by Anne Oliver
‘My thoughts exactly.’ She was nodding hard, her eyes lit up with hope.
He knew he had to be with her, even if it meant giving up his tight control on life. In fact, he wanted to let go for her. To experience new things that both scared and excited him—as long as she was along for the ride. He wanted to do it all with her.
He’d never been able to picture himself with Marcy long-term, but he realised he couldn’t imagine himself without Lula now. Just the thought of it made his chest contract painfully.
‘To answer your question, I’m not in love with Marcy. But I am in love with you.’
Her gaze slid away from his and he could feel her trembling under his touch.
He balked as he realised she wasn’t giving him the joyful response he was hoping for.
‘Lula? What’s wrong?’
Her eyes were full of fear when she looked back at him. ‘I’m sacred that you don’t really know me, Tristan. You only know the Tallulah I’ve been showing you and when you get to know the real me you’ll be disappointed.’
He frowned hard and moved closer to her, to reassure her that wasn’t the case. Couldn’t be. ‘What you’ve shown me is you, Lula. I know you think you’ve been pretending to be something you think everyone wants, but you couldn’t have been that person if it wasn’t in you to begin with—the sparky, funny, quirky you that you keep hidden until you trust someone.’
He put a hand on her cheek and tipped her face so she had to keep looking him in the eye. ‘That’s one of the things I love about you—that you have a secret side that you only let certain people see. I think, without you realising, you’ve already let me be one of those people. When we first met, Louise was the mask that let you be yourself. You showed me the truth when you were pretending to be her because you could blame any shortcoming on her. You could hide behind her faults, rather than your own. It’s a classic deflection technique. I’ve seen every side of you, Lula, and I love them all. I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Really?’ she said, clearly trying not to cry.
‘Yes, really.’ He smiled and brushed a rogue tear away from under her eye. ‘You know, I think I’m finally beginning to understand my father’s addiction to falling in love. The first flush is like the most intense happiness drug. But, unlike my father it’s not the be-all and end-all for me. I want to grow to love you in all the ways possible, even when we’re angry with each other. I can’t imagine ever wanting to be without you.’
She took a deep shaky breath. ‘Me neither because I love you too.’ She was telling the truth, he could see the certainty in her eyes.
The great weight of fear lifted as he heard her say those words.
‘Then don’t go to Australia. Stay here and marry me. Flash will be our station. I’ll make you a shareholder. We’ll hire the candidate you liked to manage it day to day but we’ll both have an equal say in how it’s run.’
She stared at him in shock. ‘You’re asking me to marry you?’
‘Yes.’
She frowned. ‘But we’ve only known each other for a month.’
‘Doesn’t matter. It’s what I want. You’re what I want.’
‘I can’t believe you’d do that for me.’ Her voice wobbled with emotion.
‘For us.’
She shook her head and moved away from where his hand rested on her cheek, drawing herself up straight. ‘We don’t have to get married. Just the fact you’ve asked me to, because you think it would make me happy is enough. I know being married doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll be together for ever, but I needed to know you were prepared to make a promise that cost you something to say. I believe that you love me. And I love you. That’s enough for me.’
‘Well, let’s keep it as an open discussion. We don’t have to decide anything right now. I just want to be with you, Lula. And I want you to always feel that you can talk to me, even when we’re angry with each other.’
He cupped her face again and stroked his thumb across her soft, full lips. ‘Please don’t think you have to withdraw into your own head again, it would kill me to think I’d made you do that.’
This time she gave him a genuine smile and he knew it was going to be okay. They’d make it work, because it was what they both wanted.
‘Okay. I promise,’ she said, leaning forward to kiss him gently. ‘No more silence.’
EPILOGUE
One year later
Lula had just wrapped up her breakfast show and handed over the reins to the next presenter when her Broadcast Assistant buzzed through to let her know that Tristan was on the phone for her.
She picked up the line in the studio, already smiling at the thought of hearing his voice. He’d nearly made her late again that morning by dragging her back into bed after her shower and she was still buzzing, and a little sore—in the best way possible—from his intensive attention.
‘Hello, beautiful, great show,’ he said, the sound of his voice sending waves of lustful need straight to those still aching parts of her.
‘Thank you. How come you were listening? I thought you had a meeting with your new programmer this morning?’
Tristan’s new educational open source software enterprise had gone from strength to strength since he’d set it up a year ago and it was unusual for him to take a working morning off.
‘Grab your stuff and come and meet me outside. Don’t worry, I’ve cleared it with Caitlin, she knows I’ve got plans for you today.’
A zing of excitement travelled up her spine. ‘What plans?’
‘You’ll see. Just get your sexy arse out here asap.’
When she emerged into the cool spring air she found him leaning against their car with his arms folded across his broad chest and a wide smile on his handsome face.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, desperate to know what he had in store for her. She loved the surprises he cooked up—he had a real knack for knowing exactly what she’d enjoy.
That was one of the things she loved most about him, that he got her.
‘We’re celebrating your Best New Breakfast Radio Show Presenter nomination by going on a road trip. I’ve booked a room at the Burgh Island Hotel in Devon for tonight.’
‘Ooh, I’ve always wanted to stay there!’ she said, the buzz of excitement making her voice squeaky.
He smiled. ‘I know.’
* * *
Four hours later they had their trouser legs rolled up to their knees and were wading through the cold, shallow seawater between the mainland and Burgh Island.
‘We could have taken the tractor across with the luggage,’ Tristan said, smirking as he caught her frowning at the icy cold water.
‘No, no, I wanted to walk,’ she said, teeth chattering, batting away his amusement. ‘It’s good for the health to get your feet in the cold sea.’ She drew in a deep lungful of the briny air and gave him an imperious look.
He raised an eyebrow and snorted. ‘You and your factual gobbledegook.’
Even though the sun was shining, the island wasn’t busy with tourists and it was so quiet the only sounds they could hear were the gentle lapping of the sea and the cries of the seagulls overhead.
Once they’d made it onto dry land and checked in at the opulent Art Deco hotel, Tristan led her over to the other side of the island so they could look out at the unbroken expanse of sea.
Lula took a deep breath as she gazed out at the endless blue-grey of the horizon. ‘It’s like being at the edge of the world,’ she said.
She turned to smile at him to find he was giving her such a loving look her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
Before she could say anything else, he surprised her by dropping to his knee and pulling something that looked like a small, black box out of his pocket.
‘What are you doing?’
she asked, even though she knew.
She knew.
His gaze held hers steadily as he flipped open the box to reveal a square cut diamond ring. It was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in her life.
Words failed her and she began to shake with excitement as she stared at him.
Luckily, Tristan knew exactly what to say.
‘I wanted to do this away from the distractions of the city, where it could just be the two of us. Alone together. I love you, Lula, and I want to spend the rest of my life getting to love you a bit more each day. Will you marry me?’
Tears filled her eyes as she experienced the most exquisite sense of peace and serenity. This is how it was meant to be, being here with him on equal terms, being sure, being happy.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I will.’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from NINE MONTH COUNTDOWN by Leah Ashton
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ONE
It had started exactly eleven steps down the aisle.
Ivy knew this, because she’d been counting.
Step, together one. Step, together two.
Generally the counting happened when she could feel the famous Molyneux temper bubbling away inside her. Or on the rare occasions she was nervous—although she couldn’t remember the last time that had been. But today, it was neither of those things. The bride—her sister April—was the one who should be feeling anxious. Marriage wasn’t something Ivy could see herself doing any time soon. She dated, occasionally, but never anything serious. Right now, her focus was on her work, and the family business, and everything else took a back seat. Because in Ivy’s experience relationships had an irritating habit of leaching into everything. And when it came to her career, well—anything that could damage that was just not acceptable.
But anyway... She’d been walking down the aisle, happily aware that the crowd seated in rows of white wooden chairs were peering around her for a glimpse of the bride, when she’d felt it. At exactly step eleven.
Someone wasn’t looking around her. Not at all. Someone was looking right at her, in a way that Ivy wouldn’t have thought possible. In a way that had weight.
And it was so strange, and so unexpected, that Ivy even stopped counting.
But she didn’t stop walking, and she didn’t shift her gaze from exactly where she was heading: the celebrant, a pretty wooden trellis temporarily constructed on the exclusive Nusa Dua beach, and the cerulean blue of the Indian Ocean beyond. Because today she was April’s chief bridesmaid, and she took any job that she was given seriously. Bridesmaid or Board Executive—it didn’t matter. Work was work, and Ivy always lived by the idea that you should never do anything if you weren’t going to do it right.
So she started counting afresh, and then made sure she completed her bridesmaid duties to the best of her ability.
But that weight didn’t lift until well after April had kissed her new husband. In fact, it wasn’t until April and Evan stood together to accept the hugs and well wishes of their guests that Ivy could finally openly search the crowd without fear of raising the ire of the videographer.
But by then it was too late. That heavy, heavy gaze was gone.
* * *
Much later—what seemed like hours of smiling for the photographer later—Ivy stood with her two sisters and the rest of the bridal party at the back of the enormous marquee that would host the wedding reception.
The luxury hotel their mother had booked for the occasion loomed four storeys high on three sides, hugging the marquee as it stared out to the ocean. A welcome whisper of a breeze skimmed Ivy’s bare shoulders and pushed the silk of her full-length dress against her legs. It was still warm, but Bali’s famous humidity appeared to have let up just a little. Regardless, a blonde make-up artist hovered amongst them, busily ‘fixing’ Ivy and her sisters before their big entrance. Can’t have your faces melting!
Ivy shifted her weight rather than rolling her eyes—which reminded her once again that crazily expensive, handmade, bespoke heels did not guarantee comfort. Not even close.
The Balinese wedding planner was barking out instructions in a failed attempt at a stage whisper, but having reviewed the day’s minute schedule—and provided a few useful suggestions—Ivy knew exactly where she should be. She strode over to Sean, Evan’s best mate—and best man—and hooked her arm through his.
‘Are we going in?’ he asked. Beer in hand, he clearly wasn’t taking his best-man duties as seriously as Ivy would’ve liked.
In fact, the music April had chosen for their entrance had started, so Ivy used her free hand to pluck the beer from Sean, and to hand it to the wedding planner.
‘And we just follow them?’ Sean asked as he watched Mila and Ed disappear into the marquee.
‘You were at the rehearsal, right?’ Ivy said, but she was smiling as she tugged Sean behind her.
Inside, the marquee opened up—it was only the rear wall that had, well, a wall. Otherwise it was edged with white fabric gathered curtain-like against each support. April’s two-hundred-odd guests sat at white-draped tables topped with ivory flower arrangements amongst dozens of sparkling chandeliers—and beyond them, framed by the marquee like a postcard, was the ocean. Of course, a Molyneux wedding would never be anything less than spectacular—but even Ivy was impressed. And timing their entrance just as the sun began to sink beneath the darkening blue of the ocean? Perfect.
Ivy was about halfway to the bridal table when she realised she was counting her steps again.
Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four...
But this time it annoyed her. Maybe it was the distraction of...of whatever it was she thought she’d felt during the ceremony—or maybe it was just that it kind of made sense that she’d be a bit tense while walking down the aisle, given her feelings about love and relationships. So counting her steps then had been okay.
But now? No, it wasn’t acceptable. Because now she recognised why she was doing it.
She was nervous. The way her stomach was flip-flopping all over the place made that crystal-clear.
Why?
She was used to having so many eyes on her. How many times had she been the spokesperson for Molyneux Mining? She had years of media training behind her. She’d been interviewed on live television, and she’d been splashed all over the newspapers—accurately and otherwise—her entire life.
So, yes, nineteen-year-old Ivy counted her steps all the time. Twenty-seven-year-old Ivy a hell of a lot less. Now, thirty-one-year-old Chief Operating Officer of Molyneux Mining Ivy shouldn’t need to do it at all.
Thirty-one-year-old Ivy was an accomplished, confident—powerful, some might say—grown-up. Counting steps was just...juvenile.
Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty—
‘What did I do?’ Sean asked as he pulled out her spindly chair at the long bridal table.
Ivy blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘You just told me to “Stop it”.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘With some force.’
‘I didn’t,’ she said, very quickly. Then sat down and fussed needlessly with her silverware as Sean took his own seat.
Ignoring Sean’s gaze, Iv
y looked up to watch April glide across the marquee, arm in arm with her new husband—and both with stars in their eyes.
Her little sister had never looked more beautiful: like a princess with her blonde hair piled up high, and the oversized skirt of her dress floating about her like a cloud.
Ivy couldn’t help but smile, the ridiculous mystery of the step counting put aside for the moment. She was so happy for April. Today was her dream come true.
Slowly she relaxed into her chair, allowing that inexplicable tension to ease from her body.
And it was right about then—right about when she decided that yes, it was totally fine to slide her heels off beneath the privacy of the long table cloth—that she felt it again.
That look. That heavy concentration of attention that made the back of her neck prickle, but other parts of her...tingle. And Ivy was not one for superfluous tingling.
But this time there was nothing stopping her from looking up—from searching the crowd for this person, for this...
Man.
There he was, on the opposite side of the parquet dance floor. With his close-cropped hair, and the broadest of broad shoulders, Ivy would’ve guessed he was in the military, even if she hadn’t already known he was.
Angus. His name was Angus...Something. She remembered his name had stood out amongst April’s seating plan and guest list—a name she didn’t recognise, and who April also didn’t know. An old school friend of Evan’s: All I know is that he’s a soldier, April had whispered with some awe, one of those special ones. SAS.
Amongst a million other wedding-planning things to do—and a million more work-related concerns—she hadn’t given the mysterious Angus Somebody another thought.