The Temporary Bride

by Marquita Valentine

  “Once in high school, and again in college to see if the first time was a fluke.”

  “And what happened?”

  “They both hit it and quit it.” She glanced away, her face heating at the term. “After the second guy, I swore I wouldn’t put myself in a position like that again.”

  “You swore off sex entirely?”

  “Celibacy isn’t such a bad thing. And I didn’t rule out orgasms. I love those,” she said, then she had to take another breath. “I’m not saying I don’t want to ever have sex again. I just want to be really sure.”

  Why was she telling him this? It was none of his business, and they weren’t even married yet. He would think she was a freak and refuse to go through with the wedding.

  She felt his hand on her face, gently turning it so she would face him. Biting her lip, she glanced up.

  “No matter what you think of me, I won’t betray your trust. I won’t betray you at all. Even though what we’re doing is for convenience, I’ll treat our marriage like it’s real. I’ll be the most loving, the most devoted husband baseball’s ever seen.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of the ramifications of marrying someone who was in the spotlight.

  What if he was caught supposedly cheating on her? How would that make him look to his fans? More importantly, how would that make him look to his family?

  “Thank you,” she said softly and laid her head against his chest.

  He stroked her hair, murmured something unintelligible into it, and then kissed her forehead. “I need to go.”

  “What will you tell your family and friends?”

  “That we’re getting married.”

  “I’ll do the same.” It wouldn’t be a lie, and thank God Willow knew the truth because Haven would have probably blurt it out anyway.

  He caressed the side of her face. “Who knows—maybe after we’re married, you’ll like it so much that you won’t want to get a divorce.”

  She smiled instead of answering and stepped out of his warm embrace, quickly opening the door so he could leave before she said something stupid. Obviously, their make-out session was too much for her to handle because he turned her into a moaning, needy, confessing hot mess of a woman.

  A light breeze washed over her, clearing her head.

  Heath waved at her as he sped away, and she lifted her hand in return. Gotham rubbed against her legs. Bending over, she picked up her cat and buried her face into her fur, trying to replace Heath’s mouthwatering scent.

  What was she going to do with him?

  Gotham meowed.

  She smiled sadly. She knew what she had to do, and she had been completely upfront with him from the beginning.

  Their marriage would end as soon as Chesson House was in her name.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  That evening, Haven texted Willow instead of calling her. Sure, it might have been the coward’s way out, but she actually didn’t want to hear her friend gloat.

  HAVEN: He said yes.

  WILLOW: OMG

  HAVEN: We’re getting married in two days.

  WILLOW: OMG

  HAVEN: He wants a real wedding so his momma won’t be upset. Guess he didn’t think about how the inevitable divorce would affect her.

  WILLOW: OMG

  HAVEN: That’s not funny.

  WILLOW: OMG

  HAVEN: I swear, if you type OMG one more time, I’ll never speak to you again.

  Her phone rang.

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny. My stupid phone got stuck,” Willow said in a rush as soon as Haven answered. “Holy crap, Haven. I don’t know what to say.”

  “As long as it’s not OMG, we’re okay.”

  Willow snort-giggled. “It was a natural reaction.”

  “It made me consider first-degree murder.”

  “Is that when you plan to kill someone, and then carry it out?”

  “Yep,” she answered cheerfully.

  “That’s sick you know that.”

  “It was the answer to a Jeopardy question last night.”

  “Fun.” Willow was silent for a moment. “Do I get to plan your wedding?”

  “Do you have time to plan my wedding?”

  “Um… wellllll… actually, I—”

  “You’ve already planned my wedding, haven’t you?”

  She could practically hear the wince in Willow’s voice as she spoke, “I’m sorry. It’s just something I do. But if you hate it, then I can totally change it, or we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking simple but classy. A nod to the past but with modern touches. Pinks and whites with sparkly accents. Lavender and lilac centerpieces to match your bouquet. All your favorite hors d’oeuvres.”

  Warmth suffused Haven. Tears actually gathered in her throat. Yes, she hadn’t planned to ever marry, but the fact that her best friend had taken the time to think about what she could possibly want made her feel wholly inferior as a friend.

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Darn right you don’t”

  Haven mocked gasped in outrage. “Willow Vaughn, did something mean just leave your mouth?”

  “What can I say—you’re a very good influence on me,” she chirped.

  Haven shook her head. “Okay, I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, so this means you have to uphold yours.”

  “But I’m not brave like you,” Willow replied in a small voice. “Besides, he’s still with Corinne and until he’s not, then Logan is off-limits.”

  The sadness in her friend’s voice made her regret the reminder she’d given her. “I was only teasing you, Willow. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, especially something so outside your comfort zone.”

  “I know…but maybe one day, I’ll get the chance to do something really unexpected and shock even you.”

  Haven smiled. “I hope you do.” Then she changed the subject, and they began to plan.

  *

  Heath sat at the dinner table with his parents and his brother Luke while they finished up dessert. So far, the only one giving him narrowed-eyed looks was his brother, but that was because he’d taken the last piece of angel food cake.

  “That was a very short date,” his mother said, breaking the silence.

  His dad kept right on eating, taking sips of coffee every so often.

  “What date?” Luke asked.

  “He had one with Haven Crawford,” his mother said before he could answer.

  Luke blinked at him. “Really? I though the two of you couldn’t—”

  “We’ve worked out our differences,” he interjected before his brother could reveal too much. While his mother thought the world of Haven for what she had done for her grandparents, she didn’t take so kindly to anyone giving her children a hard time.

  Least of all a woman who constantly shot down his intelligence every chance she got. But she sure as hell hadn’t shot him down when he kissed her. And she’d had several opportunities to do so.

  His phone buzzed and he sneaked a peek. A text from Haven popped up on the screen with details on the date, place, and time of the wedding. Guess it was time to share the rest.

  Heart kicking against his chest, he continued, “I know this might come as a shock, but we—Haven and I have…well, you see, we have this history, and when I came home, it came back to life.”

  His brother gave him an odd look, while their mother stared at him in rapt attention. Meanwhile, he thought he sounded like an idiot. A transparent idiot. Haven was going to kill him.

  “What are you trying to say?” his mother asked.

  “Haven and I are getting married in three days.” He smiled at all their shocked faces. “We’d love for you to come. It’ll be at Chesson House. At one-thirty in the afternoon.”

  With that, he rose from the chair and grabbed his plate before heading to the kitchen and placing it in the dishwasher. No
one followed him. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  Kind of like his upcoming marriage to Haven.

  *

  Later that evening, after a seven-mile run and a shower, Heath stretched out in his old bed. A yawn cracked his mouth open.

  Instead of going to sleep right away, he got his laptop out and watched videos of old games.

  After he just noticed that Smithson couldn’t hit a basic slider, his phone buzzed.

  HAVEN: What’s your favorite song?

  Brow furrowing, he set his laptop to the side and answered her.

  HEATH: Anything by Jaxon Hunter.

  HAVEN: Ugh. You would.

  He laughed.

  HEATH: I saw your foot tapping to his latest at Bobby and Darla Rae’s wedding.

  HAVEN: My foot is not responsible for its reactions to musical stimuli.

  HEATH: What’s your favorite song?

  HAVEN: Girl Crush.

  That was an odd choice. Which guy did she want back? A surge of unexpected jealousy hit him.

  HEATH: That might not be the best song to dance to at our wedding.

  HAVEN: We can dance to whatever we want.

  Shit. Now she was all defensive.

  HEATH: But we can’t leave our friends behind, even if they don’t dance.

  HAVEN: Stop making me laugh. You’re not supposed to be this funny.

  He pressed call on his screen.

  She picked up after the second ring.

  “I’d rather make you laugh than you be pissed off at me,” he said.

  “As long as you don’t say something to piss me off, then you should be okay.”

  “I don’t think I can be quiet for the next sixty years, Haven.”

  A cross between a snort and a giggle left her. “We’ve already known each other for what…fifteen years now? I guess I can put up with the things that come out of your mouth.”

  “You’re in a good mood,” he observed.

  “I’m drinking margaritas!”

  And that explained so much. “With Willow?”

  “Yep! We’re at her place. I’m going to spend the night.”

  “Very smart thinking, but if you want to go anywhere, call me and I’ll come get you.”

  “Like on a date?” She hiccupped.

  “Sure. Like on a date.”

  “What if I told you that Gotham needs you… to let her go potty?” She dissolved into a fit of laughter.

  “I’d put on my cape and rescue the poor cat.”

  “You have a cape.”

  “I wasn’t being literal.”

  “You literally have a cape? Can I wear it?”

  He bit back a laugh at her enthusiasm. “Put Willow on the phone, honey.”

  “Don’t call me honey, sweetheart. Or is that darlin’? Willow, what’s the song to the words?”

  He heard some rustling, and then an ouch followed by a, “Sit down now.”

  “Sorry. It’s kind of hit her all at once,” Willow said. “She’s been doing shots with her margaritas, but don’t worry, I’m not drinking.”

  “Tell him Ed Sheeran. SEVENTYYYYY,” Haven shouted.

  “Did you catch that?” Willow asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you know why she’s yelling his name and a random number?”

  Favorite artist and song with that lyric in it. He’d make sure it was the one they danced to first. “I do.”

  “Good. Anyway, sorry to bother you. I hid her phone, but she found it and texted you before I could stop her. Girl can’t hold her liquor.”

  “No, she can’t. Why is she drinking tonight?”

  “This is her bachelorette party.”

  “What about Daisy and Bella?”

  Willow got quiet for a moment. Then, “Haven, lay down and I’ll be right back.”

  Heath sat up in bed. What had he said that made Willow leave the room?

  “They’re on the other side of the world, Heath, each married to their very own Prince Charming with the whole fairy-tale ending.”

  Yeah, he knew Bella had her prince charming now. He hoped like hell she was happy with her choice. “They wouldn’t want to celebrate with her?”

  “She’s marrying one of her best friend’s ex-boyfriends to keep her business from being sold out from under due to her misguided grandparents’ will. What do you think?”

  “I see.”

  “Do you, Heath? Do you really see her? Because she’s looked at you for years, and you never treated her as anything but a thorn in your side.”

  “Maybe that’s because she’s always acted like one.”

  “Have you ever thought to ask why?”

  “Have you?” he countered.

  “I’ve known for her as long as you have—I don’t have to ask her why because I already know the answer.”

  With that, she ended their call and left him staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he was missing.

  Chapter Eight

  ‡

  In the two days that followed, Haven’s life became inundated with wedding plans and Ambroses, but not the Ambrose she did and did not want to see. Instead, cousins, aunts, soon-to-be sisters-in-law, and of course, her soon-to-be mother-in-law descended upon her like a plague of locusts dressed in Lily Pulitzer. And they all had two things on their minds—bridal showers and bridal gowns.

  Which was why she was sitting in the middle of the Ambrose living room, covered in ribbons and wrapping paper. She’d been opening presents for what seemed like hours and growing more and more uneasy with each one.

  They were so thoughtful and so cute, right down to the matching Hello Kitty salt and pepper shakers. It was like they got her, or Willow had given them suggestions. Either way, the fact they bought something so undeniably nontraditional meant a lot to her.

  “Do you have a gown, sugar?” Leah asked, placing her teacup on a dainty saucer. “My son sprung this on you so quickly that I’m sure you haven’t had time to think, much less shop.”

  A gown? Holy crud. She hadn’t even thought about a gown. Panicking she searched for Willow while trying to stall, “I—that is—”

  Her friend, bless her heart, didn’t miss a beat. “It’s gorgeous, Mrs. Ambrose. All antique lace from the 1920s, and the most precious hand-beading you’ve ever seen. Every Crawford woman wears it on her wedding day as good luck.”

  Every single lady in the room sighed at once, including Haven, but hers was of relief, not because of a romantic family tradition that did not exist.

  “Can we see it?”

  “No,” Haven all but shouted. The room turned silent and she blushed. Where in the heck would she get a dress that matched Willow’s description? And in under twelve hours. She was getting married tomorrow.

  Panic started to set in. Her skin began to itch, began to feel too tight. There wasn’t enough air in the room. Willow moved closer to Haven, as if she could sense her distress.

  She placed a cool hand on her bare shoulder, whispering, “It’s okay,” before raising her voice, “Haven wanted to surprise you with it today, but there was the tiniest of rips in the hem and that wouldn’t do. As soon as we’re done here, I’ll be working on that this afternoon. You don’t mind not seeing the gown until tomorrow, do you, Mrs. Ambrose?”

  It was all Haven could do to keep her mouth from dropping open. She hoped that meant Willow actually had a gown.

  Leah’s eyes rounded. “Of course not.” She leaned over and placed her hand over Haven’s. “At least he did right by you and proposed with a proper engagement ring.”

  Haven bit the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting that his proper engagement ring was a fake diamond she’d bought for twenty dollars at Target.

  “Mm-hmm.” She began to fidget in her seat, pulling at her pleated skirt as her leg began to shake. It was a nervous tic left over from childhood. Her so-called perfect plan hadn’t included spending time with people who actually seemed like they wanted to get to know her. They laugh
ed at her jokes and asked get-to-know-you questions. Sure, there were a few who gave her side-eyed looks, but for the most part, Heath’s family was…nice.

  Guilt rose, like a thorny weed, pricking at her insides. She was so selfish to do this. But, she reminded herself, how else could she keep Chesson House? The only alternative she had would be to buy the place from the trust, but she stubbornly refused to go into debt to own a business she already ran.

  Willow made a big show of checking the time. “Oh my word, Haven. You have to go.”

  “I do?”

  Willow shot her a look.

  “Yes, I do.” She let go of her skirt and touched her hair. “Salon time.”

  “Different color for the wedding?” Leah asked.

  Haven shook her head. “Just a touch up.” That probably wasn’t the answer her mother-in-law was hoping for.

  “Wonderful. I love the color.”

  “You do?”

  Leah gave her a sheepish look. “I think it’s daring. If I weren’t so… conservative, I might try it myself.”

  “Maybe you can get one strand done. They have non-permanent hair color like the chalk stuff they sell at the hair product supply store.”

  That set off another round of conversations, each woman taking a turn to share a hair disaster or triumph.

  Willow bent down and whispered, “Do I need to remind you of the time again?”

  Haven glanced around the room, taking in the women chatting so animatedly. “No. I’m good.” For the first time in a very long time, she felt like she belonged.

  *

  The next afternoon, Haven stood in her bedroom, holding a bouquet of lilacs, lavender, and sweet William while her best friend and mother-in-law fussed over her.

  “Gorgeous,” Leah said as she adjusted the tiara in Haven’s hair and stepped back to run a critical eye over her. “The dress is pretty, too.”

  Haven fingered her tiara. “The Queen of—ouch.” She glared at Willow.

  “Just say thank you.” Or else hung in the air.

  Since she didn’t relish another pinch from her friend, she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Leah glanced at the grandmother clock that stood in the corner of the large bedroom. “I need to go.” She touched Haven’s cheek. “The next time we speak, you’ll be my daughter-in-law.”