Mia's Wedding Page 6

  “Gabi!” Lucia scolded, poking her friend on the arm. “Shut up and let Mia talk, would you? If you hadn’t been bloody late, as usual, we could have been getting all the details by now!”

  Gabrielle stuck her tongue out at Lucia, then turned to Mia in silence, an expectant look on her face.

  Mia pulled her hand back and folded them both protectively in her lap, then took a deep breath in an attempt to slow her racing heart and get her thoughts in order. Shit, saying it out loud is going to make it real. “Before I tell any of you a single thing, I’m afraid I’m going to have to swear you to absolute secrecy. Nobody knows yet, not even his parents, and we don’t want it getting out until we’ve told them, all right? So, can I rely on your absolute discretion? It’s incredibly important.”

  “Yes,” Lucia and Phoebe said together.

  Gabrielle’s more reluctant-sounding reply came a second later. “Of course.”

  “Good. Thank you. It shouldn’t be for long—as soon as we’ve told his parents, there will be an official announcement, and then you no longer have to keep the secret, okay?”

  “I have to ask, Mia,” Phoebe said, a frown line appearing between her perfectly-groomed dark-blond eyebrows, “if it’s a secret, why the hell are you swanning about with that gorgeous ring on your finger? Bit of a giveaway, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “I forgot to take it off before I came out. Now are you going to shut up and let me tell the story, or what?”

  Three nods.

  “Thank you. Okay, all three of your questions, Gabi, you’ll be pleased to know, can be answered in one fell swoop. The who is Elias Pym. He gave me this engagement ring when he proposed to me, and I accepted. This was only last night—hence you not knowing about it. Nobody bloody knows, because it literally just happened, all right?”

  She looked around at her friends: the fair-haired, pale-skinned Phoebe, the black-haired, dark-brown skinned Lucia, and Gabrielle, with her shining brunette mane and a deep tan that was all natural, due to her regular foreign travels as PA to a globetrotting businessman.

  Phoebe, who was a lawyer and therefore incredibly good at asking awkward questions and getting to the truth, broke the silence. “First of all, congratulations. I admit I’m a little taken aback at this sudden news, but your eyes went all gooey when you spoke about him, which is definitely a good sign. So, who is he? How did you meet? And when? And… isn’t it all a bit, well, quick after losing Edward? Or is that why? Life’s too short and all that—”

  “Hey,” Gabrielle interrupted, screwing her nose up and flipping her hair over her shoulder, “now who’s not letting Mia talk?”

  Phoebe glared at Gabrielle, but said nothing, merely lifting a hand towards Mia to encourage her to speak.

  Pressing her lips together for a moment to suppress her mirth, Mia then replied, “Bloody hell, talk about the Spanish Inquisition!” She shook her head, then, just as she was about to start answering the next barrage of questions, the good-looking waiter appeared with two glasses of wine and a bowl sectioned into quarters and packed full of savoury nibbles. He placed the glasses in front of Mia and Gabrielle, and the nibbles in the centre of the table.

  “Oh, thank you,” Gabrielle said, her tone sugary sweet. “You are very kind.”

  “You’re welcome,” the waiter replied, his cheeks colouring at her blatant flirtation. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need, ladies.” He gave a quaint little bow and hurried away.

  Lucia gave a throaty chuckle. “Think you’ve scared him away, Gabi.”

  The brunette shrugged and picked up her glass of wine. “Man doesn’t know what’s good for him.” She took a sip, inspiring Mia to do the same thing.

  “So,” Phoebe said pointedly, as Mia put her glass back on the table. “Where were we?”

  “We were in the middle of a session of endless questioning,” Mia replied dryly. “Let me think… Right, he is a thirty-year-old investment banker. He works at Canary Wharf. He is incredibly handsome—clearly I’m biased, but still… We met at a charity event in November. And yes, maybe it is a bit quick, but just because we’re engaged doesn’t mean we’re getting married tomorrow. It’ll be this year sometime, but we haven’t even talked dates yet. And…” She tailed off, wondering how to respond to the bit about it being anything to do with her dad without lying. She couldn’t exactly say it was nothing to do with him. When the weight of her friends’ stares became too much, she eventually said, “That’s it, really.” Hopefully they’d take the hint and leave that part of the conversation well alone now.

  “Congratulations, sweetheart. Sounds like you’ve bagged yourself a good one, there. An investment banker at Canary Wharf,” Gabrielle said, impressed. “I look forward to meeting this incredibly handsome man. Hey—have you got a photo?”

  Bollocks. Just as Mia thought she’d managed to steer the topic to safer waters, Gabrielle had to come out with that, didn’t she? She took another sip of her wine to try to combat her suddenly dry mouth. “No, I don’t. Elias isn’t much for photos.”

  “Selfish bugger,” Gabrielle replied with a cackle. “Doesn’t he know your friends want to check him out?”

  The others laughed, and Mia joined in, her panic lifting a little. “Honestly, it hasn’t really come up. But I’ll be sure to pass on your message. Are you done grilling me, then? Can we talk about something else? I want to know what you guys have been up to—how your jobs are going, your love lives, the works. And once we’re all up to date, maybe we can discuss…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Wedding planning!”

  As she’d expected, Phoebe and Gabrielle grew very animated, bouncing in their chairs and clapping their hands excitedly.

  What she hadn’t expected was for Lucia to sit silently, twiddling one of her braids until the others calmed down, then say, “Of course we can talk about something else, sweetheart. First, I’m sorry, but I have to ask… how are you doing? Really, I mean, since losing your dad. I’ve thought of you often, but respected your clear need for space. But I care about you, we care about you, and just want to make sure you’re doing okay. Or as okay as can be expected.”

  And, just like that, the mood around the table sunk faster than a deflating balloon. Mia nodded slowly to acknowledge Lucia’s words, then gulped down another mouthful of her drink. She blew out a heavy breath and fidgeted with the stem of her glass. “I appreciate you guys giving me space. And I know you care about me. I’m… well, to parrot your words, Luc, I’m as okay as can be expected. I have good days and bad days. Occasionally I’ll burst into tears with no warning, but then it’s early days, isn’t it? I miss him constantly, but I’m glad he’s no longer suffering. Mostly I try to keep busy—”

  “And succeed, knowing you,” Phoebe put in with a warm smile.

  Mia smiled back. “Well, yeah, I am busy with running the estate, but I love it. And now there’s also a wedding on the horizon, I’m going to be even busier! So I hope you guys are up for helping me out. Especially you, Lucia—I’m hoping with your contacts in the fashion industry that we’ll be able to track down the perfect dress without too much hassle. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” She stopped and shook her head. “For all I know, we might decide to marry abroad, or have a small, intimate ceremony. I really have no idea at this stage. Anyway, I thought we were talking about something else now? I’m sick of the sound of my own voice! Can we please move on?”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon drinking wine, eating their snacks—which the waiter topped up twice, leading Gabrielle to think maybe he wasn’t as scared as he’d made out—catching up, gossiping, and generally putting the world to rights. By the time Mia descended back into the bowels of the Underground, she had a sore throat from all the talking she’d done, but her soul felt lighter than it had in months. She resolved not to leave it so long before seeing her closest friends again. A chuckle escaped her. Fat chance of that—with her upcoming nuptials to plan, she had no doub
t she’d be seeing and hearing from them more than ever before. And perhaps that was exactly what she needed—some female company to balance out the time she spent with the men in her life.

  It was just a shame she’d have to consider everything she said in front of them carefully, so she didn’t give away the truth of what was actually happening in her love life. She pushed the thought away hurriedly, determined to harness the good mood she was now in and carry it with her all the way home. Mind you, she thought, Tom’s waiting for me at home. If the prospect of seeing him doesn’t keep me in a good mood, then nothing will.

  Chapter Seven

  It was Monday morning and Mia was getting stuck in to some work. She’d just hit send on an email when approaching footsteps and the creaking of floorboards made her look up at the doorway of her office. She never bothered closing the door, unless she was in a meeting or on a confidential telephone call. She grinned broadly and jumped to her feet when Thomas came into sight, but her smile faded when she realised he was carrying a vase of flowers.

  She stepped around her desk and waited for him to put the flowers down. He placed them on a clear spot of her desk, then opened his arms. She immediately hurried into them and they hugged tightly.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” he said against her ear, his stubble abrading her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  She squeezed him even more tightly and said, “I’ve missed you, too,” surprised when she realised her voice sounded choked.

  Thomas noticed it, too. He put his hands on her upper arms and held her away from him so he could look at her face. “Hey,” he said, his blue eyes wide with concern, “what’s up? What’s the matter? Your texts said you were fine, that you were having a good time in London. Did someone upset you? Elias? Alex? Your friends?”

  Mia stepped back, shaking her head and clutching her hand to her chest. “No, no, nobody upset me. I promise,” she added as she took in his disbelieving expression. “Like I said, I missed you. I didn’t realise quite how much until I saw you again. Sorry, must be getting all emotional in my old age.”

  Thomas narrowed his eyes, as though assessing whether she was telling him the truth or not. Then his gaze dropped from her face to her breasts, and his eyes suddenly grew so round he looked almost comical.

  About to chastise him for staring at her boobs while they were in the middle of a serious conversation, she realised with a painful lurch of her heart what he was actually looking at. The hand she was holding to her chest was her left one; adorned, as it had been since Saturday evening, with the beautiful gold and ruby engagement ring.

  “Fucking hell,” Thomas said, raking a hand through his hair and letting out a heavy breath. “He’s done it, then.” He frowned, then met her eyes. “With Alex there? That’s a bit bloody weird, isn’t it? Even for,” he waved a hand between them, then vaguely off to one side, “us.”

  Mia shook her head. “No, Alex wasn’t there. Come on,” she nodded towards the leather sofa to one side of the room, “let’s sit down. I’ll fill you in.”

  “Fucking hell,” he said again once she’d recounted the events of the weekend. “It’s all happening, isn’t it?” He shook his head incredulously. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased you’re one step closer to making this place officially yours, but I’m a bit pissed off that Elias and Alex don’t know about me yet. I understand why you haven’t said anything, though,” he added quickly, before she could protest. “But now your engagement is official, I really think you need to enlighten the two of them as soon as possible. The longer you leave it, the worse it will be.”

  “Yeah,” she replied resignedly, “you don’t have to tell me. Trust me, I bloody know. I’ll figure something out. Soon. I promise. Anyway, who are the flowers from? Not someone who only just found out about Dad?” She knew they weren’t from Thomas—he knew better than to buy her cut flowers, since he was well aware she preferred them to be out in the garden, thriving, not stuck in a vase to wither and die.

  Thomas shrugged. “Haven’t got a clue. They came yesterday lunchtime via Interflora—it’s a good job the gate intercom buzzes through to the cottage, otherwise the delivery guy wouldn’t have got an answer. I dunno whether he’d have taken them away again, or left them at the gate. Didn’t even know they delivered on Sundays. But I took them to the cottage and made sure they were fed and watered for you.”

  She got up and walked over to the desk, taking in the overlarge display of gorgeous blooms. They had to have cost a fortune. “Thank you. If they’re being paid enough money, I’m sure they will deliver whenever the customer wants them to.”

  “Ah,” Thomas replied, obviously having come to the same conclusion as Mia as to who might have sent them. “I guess so. But why would he send them yesterday, when he knew you were still in London? Why not wait until you were home?”

  “Maybe he forgot I was meeting the girls, and thought I was coming straight home,” she said with a shrug, but even as the words came from her mouth she knew they didn’t ring true. She’d had to dash out of his apartment much earlier than either of them would have liked so she could go back across town to get showered and put on clean clothes before heading out again to meet her friends. They’d agreed that next time there was a chance she’d be staying over at his place, she’d bring an overnight bag.

  She searched for the envelope and found it tucked in amongst a spray of gypsophila. After carefully liberating it from its flowery prison, she opened it and slid out the card.

  Mia,

  I can’t apologise enough for breaking our date—duty called (are you sure it’s not too late for me to jack it all in?). I’m devastated I let you down and that I didn’t get to see you. I hope Elias showed you a good time, and that these flowers go some way to making it up to you, as well as expressing how deeply sorry I am.

  Call me soon, please. I miss you.

  Alex xxx

  “Oh,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

  “You sound surprised,” Thomas commented, making her jump. He’d moved from his position on the sofa and stepped up beside her. She’d been so intent on the flowers that she hadn’t heard or seen him get up.

  She handed him the card. “They’re from Alex.”

  “You sure you want me to read this?”

  “Of course. Why not? I’ve got no secrets from you. And when all this is straightened out, I don’t want there to be secrets between any of us.”

  “Fair enough.” He fell silent as he read the card, then handed it back to her with a snort.

  “What?” she asked, slipping the card back into the envelope before putting it on the desk, not wanting prying eyes to see the note, “what’s funny? He got called into work—he’s a surgeon, for heaven’s sake! I think saving lives is vastly more important than going on a date, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Thomas protested. “I didn’t mean that. Someone in his line of work has to put it before everything else. It’s literally life or death. It’s just, well…” A smirk flitted about his mouth, but didn’t fully manifest, as though he was trying to quell it. “He obviously doesn’t know you very well if he thinks a bunch of bloody flowers is going to go any way to making it up to you. You don’t even like cut flowers!”

  Mia batted at his arm and shot him a scathing look. “Don’t be so childish. He doesn’t know me very well. I don’t know him very well, either. Same goes for Elias—though having spent another evening with him, I know him better than I did. There’s no need for one-upmanship here, Tom. You’ve known me the longest, you know me the best. Nobody is disputing that. But if all this is going to work out long term, you’ve got to realise there’s no room for competition between you three. All that’s going to do is cause grief and headaches. Now, I’m not saying it’s going to be plain sailing, especially not in the beginning, but we’ve all got to work together to find a way to be that suits us all. And that means getting along.” She paused. “Or at least trying to.”

  She sighed and dropped her gaze to
the floor, an unpleasant feeling seeping into her gut. “You’re not…” With a struggle, she lifted her head and met his eyes. “You’re not changing your mind about all this, are you? I know it’s unconventional and, quite frankly, utterly bonkers, but I’d never have let things get this far if I didn’t think you were okay with it. And you were. You encouraged me! I don’t know what I’ll do if you back out now, Tom. I don’t want to do this without you. I need you… I love you.” She knew she sounded clingy, but her thoughts were pouring from her head and out of her mouth with no filter in between. And sometimes, that was exactly what should happen. Holding back had no place in a scenario like theirs.

  “Hey,” he said, reaching out and pulling her into his arms.

  She buried her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his broad back, gratified to discover that his heart was pounding just as rapidly as hers. “Shh…” He pressed a kiss to her hair and rubbed her back. “It’s all right, don’t get upset. Of course I’m not changing my mind. I told you before, I’m in this for the long haul, and I meant it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I love you, too, you daft bugger. And I missed you when you weren’t here. I’m really glad you’re home.”

  He cupped her face and forced her to look up and meet his eyes, which glinted with emotion. She gulped hard, then let out a heavy sigh of relief, her mood lifting again. God, it’s like being on a bloody emotional rollercoaster. “Well, thank fuck for that! Now…” She grinned. “Why don’t you show me just how much you’ve missed me? Kiss me.”

  Thomas’s lips were on hers almost before she’d finished speaking, and she smiled against his mouth for a moment longer, before looping her arms around his neck and returning his kiss with relish. Gradually, everything else faded away—her upset, her stress, the rest of the world and the people that inhabited it… it was just her and Thomas, wrapped up in each other, physically and emotionally, and it was amazing.