to the cake testing, although at first she argued that I could choose any cake.

  “This is your wedding too,” I informed her. “I don’t want to choose a cake you don’t especially like.”

  “It’s not like it’s a real wedding.” She chuckled in amusement. “You know, you should save all this energy for your second wedding.”

  “This is as real as it will get for me,” I growled, opening the car door for her as we climbed inside.

  “I keep telling you, you’re going to get married again,” she said with a grin, and I silenced her with a stern look.

  “How is everything going on your end?” I asked her as we drove to the pastry shop the wedding planner had recommended.

  “We only need to get down the aisle,” she teased, and I marveled at her ability to be so casual and jovial about this. Meanwhile, I was smarting at her comment that this wasn’t a real wedding. She was right, but for a minute there, I wouldn’t have minded this being a real wedding. Good Lord, what was I thinking? Nothing had changed with all this planning, I tried to convince myself. We were still getting married solely for my daughters’ sake, especially now that they had established a relationship with Laurel.

  After ten years, we would still split as the contract stipulated. No sexual contact would occur between us, nor affectations, unless necessary, like a kiss we would have to share at the wedding ceremony. If that kiss turned out to be anything like the one we had shared in the restaurant, we just might have a real honeymoon after all, despite not having a genuine wedding.

  On the way to the pastry shop, I wondered whether having sex would destroy our comradery. We got along fine, and she was an open, honest person. Maybe if we established boundaries, we could also explore the attraction between us. I was certain I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

  No, no, no. Sex muddied things. Sex made everything messy. I liked her as she was now. I didn’t want the awkwardness. Rarely could a woman be sexually involved with a man and separate the sex from emotions. Laurel had made so much progress with the girls that I would do nothing to disturb that. I’d have to continue taking cold showers when I got excited by my sexy, soon-to-be wife.

  Chapter 17

  Laurel

  “I think I’ll go to bed now, Mom,” I told my mother, getting to my feet. We were seated in Mrs. Philpott’s kitchen sharing hot chocolate, but my cup was empty, and as much as I didn’t feel like sleeping, I was getting married tomorrow.

  “Yes, you should,” Mom agreed. “In a few hours, you’ll be getting married. You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

  “No, not at all,” I assured her, which was eighty percent true. The other twenty percent had to do with feelings I had for Jarrod which weren’t a part of this plan. Sometimes, I would think he felt the chemistry between us, but then he seemed oblivious. Other than the kiss at the restaurant—which had nearly incinerated my undies—he hadn’t made any other advances.

  “Okay, then, off to bed with you.” She shooed me from the kitchen. “I’ll wash up these teacups.”

  “Thanks for coming,” I told her. “Since it’s not a real marriage, I know you could have chosen to stay home. I’m glad you’re here, though.”

  “Seems real enough to me,” she commented with a knowing smile.

  Because she’d been hinting at something which confused me, I retreated and hurried for the stairs, my hands gliding along the banister. I checked on the kids, who were sleeping soundly. It had taken longer than usual to get them into bed because they were so excited about the wedding tomorrow and the part they would play in it.

  After replacing Anabelle’s sheet, which was half on the floor, I continued to my room after a lingering look down the corridor towards Jarrod’s empty bedroom. Despite my insistence that he was being silly, he’d been adamant about staying the night at a hotel downtown so he didn’t see the bride before the wedding ceremony.

  Inside my own bedroom, I wondered about our sleeping arrangement after the wedding. Would I be expected to share a bedroom with Jarrod? If we didn’t, wouldn’t everyone be confused? I realized we hadn’t spoken about it. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to lie beside him night after night for the next ten years and not touch him. I wanted him, which was pathetic.

  I hadn’t seen Pearl, but I heard him talking to her several times. He couldn’t be in love with Pearl. If he was, he would have married her. I stopped myself from wondering once more if they were sexually involved.

  I was just settling into bed when my cellphone rang. I was tempted to ignore it since I wasn’t expecting a call, but I smiled, seeing Jarrod’s name. I promptly scowled blackly, mentally scolding myself. This lightness and happiness that overcame me when Jarrod called or was around was not a part of our contract.

  “Hello, Jarrod. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I asked, answering the phone and settling back into the pillows.

  “I can say the same for you, Mrs. Simpson,” he teased.

  I chuckled, marveling at the change in him. When we’d first met, I’d never imagined him to crack a joke or a smile. But I hesitated to dwell on it too much, to think it meant something important.

  “Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here?” I asked him, looking at the clock on the bedside table. “We still have twelve hours before we get married.”

  “Don’t I know it? We spent so much time on the preparation.”

  “Well, you’re the one who wanted to make a big deal out of it even though we didn’t even invite more than twenty people.”

  “A woman should have the wedding of her dreams regardless of the circumstance behind it,” he explained. “Since I took away your dream of marrying the man you love…”

  I hoped he didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath. “You didn’t take it away. I made the decision, remember?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he inquired softly. “I know you signed the contract and we’ve planned everything, but if you want to change your mind, I understand. And that initial two-hundred grand is for you to keep, no matter what.”

  “Are you getting cold feet?” I asked him nervously. Our wedding wasn’t supposed to be an event that should cause anxiety. We knew what to expect of each other.

  “No, of course not,” he replied without missing a beat. “If anything, seeing you this past month with the girls has only solidified what I already knew. That you were perfect for this position as their mother.”


  “And I’m not going to back out either,” I assured him. “You’re all stuck with me.” Only after saying the words, the significance of what just left my mouth hit me and I grappled to do damage control. “I mean for ten years. Stuck with me for ten years.”

  Silence ensued between us, and I clamped my eyes shut and slammed my head back into the pillow several times. I shouldn’t be getting weird about our wedding. The only purpose this wedding served was to officially make me mother to the girls, which had nothing to do with me being Jarrod’s wife.

  “Jarrod,” I said, a bit hesitantly.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you tell me about your childhood?” I asked him.

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, you know. How’d you grow up? What made you so interested in entrepreneurship? What motivates you? Just to help me fall asleep.”

  He chuckled. “You’re right. My life is definitely going to put you to sleep.”

  I smiled, settling more comfortably as he started, awkwardly at first, talking about growing up as the second of two kids with his parents. I stayed awake long enough to find out his parents had been hardworking people and he had taken their legacy and made so much more of it. I learned his parents and his older brother had died in an armed robbery and that he had been spared because he’d been at college when it happened. I murmured sympathies but eventually fell asleep as he talked about expanding his family’s business.

  The next morning when I woke, my anxiety had waned. I went through the routine of getting ready for the wedding as if I’d done it before. I tried not to look outside at the preparation going on in the garden but sat still while the stylist worked on my hair and my mother helped me get the girls ready.

  Still, when it was almost two and Anabelle and Isabelle raced to the window and exclaimed that Jarrod was there, I couldn’t help skipping over to the window to observe him too. I watched him step from the stretched limo, his tux even smoother than usual. My breath caught and my heart raced as I watched him, and I knew I was doomed in this marriage. He was so handsome—hell, forget handsome. He was sexy, and I wasn’t sure if I would remain immune to him for the next ten years of our lives.

  “Laurel, you should come and get dressed,” Mom said, walking into the room. “I don’t care what they say about the bride being fashionably late. I don’t think it’s fun for the groom to wait.”

  I agreed and tried not to show my impatience as the long-sleeved, lace ivory dress was settled over my head and smoothed down my curves. I hadn’t wanted a fussy dress for the occasion, and the Vera Wang gown had a simple elegance about it. I liked the intricate appliquéd design of the chapel train and the sheerness of the material at the back and the sleeves. As I stood before the mirror, I acknowledged I’d never looked better in my whole life.

  “The dress is exquisite,” the stylist complimented me.

  “I helped to choose the dress,” Isabelle declared, and I smiled at her and gave her a high five. I was so proud of them for the way they were talking openly to other people now.

  “And you did a very good job,” I commented. “Didn’t they, Mom?” I turned and the happy smile diminished at my mother’s white face as she sank down into a chair. I rushed over to her in alarm. “Mom, are you okay?” Oh, God, the excitement was too much for her. Her surgery wasn’t for another two weeks.

  “I’ll be fine,” she responded. “I just need to catch my breath a little.”

  “Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” I asked fretfully.

  “No, no, I’m already feeling much better,” she said with a smile and stood. “What we need to do is get you down before they play that wedding march and the bride isn’t present.”

  “They could hardly play the wedding march if I’m not there,” I replied in a shaky voice. I was alarmed at the prospect of her having another heart attack, especially when she was so close to having her surgical procedure. “Are you sure you’re okay? All this isn’t too much for you?”

  “Seeing my daughter getting married? Of course it’s not too much.”

  “Mom,” I said warningly, frowning at her. She acted as though she didn’t know this marriage wasn’t binding. Ten years was a long time, but I would still be in my thirties when we went our separate ways.

  “Okay, I think we’re all ready,” I asserted and we left the bedroom.

  I couldn’t see Jarrod from my vantage point, but the girls took off down the aisle, taking their tasks very serious. The wedding march sounded and it was my time to walk down the aisle. My mother walked me, which was the way I had always envisioned it since my father passed away.

  Instead of looking at Jarrod, my eyes settled just over his shoulder. But the closer I got to him, the more I wanted to know what he was thinking. Could he possibly not feel the attraction between us? Pearl hadn’t been invited to the wedding. Why? Had the other woman decided she didn’t want to be here to witness the man she loved marrying someone else? Or had Jarrod forbidden her to come?

  At that thought, my gaze shifted to his face and I stumbled a bit, embarrassed, but the way he looked at me revealed nothing. He was pleased, but another emotion lurked in his blue eyes that I couldn’t fathom.

  If anybody believed the wedding to be a hoax, my mother’s behavior would have convinced them otherwise. She cried when she handed me over to Jarrod, and I heard sniffling throughout the entire ceremony. Standing by Jarrod, his hand in mine, was already difficult, and her getting all tearful was affecting me.

  The officiator’s words pierced my heart, and I thought how lightly we were treating this institution. When it was time to say our vows, we turned to each other. Jarrod repeated his with ease. A lump formed in my throat, and I missed the cue to repeat after the officiator.

  “Laurel?” he prompted.

  Jarrod squeezed my hand and his reassuring smile proved what I needed to say the vows. I almost choked on the words as the gravity of what we were doing hit home.

  “I, Laurel, take you, Jarrod, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.”

  Anabelle produced the rings, and we slipped them on. My hand was shaking so badly Jarrod whispered gently, “It’s okay” as he pushed the ring over my knuckle.

  But it wasn’t okay.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson. You may kiss the bride.”

  My hands weren’t the only thing shaking when those words were pronounced. My entire body trembled in anticipation and fear. Fear that it would be as good as I remembered the last time.

  Jarrod eased me gently into his arms and his head lowered. His breath hit my lips first, sending a shiver down my spine before his lips clung to mine. Fireworks erupted behind my closed lids as his kiss drugged me. Just as before, I clutched his shoulders and offered, and he took.

  “That’s so gross.”

  The twins’ comment pulled us apart and I stared at him in surprise. When his mouth had been on mine, I’d forgotten we weren’t alone. How would I survive our honeymoon? Thank God we were taking the twins with us.

  Chapter 18

  Jarrod

  “Hey, girls!”

  “Shhh!” Laurel shushed me as she walked from the bedroom the twins were sharing at the private villa we had rented for our honeymoon. “They’re sleeping,” she explained, closing the door behind her.

  My face fell. I had set up a nice little spot on the private beach for us to sit and enjoy the last night on the island outdoors. I’d tipped one of the locals who took care of the grounds to set up a fire for us on the beach where we would eat s’mores. I’d only returned to collect them and some blankets so we could spread them out on the sand.

  “I can’t believe they’re sleeping,” I remarked. “I went through all this trouble and they didn’t even stay up to realize it.”

  Laurel’s laugh increased my sulking. “They’re all tuckered out, Jarrod. They had a full day. They
wanted to do everything today they hadn’t done before we left.”

  “Are you sure we can’t wake them?” I half-joked. This week had been amazing, and if I didn’t have crucial meetings waiting for me to return to Dallas, I would have extended our stay by another week. Everything was falling into place, and the girls had simply blossomed on the island. They had fallen in love with nature and loved the beach. We had taken them on so many tours: Dolphin’s Cove, Waterland, Black River Safari, Dunn’s River Fall. They had enjoyed everything and I had too. We all had. I hadn’t even minded sleeping on the pullout bed in our bedroom and folding it away before the girls woke up in the morning.

  “You know we leave early tomorrow,” she reminded me, “so they’d better rest up. What are you so excited for?”

  “I set up a spot for us on the beach,” I explained. “No big deal.”

  “You did?” she asked in surprise. “Well, it doesn’t have to go to waste. I love it here. We can sit out there for a while. I’d like to feel the sand between my toes one last time.”

  “We can come back when I take time off from work again,” I told her. “Better yet, we can visit another Caribbean island. Bahamas is beautiful too, or Cayman Islands.”

  “Sounds lovely,” she remarked. “Now, how about we go and check out your spot on the beach?”

  “I’ll get some food from the kitchen,” I told her. “It’s breezy out tonight. Can you get us a couple blankets?”

  “All right.”

  In the kitchen, I puttered about, locating a bottle of wine, two plastic cups, a small container of fruit cocktail, and the last piece of wedding cake we had taken with us. She was waiting for me, standing on the porch, her arms wrapped around the blankets. The sea breeze blew at the hem of her dress, and she absentmindedly batted at it to keep it down. I saw firm, toned thighs bronzed by the sun before she succeeded. She had worn a lot of shorts and dresses on the island and was tanned all over.