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  “It’s just a placeholder, darling, until we can buy you a proper ring.”

  “So it was your dad’s?”

  “It was. My mum couldn’t bear to let it go when he died. She gave it to me to wear when I got married.”

  My stomach sank, thinking about eight-year-old Chris losing his dad to a heart attack. It still haunted him and was a big part of why he was desperate to have a child. That wasn’t the only thing that dulled the shine of the moment.

  “You wore this when you were married to Elise?”

  “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “You never wore a wedding band when you were married?”

  “I did. Just not this one. I bought something. Something generic and expensive.”

  “Huh.”

  “It never felt right. I can’t really explain it any more than that.” He took my hand and twirled the ring on my finger. “Perhaps some part of me knew I was waiting for you.”

  Goosebumps crept along my arms. “You always find the perfect thing to say.”

  “That’s why you love me.”

  “That’s part of it.” I kissed him on the cheek. “We should probably head downstairs before my dad has a heart attack about the fact that you’re making him wait.”

  One of Chris’s looks crossed his face. “What in the world am I doing?”

  I cocked my head. “Flirting with disaster if you put my dad off his schedule.”

  “I asked you to marry me, there’s no time for proper post-proposal sex, and I’m letting you get on a plane to New York with a man’s wedding band that’s three sizes too big.” He plucked his jeans from the floor. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Today? Now?”

  “Yes.” He finished the button-fly on his jeans, an act that made me inexplicably hot and bothered. “You and I are going to Tiffany’s to buy you a ring.”

  “Really?” I rattled the Tiffany bracelet around my wrist, the one he’d given me soon after we’d started our romance.

  “Yeah, of course.” He wrestled on his favorite gray t-shirt. “Let’s go tell your dad and Sam.”

  Hand in hand, we traipsed down the hall. The sound of Sam and my dad chattering away became clearer as we reached the top of the stairs and started down. No wonder my dad hadn’t noticed Chris had put him behind. He could get lost in conversation with his beloved granddaughter for hours.

  “Morning,” Chris quipped, patting Samantha’s shoulder. “What are you lot up to?”

  “Breakfast,” Sam answered. “Sorry, but we’re out of bacon.”

  “Bloody hell. A bacon famine.”

  My dad tapped his watch. “Geez, Louise, Chris. We’re going to be late to make that run to the lumber yard before you take Claire to the airport.”

  Chris looked at me conspiratorially. “About that. Claire and I have news.” With a wag of his fingers, he beckoned me, although I was drawn to him anyway, so the gesture was superfluous.

  I took his hand and looked at Sam. The questions on her face caused a lump in my throat. It had been the two of us for her entire life, seventeen years. Now everything was about to change—a good change, a happy change, but change nonetheless.

  “News?” Dad asked.

  I couldn’t tear my sights from Sam. She knows. I know she knows. Her lip jutted out and I saw her as a three year-old, running around this very kitchen in footy pajamas, giggling, me in hot pursuit and laughing just as hard.

  “Chris and I are getting married.”

  The waterworks came for both Sam and I at the same time.

  Her cheeks pinked. “Oh my God. You guys.” She smiled through tears, swiping them away. “You’re getting married?”

  I threw my arms around her, holding her tight, rocking her back and forth. “You’re happy?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for Chris to get off his butt and ask you.”

  “Off my butt?” There was a hand on my back and I knew immediately that it was Chris. “Listen you two, can I get in on the group hug?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he pulled Sam and I snug against his chest.

  My dad cleared his throat loudly across the room.

  “Dad.” I freed my head from Chris’s embrace. “You haven’t said anything.”

  He stood up from the kitchen table with something he rarely showed the world—unguarded happiness. “Ladybug, the only thing that would make this news any better would be if your mom was here to witness it.”

  Just when I’d managed to stop crying after hugging Sam, my dad had to pry it back out of me. “I know.” I nodded, easing closer to him, watching him fight the tears that he never, ever, allowed himself to shed, at least not in front of anyone. “But I think she’s here. In spirit.”

  I actually felt her there, could hear her telling me that she was happy and how I shouldn’t pick out a wedding dress that made me look like a lemon meringue pie. To this day, my dad didn’t know that my mom and I carried on a conversation in my head. No one knew.

  He took my hand. “I’m as happy as a fly at a picnic. And I’m pleased that you and Chris finally got some sense and realized this was the only way to do it.”

  “Do what, exactly?” Chris asked.

  “Well, life, of course. I don’t know what you two were thinking when you decided you’d have a baby before you got married.”

  * * *

  I buckled the dark blue seat belt across my lap. “I can’t believe you spent two grand on a plane ticket so you could take me shopping for an engagement ring.”

  Chris patted my hand, flipping through the in-flight magazine. “It was for more than that. Don’t forget the hotel sex.”

  The flight attendant had impeccable timing, arriving in time for “hotel sex”. “Anything to drink before we take off?” she asked, screwing up her lips while she waited for an answer.

  “Just water.” I stifled a giggle.

  “Perfect,” Chris added, layering his British accent with extra sexiness.

  “How do you manage to do that and not get the slightest bit embarrassed?”

  He snickered. “Years of sticking my foot in my mouth. I’m a professional.”

  I shook my head. “You’re a professional all right. A professional goof.”

  “And very soon, my darling, you will be Mrs. Goof.”

  Mrs. Goof. I smiled so hard that my cheeks hurt again. There’s something really fun about being a giddy twit. “I can’t wait for that.”

  The flight attendant brought miniature bottles of water. After a short delay, we were airborne.

  I turned Chris’s dad’s ring on my finger. I’d wrapped some bandage tape around one part of it to keep it from falling off, but it was still loose. “I was wondering, what did you do with your ring when you got divorced?”

  “I went to the house in St. Barts and threw it in the ocean.”

  “Never to be seen again?”

  “That was the idea. It seemed like a fitting end to that chapter of my life.”

  I pictured Chris on a pristine white sand beach near his villa in St. Barts, possibly the beach at Colombier, which can only be reached on foot or by boat. With his long arms and a motion much like the one you make skipping a rock, I could see him flinging that ring into the waves. When his marriage to Elise had finally ended, he was as eager to rid himself of all evidence of the hell she’d put him through—her drug addiction, infidelity, and unwillingness to have a child with him. The loss of the pregnancy that came from their marriage had been the worst of it. There was no coming back from that.

  Chris took my hand, rubbing the tips of my fingers in tiny circles with his thumb. He’d done it hundreds of times, but something about it always felt so reassuring, like an inside joke, something we didn’t need to talk about.

  “Did you ever come close to getting married?” he asked. “Was there a guy who you thought you would end up with? I mean, before me, of course.” He focused on our joined hands, not making eye contact.

  Chris’s love life,
his checkered romantic past, was common knowledge to anyone who’d read any 80s teen-idol magazine or grocery store tabloid. My history in that department was likewise rarely discussed. I didn’t like to think about him with other women and he’d proven more than once that he had a jealous streak that was sometimes difficult to control.

  “If you’re wondering if anyone ever asked me, then no. I was never engaged.” I cleared my throat, bracing to bring up the ex-boyfriend of mine that Chris abhorred. “I thought Kevin might ask me, but that never happened.”

  His eyes were quickly drawn to mine, the green that always stole at least a little of my breath. “Kevin? Tosser Kevin? Would you have said yes if he’d asked?”

  A rush of air escaped my lips. As much as I’d been stubborn when it came to men, it had never occurred to me that saying “no” to a marriage proposal was an option. “I don’t know what I would’ve said. I was in love with him at one point. At least I thought I was.”

  His eyes narrowed, his endlessly expressive eyebrows drew together. “In love. With Kevin.”

  “I said I thought I was. It’s not like it is with you. Not even close. But at the time, it felt more real than any other relationship I’d ever been in.”

  “So you would have said yes.” His eyes held a rare sadness.

  “I don’t know why it matters. He didn’t ask me, and now I wish that he’d move to Borneo or at least lose my phone number.” I dropped my head, wanting eye contact. “Chris, honey, don’t let this bother you. It’s ancient history and nothing ever came of it. Really.”

  He smiled and squeezed my hand harder. “I know. I just, well…” His lips seemed to struggle for the words. “I think about fate, about the circumstances that brought us together. I still haven’t completely gotten past the idea that I could’ve lost you a few months ago and it would’ve been my fault. Hell, I could’ve lost you to Kevin and not even known it. I would’ve just been left feeling empty, without a clue how to fix it.”

  “But that didn’t happen. We’re together. Forever. I’m going to be Mrs. Goof soon.”

  He grinned and leaned over for a kiss, a soft and tender meeting of our lips that made my knees feel like jelly. “I love you Mrs. Goof. I really, really love you.”

  I leaned on the armrest and snuggled closer to him. The only downside of being in First Class was the massive console between the seats, an obstacle good for nothing more than drawing my ire. Still, things weren’t going to get much better than this—cozied up with my dream man, my prince, on my way to New York to interview Amanda Carlton, the sort of assignment I’d long dreamt of.

  Ms. Carlton was more than one of the most beautiful women in the world; she was the Hollywood starlet who could demand any salary, director, and leading man. She’d left for Hollywood at seventeen and waitressed until her big break, which, as luck would have it, came for her after only four months. Surely aided by her beauty, she caught the eye of an executive producer and landed a supporting role in the action film franchise “Fightin’ Army V: The Battle for Planet Earth”, the highest grossing installment.

  My personal stakes with the Amanda interview were high. Sure, the Rolling Stone article I’d written about Chris had landed me other high profile assignments, but now that our relationship was public knowledge, I needed to prove to every skeptical editor than my journalistic chops were real.

  “You okay?” Chris asked.

  I nodded, looking up at him and catching a glimpse of his stunning green eyes. “Yep. Just thinking about the interview.”

  “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll do great.”

  Chapter Three

  Strolling through the lobby of the Hotel Rivington on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, hand in hand, it was impossible not to think about the last time Claire and I had been here together, more than six months ago. How time changes everything.

  “Reservation for Penman,” I said to the chubby chap at the registration desk. Claire sniggered. “I called and changed the reservation that was originally under the name Abby.”

  The bloke began tapping away at his keyboard.

  “What’s so bloody funny, darling?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head and smiled, lips pressed together. “There’s just something really, really awesome about checking into a hotel with you.”

  “Ah, yes, Mr. Penman. That particular suite won’t be ready for a few more hours. The bell staff will gladly stow your bags and bring them up this afternoon.”

  I leaned against the front desk. “Well? Shall I have Lou take you to your interview and then I’ll get on with my errands?”

  “What are you doing today, anyway?”

  I took her hand and stepped away from the prying ears of the man at the front desk. “I’m going to visit a studio or two, chat up a few guys about gear and layout. Try to learn from their mistakes if I can. I’m actually going to Avatar Studios, which used to be the Power Station. That’ll be fun. Haven’t been there in years.”

  “Wow. Cool.” She glanced at her watch, crinkled her forehead. “Sounds good.”

  The nervousness was plain on her face. Even her hand was a bit clammy. She’d been in virtually the same state the day we met, wound as tight as a spring. Even now, it was adorable. Every moment of unguarded vulnerability was endearing. “Just so you know, you’ll do great today.”

  We walked back outside to the town car. “Lou, we’re going to drop Claire at the Four Seasons and then on to Avatar.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Penman. No problem,” he said, in his distinct Brooklyn accent. He pulled away from the curb and into traffic. “You have dinner plans this evening I should be aware of?”

  “Uh, no. I think we’re staying in tonight, Lou. Claire and I have some celebrating to do.” Hours and hours of naked celebration.

  Claire smacked my leg. “I thought we were keeping this quiet,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Oh, yeah, Mr. Penman? What’s that?”

  “It’s fine,” I whispered to Claire. “Believe it or not, Ms. Abby has agreed to marry me.”

  He looked at me through the rear-view mirror, his face lighting up. “Congratulations. Really. That’s wonderful.” He shook his head. “And just think, I drove you two the day you met. I feel honored. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

  Claire’s cheeks flushed with pink.

  “That’s just between us for right now, Lou. We want to keep things out of the papers for as long as possible.”

  “Of course, Mr. Penman. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “See?” I said to her. “I’m going to call Graham today, too. I can’t wait to tell him.”

  “Make sure you send him and Angie my best.”

  “I will. Are you going to call Julie today?” I’d never even met Claire’s sister. That would surely come to pass this year, as well as Claire meeting my mum and sisters. The importance of family was absent when I was married to Elise. She never spoke to her parents, wanted nothing to do with mine. Looking back, it was difficult to imagine how I’d ever thought Elise was right for me.

  Claire nodded. “Yes. If I have time. Otherwise, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  Lou pulled up to the curb. “The Four Seasons.”

  She took a deep breath. “Just when I thought there was time, we’re here.”

  “Let me walk you in,” I said.

  Amanda Carlton and her entourage were readily apparent when we entered the lobby. Two hulking men stood as a physical barricade, bulging arms folded across beefy chests. Behind them, Amanda and another woman sat in high-backed chairs. Amanda wore oversized sunglasses and was tapping away at her phone, but her trademark wavy brown hair gave her away.

  Claire came to a halt before we reached Amanda’s muscle. “I can do this, right? I can interview anybody, right?”

  I laughed. “You convinced me to spill my guts. Amanda Carlton is a cake walk.”

  She frantically nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”

  A girlish squeal came from the corner
of the room. I turned as Ms. Carlton pushed past her bodyguard, removing her sunglasses.

  “Oh, my God. You’re Christopher Penman.”

  Bloody hell. “Guilty,” I replied, holding out my hand.

  “I’m such a huge fan.” Her eyes grew impossibly larger. “I loved Banks Forest when I was in high school. My friends and I were all into retro, you know the 80s and stuff like that. Obviously I’m way too young to have been a fan when you guys had your heyday.”

  Obviously way too young. “Lovely. Thank you.” I felt Claire’s presence at my elbow. “You need to meet my fiancée, Claire Abby. That’s why I’m here. She’s interviewing you today.”

  Claire’s face had gone pale. Not only had the moment she’d worried about become all about me, I’d said the f-word—fiancée. So much for secrets. “Amanda. Hi. It’s great to meet you.” She remained calm and collected, but I could tell that beneath the surface was a rattled Claire.

  Amanda’s eyes darted back and forth. “Oh, my God. That is so weird. Well, this must be meant to be or something.”

  Amanda’s companion, a smart-looking woman in a suit jacket and skirt, teetering on sky-high heels, broke through the wall of bodyguards. “Hello. I’m Valerie Stanwick. I’m Ms. Carlton’s publicist.” She zeroed in on Claire and I’d never been so thankful to have someone Type-A and on the clock take over. “You must be Ms. Abby. It’s nice to meet you.” She turned to me, but Amanda started chattering again.

  “Val, do you have any idea who this is? It’s Christopher Freaking Penman, from Banks Forest. Can you believe it? I loved him when I was in high school and now I get to meet him because he’s engaged to the woman who’s interviewing me. How weird is that?”

  I held back a powerful groan. The woman who’s interviewing me? Did she really have to put it that way? Luckily, Valerie seemed non-plussed by the idea of meeting me. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Penman.” She turned to Amanda, who was still staring at me. There was a time when I would’ve found such behavior enchanting, but in this situation, it grated. “Amanda, we should get you settled with Ms. Abby. We want to make sure you two have as much time as possible.”