by Carrie Elks
Over his father’s shoulder, he saw her walking up the boardwalk, her red hair streaming behind her, not even hesitating when she saw them standing halfway down. She was wearing one of those sexy dresses again, the ones she wore to meetings at the bank and sessions at the court. Grey wool, tailored, clinging to her curves in a way that made his thoughts turn sinful.
‘You should probably go now,’ he said, unable to take his eyes off her. ‘My girlfriend’s here, and we have things to talk about.’
His father turned, following Ryan’s gaze. ‘You mean Thomas Marshall’s wife.’
This time Ryan couldn’t stop the grin from breaking out. ‘No I don’t. I mean my girlfriend. So please get off my wharf, you’re not welcome here.’
His father stared at him, his eyes tight. ‘You betrayed me. I won’t forget that.’
‘I don’t care whether you forget it or not. What you think is of zero importance to me. I have so many better things to occupy my mind.’
She was getting closer. Enough for Ryan to see the smile on her face as she met his impatient gaze. Enough for his hands to start clasping and unclasping with the need to touch her.
Every time he saw her, she was like a bright burst of sun on a crisp fall day. Welcome, warming, all-consuming.
‘London,’ he called out, ignoring his father still huffing next to him. ‘What are you trying to do to me in that dress?’
As she came within a few feet of them, her face fell for a moment as she recognised his dad. Ryan watched her as she took in a breath before squaring her shoulders.
‘Hey.’ She smiled at him. The smile fell off her face as she addressed his father. ‘Hello, Mr Sutherland.’
‘Ah, no need for the pleasantries,’ Ryan told her. ‘He’s just leaving.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘He is? I hope it wasn’t something I said.’
Ryan laughed. ‘You didn’t say anything, babe.’ He reached for her, pulling her close against his side. The contact made his body relax almost instantly. ‘It’s more that he has nothing else to say.’
‘You’re right. I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ his father spat out. ‘I’m ashamed of you, messing around with a married woman. No wonder you broke your mother’s heart.’
Ryan couldn’t help it. ‘Hey, London, are you a married woman?’ he asked her.
She shook her head, beaming. ‘Nope.’
‘Didn’t think so.’ Though his words were calm, his heart was racing. He turned to his father. ‘Now get out of here. I want to talk to this beautiful woman.’
Stepping back, his father looked them up and down, a sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth. ‘This isn’t over,’ he warned. ‘Not by a long shot.’
‘It is for me,’ Ryan said. His tone left no room for argument. For a moment his father remained, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to find something to say. But then he turned on his heel and stomped back up the boardwalk, leaving a trail of sawdust behind him.
He was going to have a hell of a job trying to get it out of all his clothes.
Juliet reached up to stroke his cheek, her hand grazing the bristles there. ‘What was that all about?’
‘Ah, just my father being himself.’
‘Sounds as delightful as Thomas being Thomas.’
‘Those two are like peas in a pod,’ Ryan agreed. ‘So tell me, is it true? Is it really over?’ He turned until he was facing her.
She nodded slowly. ‘I’m no longer Mrs Juliet Marshall.’
He sighed, feeling any tension seeping out of his muscles. ‘Thank God for that. Did you get what you asked for?’
‘Everything. Gloria was like a hungry shark.’ She smiled. ‘Not that I came out of it with a lot. What do you think about having a broke woman for a girlfriend?’
‘What’s mine is yours.’ He laughed. ‘Not that I’ve got a whole lot either.’
She jabbed him in the side. ‘Liar. You’ve got a son, a house, a wharf. An ex-girlfriend living around the corner and a new girlfriend living next door. Whether you like it or not, your life is full of things.’
‘It sounds complicated,’ he said.
‘It does,’ she agreed. ‘How do you feel about that?’
A smile tugged the corner of his lips. ‘I feel pretty damned good,’ he told her. ‘Sticking around is only scary when there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.’
‘And there’s really nowhere you’d rather be than Shaw Haven?’ she questioned.
He leaned down, pressing his lips against the tip of her pretty nose. Almost immediately the dust did its magic, making her face wrinkle before she sneezed loudly.
‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be in the world than right here with you,’ he whispered, trying to stifle his laugh as she started sneezing again. ‘You’re my family. You, Charlie and Poppy. Home is wherever you are. I’m a photographer, all I need is a camera and I can earn a living. I figure Shaw Haven’s as good a place as any to do that.’
It had warmed her heart when he’d decided not to move to New York. Though she’d promised him they’d make it work, even if they were long distance, he hadn’t wanted that. He wanted to stay with her. And now he was working on the wharf and taking freelance photography commissions when they came. Between the two things he was crazily busy.
They both were, but that was the way they liked it.
‘I like the sound of that.’ She wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him close.
‘You’re going to get that sexy dress all messed up,’ he warned her. ‘There’s dust everywhere.’
She moved her hands up, hooking them around his neck. Without needing to be asked twice, he grabbed her by the waist, leaning down so his face was only a few inches from hers.
‘I don’t care about the dress,’ she whispered. ‘If I had my way it’d be crumpled on your floor by this evening anyway.’
‘Oh yeah?’ He brushed his lips against hers. Her gasp warmed his skin. ‘I look forward to it.’
‘Me, too,’ she whispered, the words vibrating against his mouth. ‘But first we have to pick up the kids and explain what the hell’s been going on.’
‘Do we have to? Can’t we just go home and jump on each other?’ His tone was enough to let her know he was teasing.
‘You’re as rampant as a teenager.’
‘I feel like a teenager,’ he told her. ‘It’s like we’ve got to explain to our parents that we’ve somehow fallen in love. What if they don’t like the idea? What if they’re unhappy?’
‘What if they forbid us to see each other again?’ She smiled against him. ‘Relax, they’re going to be delighted. We’re not Romeo and Juliet. The stars aren’t crossed against us.’
‘That’s good, because I’d defy them anyway.’
She looked up at him, her brows raised. ‘Are you misquoting Shakespeare to me?’
‘You know it, babe.’
She laughed loudly. ‘Come on, Romeo, let’s go and pick up the children. We’ve got some explaining to do.’
‘Does that mean we’re going to live in Ryan’s house?’ Poppy asked, her brows knitted together. ‘Will I have to share Charlie’s room? Will he get angry if I put my stuff in there? Remember what he was like when I tried to put flowers in the tree house?’
‘You won’t make her sleep in my room, will you, Dad?’ Charlie asked. ‘She can have one of the other bedrooms can’t she?’
‘Can I paint it pink?’ Poppy clapped her hands together. ‘I want it pink with white clouds, and a princess bed. Please can I?’
Juliet looked over at Ryan. A mixture of amusement and surprise had made his eyes wide and his mouth drop open. For the past five minutes, ever since they’d sat Poppy and Charlie down in Ryan’s kitchen and explained things, the two children had been shooting questions at them like snipers at a range.
‘Slow down,’ Juliet said, laughing. ‘We’re not moving in here.’ Ryan tipped his head to the side, looking questioningly at her. ‘Not yet, anyway. We need to
take this slowly.’
‘But I like this house better. Ryan, you want us to move in, don’t you?’ Poppy asked him.
He put his hands up. ‘Your mom’s right, we can take this slowly. But Charlie and I love having you around, and you know you’re always welcome here.’
‘Should I call you Daddy?’
Juliet covered her mouth to stifle the laughter. Ryan rolled his lips between his teeth, looking at her for help.
‘You already have a daddy,’ Juliet reminded her daughter. ‘Ryan’s your friend, not your daddy.’
‘He’s my daddy though,’ Charlie said, proudly.
‘Yes I am.’ Ryan pursed his lips and blew some air out. ‘And it would give me the greatest pleasure to be your friend, Poppy.’ He offered her his hand, and she shook it firmly, her face lighting up.
‘It gives me the greatest pleasure, too, Ryan.’ Her voice had a serious tone. Juliet bit down another smile.
‘Wait, does that mean Poppy’s going to be my sister?’ Charlie asked, still looking confused. ‘And what about the baby in my mom’s tummy, will Poppy be her sister, too?’
‘Oh yeah, will I be their sister?’ Poppy echoed.
Taking a deep breath, Juliet reached for each of their hands. ‘Try to take it easy, guys. I know there’s a lot to take in at the moment, and you have so many questions. And we’ll both try to answer them as honestly as we can. But we don’t have all the answers either. This is new to all of us. We’ll work through it all together.’
She felt Ryan wrap his arms around her. ‘She’s right,’ he said, his voice low. ‘We haven’t got it all figured out yet, but we know the important stuff. We love you both, and you love us.’
‘And you love each other, right?’ Poppy prompted.
He laughed. ‘Right. We love each other, too. We’re a family, and we want to be together. The rest we can figure out over time.’
‘We’re family,’ Charlie echoed, his eyes wide with wonder. ‘Poppy, me, you and Juliet, Mom and Carl … ’
‘And the new baby,’ Poppy added.
‘Yeah, when she gets here,’ Charlie said. ‘But I’m not cleaning any poopy diapers.’
‘Me either,’ Poppy agreed, wrinkling her nose up. ‘Mommy, how did the baby get in Sheridan’s tummy?’
Juliet’s mouth dropped open. Where the hell did that come from? Ryan winked at her, biting down a grin, as he waited for her response.
‘Um, who wants a drink?’ Juliet asked. ‘I could really do with a glass of water right now.’
A moment later she was headed into the kitchen, thankful for a moment’s respite from the constant questions. Taking four glasses from the cupboard, she placed them carefully on the granite work surface as she felt two arms wrap around her waist from behind.
‘You okay, London?’ Ryan said, nuzzling his face against hers. ‘I thought you were going to have some kind of heart attack in there.’
She turned her head to look at him. ‘I’m sorry about all the questions.’
‘I think they let us off lightly. Just wait until tomorrow, they’ll have even more to throw at us.’
She laughed. ‘You’re right. And you know them too well.’
‘They’re arguing about whose house is best, yours or mine. If they’re not careful, they’ll both be living in the tree house.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Don’t suggest that, they’ll jump at it. And then they’ll start arguing about whose house it is.’
He put his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. His eyes softened as he smiled at her. ‘Do you get the impression that they’re the ones who really rule the roost?’ he asked her. ‘Imagine what they’ll be like when they’re teenagers.’
She shuddered. ‘I don’t want to think about that at all.’ Tipping her head up, she smiled at him. ‘At least we’ll have each other. Maybe we can hide out in the tree house instead.’
He pressed his forehead against hers. ‘I’d like that.’
‘You would?’
‘Yeah. Wouldn’t you?’
She opened her mouth to tell him she’d be happy wherever they were, as long as they were together. But then she closed it again, silenced by the intensity of his stare. There was no need for words when actions said it all.
Ryan was too busy kissing her for that.
Epilogue
Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love
– Hamlet
Cesca walked into the small room where her sisters were waiting, her hands lifting her dress at the hips so the hem wouldn’t get caught in the doorway. Juliet gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, feeling tears stinging at her eyes.
Her sister looked beautiful. The way every bride should on her wedding day.
The tears spilled over, hot saltwater cutting through Juliet’s make-up – expertly applied that morning by the artist Cesca had flown in. Silently, Lucy handed Juliet a small white handkerchief, and Juliet lifted it to her cheeks, surreptitiously dabbing the tears away.
‘You look amazing,’ Kitty said, stepping forward with a big smile on her face. ‘Sam’s going to freak when he sees you.’
‘You’re gorgeous,’ Lucy agreed, beaming at her younger sibling. ‘That dress is just as lovely as I remember it.’
She was wearing the white gown she’d modelled for them all those months ago, when they’d Skyped into her dress-fitting session at a Beverly Hills boutique. The white fabric flowers appliqued to the sheer material of the bodice matched the flowers Cesca’s hairdresser had artfully woven into her hair. Cesca had wanted to keep things simple – white dress, white flowers, white ties worn by the groomsmen. The only colour was on her sisters’ and niece’s dresses. Lucy, Juliet and Kitty were sheathed in the palest of pink, while Poppy’s dress was a little darker, and unlike their body-skimming fabric, hers was voluminous, her underskirts pushing her dress out until she looked like she belonged on the set of Gone with the Wind.
Of course, she was in heaven.
‘Where’s Poppy?’ Cesca asked, looking around. It was as if she could read Juliet’s mind.
‘She went to the bathroom.’ Juliet wrinkled her nose. ‘I had to help her, of course, but then she shooed me away and said she wanted to primp and preen – her words – in front of the mirror for a while.’
Cesca bit down a smile. ‘Well, she did look gorgeous. She’s the perfect flower girl.’
Juliet raised her eyebrows. ‘Let’s hope so.’ She looked back at the table full of flowers, the bouquets she’d made up first thing that morning before her sisters had even got out of bed. ‘Are you ready for your flowers?’ she asked Cesca.
Cesca nodded.
Carefully, Juliet lifted the bouquet, feeling her throat tighten. Surely she wasn’t going to burst into tears all over again? Since they’d arrived in the UK two days before, she must have cried a river. First at being reunited with her father – in spite of his frailty – and then at showing Poppy her childhood city. And now they were all in the Highlands of Scotland, spending time in the place Lucy called home, and she was as emotional as hell.
Cry me a loch.
‘These are amazing,’ Cesca said softly, as Juliet placed the flowers carefully into her grip. White roses were mixed with white poppies – their black centres adding a depth to the arrangement. In between, Juliet had laced them with baby’s breath – symbolising everlasting and undying love. ‘I can’t believe how clever you are.’
Juliet gave her sister a watery smile, determined not to steal the limelight with her emotions. Somehow she needed to get them under control, otherwise she’d end up sobbing during the ceremony, and that really wouldn’t do.
There was a knock on the door, then the vicar popped his head around, the sun through the window behind them glinting off his shiny domed head. He was dressed in a black robe, with a white surplice over the top, and a long scarf lying down the front of his tunic. There
was a big smile on his face – from the start he’d been enthusiastic about this wedding, promising he’d do his best to keep it as private as possible – and he held his hand out to Cesca, telling her how lovely she looked.
‘Are you okay?’ Lucy whispered, as Juliet bit her bottom lip, feeling those emotions swirling up all over again. ‘I haven’t seen you like this for years. Not since that time we went to see Mary Poppins at the theatre, and you were wailing like a banshee.’ Lucy grinned. ‘Of course that time you were pregnant, so you had an excuse … ’ Her voice trailed off.
Their eyes met, both wide and shocked. Juliet found herself touching her stomach with her hand. It was as flat as ever – or as flat as it could be after having a child. No, she couldn’t be, could she?
They’d been careful. They really had.
The door behind them opened – the one that led to the bathrooms – and Poppy ran in, sounding out of breath. ‘You’re not leaving without me are you?’ she asked, having to force her way past a chair and a table, her pink dress knocking everything out of her way.
She was a tour-de-force. One of a kind. Surely there couldn’t be one more of her?
And really, Juliet meant that in the nicest way.
The vicar looked completely unperturbed by Poppy’s entrance. The smile was still plastered to his face. ‘So we’ll do it just as we rehearsed. I’ll walk in first, then Poppy will come in and lay the petals down as she walks. Then Cesca will follow, and her bridesmaids will be at the back.’ He looked at them, nodding. ‘In age order.’
Okay, so they might have squabbled a bit over who was walking at the front. Old habits died hard.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked Cesca again.
She nodded, her face resolute. ‘I’m ready.’
Lucy took one last glance at Juliet, concern on her face. ‘We’ll talk later,’ she mouthed. Juliet wasn’t sure if that was a threat or not. She was sure that she wasn’t ready to talk, even if there was anything to talk about.
Which there wasn’t. Because there couldn’t be.