I Do--Or Do I?

by Karen King

  His face broke into a wide grin. Actually, it was more of a smirk. ‘I did. What’s more, I wiped the floor with Denver. If I say it myself, it was the best closing speech I’ve ever given.’ The danger had passed as he spent the rest of the evening telling her about his part in the court case, how the judge had praised him, how annoyed Denver had been, and how delighted Felicity had been that he’d won such a high-profile case that was bound to bring them in more important clients. ‘We may have to take on another partner if we keep expanding as we’re doing,’ he said proudly.

  ‘That’s excellent.’ She nodded approvingly. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘If we do expand it will mean you won’t have to go out to work, sweetheart. You could freelance from home. Just think, no more going out on cold winter mornings, no more long days in the office. We can move to a bigger house and you can have your own office there.’

  She stared at him in dismay, not knowing what to say. She loved the hustle and bustle of working in the newspaper office, the company of the other journalists, working to tight deadlines, everything. She wasn’t sure she wanted to swap all that to work at home.

  He’s just trying to make your life easier. Don’t get worked up about it tonight. You can argue your corner when the time comes.

  His next words completely floored her. ‘That will give you more free time to look after the house and organise our dinner parties.’

  What? They’d never discussed this. Whenever Sylvia suggested that she give up work to be Timothy’s full-time wife after they got married, Timothy had given her the impression that he didn’t think the same. Now he was landing this on her.

  She swallowed. She wasn’t arguing about it now. Not the night before she went away. She’d discuss it with him later. After all, it might never happen. Timothy was talking about if the firm expanded.

  She took a gulp of her wine. ‘It’s good to hear that your business is doing so well,’ she said diplomatically. ‘At least I know you won’t be lonely while I’m away.’

  ‘No time for that, I’ve a big case to get ready for.’ He reached out for her hand, picked it up, and kissed the back of it. ‘I’ll miss you terribly, though.’

  She flashed him a big smile. ‘And I’ll miss you too.’

  She put the conversation of her giving up work out of her mind and they spent the rest of the evening chatting pleasantly.

  Later though, after they’d made love and Timothy lay snoring by her side, she thought back to the conversation and felt a wave of panic. What was she getting into? She would soon be Timothy’s wife and it was clear that his expectations of her future life weren’t quite what she expected.

  I’ll talk to him when I come back from France, she resolved. Make him understand how important my job is to me. It’ll all be fine.

  But it was a long time before she got to sleep that night.

  Twenty-four

  The wedding company had booked Cassie’s seat on the plane, economy class of course, but that was fine by her. She sat by a man who introduced himself as Steve, a journalist on a travel magazine. They spent the hour and half flight to Bergerac Airport exchanging anecdotes about the various articles they’d written and people they’d met. Steve’s anecdotes were far more exciting than Cassie’s.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to travel the world and write articles about the places I go to,’ Cassie told him. ‘Nowhere too exotic though, I don’t like to take risks. Europe and the neighbouring countries are about as far as I’d like to go.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you?’ Steve asked her. ‘There’s plenty of magazines looking for a constant supply of travel articles. You’ll have to take the plunge and freelance though, I shouldn’t think there’s a lot of scope for them in your local newspaper and your boss probably won’t be happy at you freelancing for other mags.’

  ‘He’d be cool about the odd one, but not on a regular basis,’ Cassie replied. ‘I like working on the paper. There’s a lot of variety, and it’s a regular wage, but I’ll definitely think about freelancing.’ Maybe Timothy’s idea of her freelancing from home once they got married wasn’t such a bad one after all. It would give her the opportunity to spread her writing wings a bit and aim for some of the commercial magazines. Of course, it would mean she’d be away from home more often but she doubted Timothy would mind. He was always so busy, she was sure he’d appreciate having the house to himself for a few days. Then she remembered Timothy’s worrying remarks last night. He was obviously expecting her to be some sort of trophy wife when they got married. Well, I’m not going to, she decided. Sylvia can do the entertaining for him, she enjoys that kind of thing. In fact, the more she thought about it the more she thought that would be the perfect solution. Then Sylvia would feel useful and might stop interfering in Timothy and Cassie’s life. Result all around.

  Gwen, the manager of Dream Weddings, was waiting to greet them as soon as they came through customs.

  ‘Welcome, everyone. I hope you’ve all had a good journey.’ She smiled at the chorus of ‘yes’. ‘There’s a minibus waiting for us outside to take us to our first venue, Le Château Tranquil. It’s a beautiful château set in the countryside and you’ll be staying the night there.’

  Once on board, Gwen explained that she would be with them for the four days they were in France, as would the bus driver, Jean, and they were to ask as many questions as they wanted. The other journalists were a friendly crowd and Cassie found herself seated next to Leah, a features writer from Beautiful Brides who was planning on doing a four-page spread on wedding venues in the Dordogne area. Leah, a tall, dark-haired woman with a guffawing laugh, was hilariously funny, telling Cassie some of the horror stories would-be brides sent in to them. ‘If there’s one thing writing for this mag shows you, it’s that people get really worked up over weddings,’ she said with a grin. ‘It’s as if the day takes over everything. The brides get so blinkered they can’t see anything beyond having the perfect day where they get to be princess, and they don’t care how much it costs. When I get married I’m not going to get obsessive. I’m going to keep it relaxed and low-key.’

  ‘That’s what I intended to do but I got ambushed.’ The reply was out of Cassie’s mouth before she realised.

  Leah jumped on it. ‘Intended? Are you married then? Or going to be?’

  Cassie hesitated, not wanting Leah to link her to the ‘Almost a Bride’ column. ‘Not married yet,’ she smiled, ‘But we are planning to, and I can’t believe how carried away everyone gets with the preparations. Personally, I don’t care where we get married or how much my dress costs as long as I’m marrying the man I love.’

  Was she marrying the man she loved, though? Thankfully, before she had time to explore the thought, Leah started telling her an amusing story about one bride-to-be’s effort to find the perfect dress, finally deciding on a huge white meringue she could barely walk in. ‘Honestly, the hoops under the dress were so wide she got stuck in the doorway when she went to the loo. Everyone pushed and pulled but they couldn’t budge her. They had to call the fire brigade in the end and the dress had to be cut so they could free her. She was really upset. It’s a good job they’d already had the wedding ceremony, otherwise I’m sure she would have called it off.’

  ‘How embarrassing!’ Cassie said sympathetically, although she couldn’t help giggling at the image of everyone trying to free the poor bride. Fancy having a dress so wide she couldn’t get through the doorway, and to be stuck in the toilet of all places? She bet the bride was mortified.

  ‘Then there was the bride who wanted a red wedding: everything had to be red, including her hair.’ Leah’s wedding anecdotes kept Cassie chuckling for the rest of the journey.

  It was just over an hour’s drive to the château, which nestled in a pretty valley surrounded by quaint villages. As they all stepped out of the coach, they were greeted by Chloé, the manager, who had arranged for coffee and pâtisseries to be laid out in the reception area, a welcome treat after the long trip.r />
  ‘Mesdames et messieurs, bienvenue à Château Tranquil. I am Chloé Martineau, the manager. Please do be seated and avail yourself of the refreshments. The porters will take your luggage to your rooms while I tell you a little about the château.’

  ‘If all the châteaux are like this I’m going to enjoy this trip,’ Leah whispered.

  Cassie smiled, she’d been right to get away. This was just what she needed. A break from Sylvia and the wedding plans, time to be herself, to get things into perspective. And, best of all, a break from Jared.

  Jared zipped up his case and glanced at his watch. He had half an hour to get to the airport. Part of him wished he wasn’t going now. Most men would probably think he was mad, but spending the next three days filming Savannah and the other models in their beachwear didn’t appeal to him at all. Neither did going to the South of France. The only reason he’d accepted the job was the very generous fee. He knew that some photographers wouldn’t sacrifice their art for money but he looked on jobs like this as a means to an end. If taking photos of celebrity weddings and models frolicking on the beach paid for a few weeks filming wildlife then it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

  And it would do him good to get away and get Cassie out of his head.

  As the wedding approached, he found himself thinking about her more often. He told himself that he could be professional on the wedding day and the honeymoon, that she meant nothing to him, but she was constantly on his mind. Everyone said that your first love was the one you never forgot, what chance did he have of forgetting Cassie when he was constantly in such close contact with her?

  At least now he wouldn’t have to see her until her wedding day, when Cassie would be Mrs Campbell and it would all be over. Yes, there were still the few days he had to join them on honeymoon but then he’d be off the Arctic and would never see Cassie again. As far as he was concerned it couldn’t come soon enough.

  A beep outside announced the arrival of his taxi. He was meeting Savannah and the rest of the modelling team at the airport. He grabbed his bag and set off.

  Twenty-five

  The château was wonderful, Cassie thought, as she turned back the covers of her bed that evening and climbed in. Climbed being the right word, the bed was so high she had to stand on tiptoe and almost haul herself onto it. Once there, she wriggled into the middle of the thick, marshmallow soft mattress and leant back against the plumped-up feather pillows. Chloé had told them they were all staying in the guest bedrooms, so they could see for themselves the quality of the rooms. Cassie’s room was decorated in a cream and violet tiny floral pattern with rustic wooden furniture, so pretty and quaint that she’d immediately taken several pictures of it.

  Chloé had given them a detailed tour of the château that afternoon, pointing out things they might want to photograph or mention in their articles. The two honeymoon suites – the château could accommodate two weddings at the same time – were spectacular with gorgeous four poster beds, Jacuzzis, mini bars, and patio windows leading on to a private balcony overlooking the lake.

  The immaculate gardens were exquisite, with a small chapel beside the lake where the ceremony took place. The reception was either held outside in a private lawn area laid with white round tables and chairs, decorated with white covers and coloured bows, or, if preferred, in the luxurious reception hall with seating for two hundred guests and a large dance floor.

  There were a couple of little gîtes in the grounds if the newly married couple wanted seclusion from their guests, and enough rooms to cater for fifty guests. Cassie took lots of photos and made numerous notes, wanting to have plenty of material for articles.

  She flicked open her phone and Skyped Timothy, but he was busy so they only talked for a few minutes, then she Skyped Sam, who begged her to show her the room and almost squealed in delight when Cassie told her all about the reasonably-priced wedding packages.

  ‘That’s what I want when Paul and I get married,’ she said. ‘A wedding in a French château sounds so romantic.’

  ‘I’ve another three venues to see yet,’ Cassie told her.

  ‘You’re so lucky, why didn’t I become a features writer? Then I’d be able to have all freebie holidays abroad, too.’

  ‘Hmm, well it’s not always so exciting, most of the time I’m covering court cases and dog shows,’ Cassie reminded her. She did love the variety of her job, and the fact that every day was never the same, but the idea of working for a travel magazine was still niggling in the back of her mind. Perhaps she should seize her dream, like Jared had done.

  For the first time she realised that Jared might have done the right thing by finishing with her. Their relationship would never have worked if he was hankering after something else. In time he would have resented Cassie for stopping him doing what he wanted to do with his life, for clipping his wings.

  It was a sobering thought. She’d been so wrapped up in her own hurt and distress that she had never stepped back to ask herself if it had been a difficult decision for Jared. Now she remembered the pain on his face when he’d told her he thought they should finish, set each other free.

  ‘We’re too young. I’m too young. There are things I want to do.’ He’d pleaded with her, begged her to understand, for them to remain friends, but all she’d understood was that she loved him and her heart was breaking.

  For a long time she’d been too hurt, too numb, too busy coping with the pain of getting through each day without Jared to think about what she wanted from life.

  She could see now that he was right, they had been too young. As she snuggled down onto the soft mattress and wrapped the cool, cotton duvet around her she realised that Jared had done a very brave thing. He’d walked away from their relationship because he knew that he wasn’t ready to settle down, that it wasn’t right for him. He’d probably saved them both from a lot of future heartache.

  Was she heading for more heartache? Was she doing the right thing now by marrying Timothy? Did she really want to spend the rest of her life with him? And if she didn’t, could she be brave enough to call it off?

  Twenty-six

  The next day they all climbed into the minibus again to visit a stunning château on top of a hill, overlooking a medieval village. The facilities were amazing. ‘It’s almost like a fairy-tale castle,’ Leah said as they took some shots of the round tower in the centre of the château. Cassie knew Sam would adore this. She was such a romantic. She wouldn’t mind betting that once Sam saw these pictures she’d be working on Paul to get him to propose!

  They drove on to visit a 14th century château later that afternoon, with its own chapel in the grounds. Gwen told them the history of the places they visited, handed out promotional materials, and happily answered any questions they had.

  They all gathered in the dining room of the hotel for dinner and spent a lovely evening chatting. Cassie sat next to Leah and asked her more about her travel writing. As Leah related the countries she’d been to, Cassie realised more and more that it was what she wanted to do.

  What about Timothy? The question niggled at her mind.

  Getting married shouldn’t stop you having a career. Timothy will still carrying on working as usual, she reminded herself. He’s never complained if you’ve been away from home before.

  She’d only been away a couple of times, though, and she wasn’t his wife now. She couldn’t get Timothy’s conversation during their last meal together out of her head. Even if he went along with her idea that Sylvia should take over the entertaining, would he still expect Cassie to be more of a ‘corporate wife’?

  Well, if he did, tough. She still had her own life. This was the 21st century, for goodness’ sake!

  ‘Look, if you’d really like to do more travel writing we could swap emails and I’ll let you know when another trip comes up,’ Leah told her. ‘You might be able to clear it with your boss and come along.’

  ‘That would be fantastic. Thank you.’ Cassie opened her purse and took
out a business card.

  ‘It’d be good to go on another trip together,’ Leah said with a grin.

  It certainly would, Cassie thought. Leah was great company.

  The next day they travelled on to the last two châteaux, down in the Champagne region of the Dordogne. The first looked over the Dordogne River and had been restored beautifully, while still keeping some of its traditional features. The final château, where they would be spending the rest of the day and the night, was a medieval château in the heart of the Champagne region.

  ‘It’s breath-taking,’ Leah gasped, taking shots of everything in sight.

  Cassie agreed, it really was wonderful. There was certainly enough material for a few features. She’d take some notes about champagne making, and Owen might even let her write a feature about that. Or maybe she could sell a feature to a magazine. This trip had certainly been worthwhile.

  As she snapped some shots of the château she couldn’t help comparing it with Hollington Castle where she and Timothy were holding their wedding. The castle was beautiful, but part of her wished they were coming here instead, getting married in the picturesque little chapel overlooking the river, then after the wedding they could retreat to their own private accommodation in the converted barn. She imagined spending a week exploring the French countryside. It would be so relaxing and intimate. She and Timothy rarely managed to spend more than a couple of hours in each other’s company. She sometimes felt that she didn’t really know him. She was looking forward to spending some time together on their honeymoon. Timothy would no doubt have booked somewhere exotic, far more exclusive than this little French town. It would be lovely, she was sure of that. She sighed. If only Jared wasn’t coming along for a few days. How was she supposed to deal with that?