I Do--Or Do I?

by Karen King

  An image of Jared with his deep chocolate eyes, thick dark hair that made you want to run your fingers through it, cute goatee beard (that was new, and she had to admit it suited him), smooth olive skin, and lithe body flashed across her mind. Yes, he was still a hunk. In fact, he was even hotter than she remembered. ‘It was a bit … weird,’ she admitted slowly.

  ‘What did you say to each other? How did monster-in-law take it, knowing your ex is the great Jared Macey?’ Sam leant forward, her eyes shining, eager to know all the details.

  Cassie took a long slurp before replying. ‘Sylvia doesn’t know. We didn’t say that we knew each other.’

  ‘What?’

  She couldn’t meet Sam’s gaze, didn’t want to see the incredulous look on her face. She knew how stupid it sounded.

  ‘You mean you didn’t say hi, ask each other how you were, that sort of thing? You both pretended you didn’t know each other?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that. I was stunned when I saw him, and I think he was too. Then Sylvia started talking and the chance had gone.’

  There was a bit of a silence while Sam digested this. A silence in which Cassie wished she could rewind the clock, walk into the office of I.D. Images, and say breezily. ‘Jared! Fancy seeing you again.’ It’s what she should have done. What anyone else would have done. Why hadn’t she?

  ‘Isn’t it going to be a bit freaky having your ex, the one who broke your heart, as your wedding photographer? Surely when Timothy knows he’ll want to get someone else.’

  Cassie sighed and put the half-empty mug down on the table. ‘The thing is, I never actually got around to telling Timothy about Jared,’ she admitted.

  ‘What?! Really?’ There was a further silence as Sam digested this additional information. ‘Awkward,’ she finally said. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘What can I do? Sylvia’s booked him; it’s too short notice to arrange another photographer – at least a good one. Besides, if I cancel what excuse can I give? ‘Oh, by the way, Timothy, I forgot to mention that I went out with a guy called Jared for years, and your mother’s booked him to take our wedding photos?’ She shrugged, trying to sound more casual than she felt, because to be honest the thought of Jared taking shots of their wedding was seriously freaking her out. ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘It was a long time ago and we’ve both moved on. Jared is just the photographer as far as I’m concerned. It’s not a problem.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should come clean, though? Timothy might wonder why you didn’t tell him if he finds out later.’

  Cassie thought about it. She and Timothy had never actually discussed ex-lovers. When she’d tried to broach the subject he’d said, ‘Look, we’re both adults with history, let’s leave it there. The past is the past.’ Which had seemed very adult at the time. Sam was right, though, she should tell him their wedding photographer was her ex-boyfriend. No need to go into too much detail, of course.

  ‘Sure, I’ll mention it to him later. It’s no big deal.’

  Sam shot her a look that said she didn’t believe her for a nanosecond but thankfully changed the subject. ‘Well, you have had a busy weekend! I only saw you last Wednesday, and now you’ve arranged the wedding date, booked the venue, and the photographer. Talk about quick work!’

  ‘I know, I’m a bit nervous, actually,’ Cassie confessed. ‘Sylvia and Timothy are planning a big, posh do. And you know me, Sam; I’d prefer a quiet affair. Just friends and family.’

  ‘Well, that’s what you get for marrying a hot-shot lawyer,’ Sam told her. ‘Can I help you with anything?’

  ‘With everything!’ Cassie pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag. ‘I don’t even know where to start. Could you help me write a list of the things I need to do? And maybe help me sort them out, too?’

  Sam chuckled. ‘So that’s why you want me to be your maid of honour. OK, I’ll rescue you. Now, let’s see …’ She held up her hand and ticked the items off on her fingers as she listed them one by one. ‘There’s the invitations, the dress, the bridesmaids’ dresses, flowers, wedding cake, reception – I guess you’re having it at the castle?’

  Cassie was busy scribbling it all down. She looked up and nodded. ‘It’s all part of the package.’

  ‘OK, but there’s still food, drinks, entertainment.’

  Cassie groaned and sunk her head into her hands. ‘It’s too much. How can I do this all in time?’

  ‘You can always get a wedding planner. I’m sure Timothy will cough up the funds.’

  For a moment Cassie was tempted, then she shook her head. ‘No, Sylvia is taking over enough, I’m not handing the rest to someone else to organise. I want some input in my own wedding.’

  ‘Good for you. Well, don’t panic, we’ll sort it out together,’ Sam reassured her. ‘The first thing you need to do is buy some invites, and get them sent out so you know how many guests are coming. Next on the list is your dress. That’s a priority. It sets the whole atmosphere and theme for the wedding. You can’t plan anything else until you’ve got the dress. How about we go shopping for it on Saturday? I doubt there’s time to have one specially made now, but there’s some fantastic boutiques in town, you’re bound to find something you like.’

  ‘Oh, would you, Sam? That’ll be great. I don’t fancy wedding shopping alone.’

  ‘Of course. That’s what maids of honour are for,’ Sam told her.

  Cassie drained her coffee, just about resisting the urge to put her finger in the glass to scoop out and lick the milky liquid on the sides.

  ‘It’s been lovely to chat, Cas, but I’ve got to get back to work now. We haven’t all got the day off.’ Sam was the personal shopper of a large department store.

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a day off. I’ve got to find some classy wedding invitations, then I’ve probably got a ton of emails to answer, and Owen’s asked me to write a “wedding diary” every Saturday so I need to make a start on that.’

  ‘What sort of wedding diary?’

  ‘You know, relating my experiences of planning a wedding in two months. Trips to the photographer, sorting the flowers, etc. It’s for the glossy weekend supplement. Owen’s actually upgrading me.’

  ‘That’s fantastic.’ Sam frowned. ‘I’m surprised though, I didn’t think Timothy would be up for it. Or you, to be honest, writing about weddings doesn’t strike me as your kind of thing.’

  ‘It isn’t really but I can’t turn it down, can I? It’s my job. Timothy probably wouldn’t approve but he doesn’t know, and he won’t find out as I’m using a pseudonym. It won’t be too personal, of course. No names mentioned. Just a light-hearted humorous account with a bit of info and advice for other brides-to-be flung in.’

  ‘Like not booking their ex as the wedding photographer?’ Sam quipped. ‘Honestly, Cassie, if you told the truth in this diary it would be hilarious. The paper would be a sell-out.’

  ‘Tell me about it!’ Cassie said with a grin.

  Sam stood up. ‘I’ve really got to go. Phone me tomorrow and let me know what Timothy says when you tell him about Jared.’ She unhooked her bag from the back of the seat. ‘Once he’s got over the shock he’s bound to be impressed that you two used to be an item. Not that Jared was famous then, but even so.’

  By the time Cassie returned home, with a pack of classy invites, she’d decided that having Jared as their wedding photographer was no big deal, what happened between them was history. Actually the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Let Jared see what a splendid wedding she was going to have, how a prominent, successful lawyer like Timothy wanted to marry her. How completely she’d fixed her smashed heart, and was now totally over him.

  She ticked invitations off her wedding list and put a star by wedding dress – she’d hopefully get that on Saturday. Now she should start making notes for her wedding diary while today was still fresh in her mind. She’d be at the Discover France show for most of tomorrow and Owen wanted the column by Wednesda
y. That didn’t give her much time. She chewed her pen, trying to recall the wedding preparations she’d made to date. As this was the first column, she needed to really hook the reader. Maybe she should start with the title.

  She scribbled down a few titles – My Wedding Diary, Two months to plan a Wedding, Diary of a Bride-to-Be. They all seemed so boring. This wasn’t going to be an easy task. She tried to think of some key words that might attract the reader’s attention. Secret, perhaps. My Secret Diary. The Secret Diary of a Bride-to-Be. No. She scribbled them out furiously. Perhaps she’d leave the title for now and get on with the content.

  She’d only been writing a few minutes when her mobile rang. It was Craig, a photographer from the newspaper. They often worked together and he was accompanying her to interview a local-author-made-good tomorrow, after the Discover France show.

  ‘Just checking that you’re still on for tomorrow,’ he jested. ‘Owen told me you’d swapped your day off. What was the emergency?’

  ‘No emergency. I had an appointment with the wedding photographer.’

  ‘Now that is really important. No wonder you changed your shift,’ he teased. ‘I guess we’ll have to expect this now you’re almost a bride.’

  Almost a bride! That was it. That’s what she’d call her column. ‘Craig, you’re a star!’ she said as she jotted it down on her pad.

  ‘Oh, I know, but what have I done to make you realise it?’ he quipped.

  ‘Only given me a brilliant title for my new column on weddings,’ she told him.

  ‘You? Writing about weddings?’ Craig laughed. ‘Now that’s going to be worth reading.’

  ‘I know, but the boss has spoken. I’ll try to be at the show as soon as it opens tomorrow. Owen said he wants lots of info, he’s going to run some sort of holiday special next month.’

  ‘See you there then, about 9.30a.m.,’ Craig replied.

  ‘Great.’

  She was looking forward to the show. It was being held at a large hotel on the outskirts of London, and she knew from experience that there would be about a dozen exhibitors, and many of them would be offering food and drink samples. It should be an interesting morning, which meant she should type up her column now. She fetched her laptop and settled down to work.

  She’d almost finished the first draft when she heard the front door open. Timothy was home early.

  ‘Hi, I’m in the lounge,’ she shouted.

  He strode in and made his way straight over to the drink cabinet. He looked exhausted.

  ‘Tough case?’ she asked, saving her work on to a memory stick.

  ‘Very.’ He picked up a bottle of red wine and two glasses. ‘Do you want one?’

  ‘Not for me, thanks.’ She shut down the laptop and slipped the memory stick into her handbag. She’d finish it on the computer at work tomorrow. ‘Is the case almost finished?’

  ‘We’ll be summing up tomorrow so I need to work on my notes tonight.’ He leant back against the cabinet and took a large sip of wine.

  ‘How’s it looking? Do you think you’ll win?’ she asked, quickly clearing her papers and laptop off the coffee table. Timothy never discussed the details of his cases with her because of professional protocol, but would remark if it was a tough case and how he felt it was going.

  ‘I hope so, but it’s touch and go. Have you started dinner yet?’

  ‘No I wasn’t expecting you home yet. I’ll go and put the oven on now.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I had a large lunch. A sandwich will do, I’ll take it in the study with me.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘Mother phoned and said it all went well at the photographer’s, and you’ve brought some material home for me to look at?’

  Trust Sylvia to get in with the news first. ‘Yes, I have. I’ve bought some wedding invites too. We need to get them written and posted ASAP so we know who’s coming, but I don’t expect you have time to look at anything tonight?’

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I must go through my notes. Denver’s on the prosecution and he’s like a dog with a bone. I need my summation to be water-tight.’

  ‘That’s fine, we can talk about it tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘I’ll go and do that sandwich. Ham and cheese on granary?’

  ‘Perfect. Thank you. Would you mind bringing it into my study?’

  He disappeared with his glass of wine and briefcase and was engrossed in his notes when Cassie took his sandwich in, mumbling his thanks without looking up. He remained there for the rest of the evening.

  It was almost midnight when Cassie knocked the door before cautiously opening it. Timothy hated to be disturbed when he was working but she didn’t like to go to bed without saying goodnight.

  ‘I’m off to bed now, it’s almost twelve and I’ve an early start tomorrow. Can I get you anything before I go?’

  Timothy glanced up from the pile of paperwork he was reading and smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, darling, but I need to get this finished. Don’t wait up for me.’

  She knew that there was no point trying to persuade him to come to bed. He was always like this when he was working on a case, determined to do whatever was needed to win. He was so dedicated to his work.

  I’ll tell him about Jared tomorrow, she thought, as she pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed. She’d been thinking about it that evening and had decided that the best way to broach the subject was to play it down. She’d smile and say ‘You’ll never guess what? Our wedding photographer is only someone I went out with years ago. Isn’t that amazing? I had no idea he’d done so well for himself.’

  There was no need to tell Timothy that they’d been inseparable for years, that she thought they were going to get married, have kids, the whole caboodle. And there was certainly no need to tell him how devastated she’d been when Jared had dumped her. So devastated that she hadn’t been able to eat properly for weeks and it was a whole three years before she dated again. She was over Jared now, though. It was all in the past.

  So why did she spend most of the night dreaming about him?

  Jared tossed and turned, sleep eluding him. Ever since Cassie had breezed into his office that morning he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. The way his body had reacted was like the last seven years had never happened. Her smile had the almost forgotten effect on his heart, the light touch of her fingers on his when she’d taken the brochures from him had sent familiar tingles up his arm.

  Forget her. You walked out on her and she’s marrying someone else.

  He sat up, reached out for the switch on the stem of the table lamp, and with a quick flick, illuminated the room. There was no point lying in bed fretting all night, there was plenty of work that needed doing. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbed his robe off the chair and tied it around his naked body, then padded barefoot across the floor to the spare bedroom he used as an office. A few minutes later, he was sitting at the computer editing some photographs he’d taken in the rainforest. He’d been asked to supply them for a commercial publisher and wanted to make sure he sent an impressive selection. The publisher had promised to credit him and publish a short biography if Jared supplied it. Not something he really liked doing – he found it much easier to write about the wildlife he studied than about his own achievements, but it was all publicity. And hell, he needed that if he wanted to get some funding towards this Arctic trip.

  The next time he checked the time it was 2.30 a.m. Damn, he had to be up at 6.30 for work. He thought he’d better hit the sack. Leaving the computer on, he went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk and headed for the bedroom. As he climbed into bed he absent-mindedly glanced at his phone and saw he’d received a message. He slid his finger across the screen to read it. It was from Savannah, his sort-of girlfriend of the past couple of years, and she’d sent it hours ago. He opened the message, and it was typical Savannah; brief and to the point. ‘I’m back in London for a while. Fancy meeting up?’

  They had a light, easy ‘friends with benefits�
�� relationship, picking up where they left off whenever they were in the same location. A sought-after model, Savannah often jetted off to exotic places. She was flirty and fun – most of the time. Like most models, she could be neurotic and self-obsessed. He smiled. Just what he needed to take his mind off Cassie.

  Four

  Cassie reached out for Timothy when she woke the next morning, but the other side of the bed was empty. He must have decided to sleep on the sofa bed in the study, as he often did if he was working late on a case. She was about to get out of bed and go down to him, when the bedroom door opened and Timothy came in carrying a tray complete with two bowls of cereal, a fragrant red rose in an exquisite crystal bud vase, and two glasses of orange juice. Her heart melted when she saw the rose. Timothy could be so thoughtful.

  ‘Morning,’ he said cheerfully, placing the tray down on the dressing table. He was already dressed for work in a smart pinstriped shirt, navy tie, and black trousers. He looked tired, and she wondered if he had slept at all. He sat down on the bed, leant over, and gave her a kiss on the lips. She entwined her arms around his neck and kissed him back. ‘Sorry I didn’t come to bed last night. It was really late by the time I finished and I didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ She smiled at him. ‘I hope it goes well today.’ She’d be glad when the case was over and Timothy could rest a bit. He worked too hard.

  ‘It’s a tough one. I’m convinced my client is innocent, but to be honest I’m not sure which way the jury will go.’

  A troubled frown creased his forehead and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Timothy hated to lose a case. It was a matter of pride to him – but even Timothy with his encyclopaedic knowledge of the law and eloquent rhetoric skills couldn’t win them all. She hoped he won this one. He was always very quiet and withdrawn when he lost a case and she had to spend a lot of time and energy trying to jolly him up again. That’s what you get when you’re engaged to a successful, driven lawyer, she reminded herself. Timothy hadn’t become a partner of Campbell and Mason without years of hard work and dedication.