35. Ashley

35

ASHLEY

“Holy hot tamale!” Nadia whistled as I walked out of the bathroom.

“Do I look okay?” I spun around in a three-sixty.

“No,” Nadia stated flatly with a deadpan expression. “You do not look okay. You look fucking unbelievable. You look like a million dollars.”

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognized the woman I saw. The dress I wore was a black, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that molded to my curves. There was a slit that ran up my thigh nearly to my hip, yet somehow was still classy. I was wearing a black Jimmy Choo stiletto heel with a diamond ankle strap. Both were compliments of my husband.

Butterflies began racing in circles low in my belly like they were racing around in the Grand Prix as I ran my hands down my torso. “Thanks for doing my hair.”

“Of course, honey bunny.”

Nadia volunteered to come over to help me get ready. Declan had offered to get my hair and makeup done at the same place I’d gone before my audition for Married by a Matchmaker , but I’d declined.

Tonight was the company Christmas party. If I agreed to get ready at the hotel, then the assumption would be that I would be spending the night at the hotel. If that were the case, it would be assumed that I would be spending the night in Atlanta, which could not happen.

Walking away from this marriage was going to be hard enough without spending another night with Declan. Since spending Thanksgiving with him, I’d been weaning myself off our nightly calls and only replying to about fifty percent of the text messages he sent.

It was crucial that I emotionally detach myself from this marriage. The closer it got to the Christmas deadline, the more I found myself making the argument that a loveless marriage wouldn’t be so bad. I was actually talking myself into believing that a marriage where my husband traveled half the year would actually be a good thing because we wouldn’t get sick of one another. And maybe it would be okay for a few years, but long term, once we had kids, there was no way that I would be happy with that arrangement.

So, no, I could not stay in Atlanta. Because if I did, I’m sure I would come up with more evidence in the case for staying married to the honest, hard-working, sexy billionaire who gives me toe-curling orgasms, and my niece adores, that ticks every box, and is a walking green flag minus the huge tiny problem that he doesn’t love me, and I wasn’t even sure is capable of love, not in the capacity I needed to be loved.

Which was why another sleepover would not be in my best interest. No matter how tempting it was. And, oh boy, was it tempting.

All I had to do was stay strong tonight. I grabbed my clutch and made sure I had my wallet, phone, keys, lipstick, and mascara for touchups. That was all I needed. Nothing else, because I would be coming home tonight. Then I picked up my bottle of Dior perfume. It was the fanciest, aka priciest, fragrance I owned, and I only wore it on special occasions. I sprayed three spritzes in front of me and then walked into the mist.

After I did, I cleared my throat, grabbed my Stanley mug from the nightstand, and sipped.

“How are you feeling?” Nadia asked.

“Better.”

Thanks to lack of sleep from tossing and turning in sexual frustration, I’d come down with a case of bronchitis last week. Or maybe it was just a bug that Luna had brought home from school. Or it could have been the lack of sleep I’d had from the Thanksgiving prep. In any case, I’d thought about using that as an excuse not to go to the party, but after a round of antibiotics, I was feeling better.

When Declan discovered I was under the weather, within the hour, half a pharmacy showed up on my doorstep. That was not hyperbole or exaggeration. Anything and everything one could possibly need for a cold or flu was on my porch. There was Vicks VapoRub, a variety of nasal sprays, cough drops, teas, diffusers, over-the-counter cold and flu medication, holistic remedies, and, after a telehealth call with Declan’s primary care physician, antibiotics. Dorothy and Fred had also dropped off her famous chicken soup, which had really hit the spot. And he’d also had immunity shots and smoothies delivered from the juicery that had just opened in the downtown arts district.

It was the first time in my life that anyone other than Skylar had taken care of me. When I got sick while I was with Garrett, he was always scared of catching it, so he stayed away. He went to prom without me junior year because I had a stomach bug. I told myself not to get used to this sort of treatment, but it was definitely something the little voice in my head was using in the pro column for reasons to stay in this loveless marriage.

“So he’s actually flying you to the party?” Nadia licked her hand, then smoothed a flyaway hair down from the top of my head.

“Yep.”

“You’re living out a real-life Fifty Shades, Pretty Woman moment.”

The comparison to the films had not escaped me. In Fifty Shades , Christian Grey is a pilot like Declan, and he takes Anastasia on a helicopter flight to see Seattle. In Pretty Woman , Richard Gere’s character hires a private plane and takes Julia Roberts's character to San Francisco to the opera for the night, but it’s the same idea.

“And he’s bringing you back tonight?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side.

“Yep.” I nodded. “I promised Skylar that I’d watch the munchkins so she and Hank can go Christmas shopping.”

“I can watch them if you want to stay and?—”

“No,” I quickly cut her off. I’d purposefully made plans for the following day so I wouldn’t give in to any temptation. “It’s fine. I don’t want to?—”

A loud knock on the front door interrupted my explanation.

My heart jumped into my throat. It had been three weeks since I’d seen Declan, and this would most likely be the final time I saw him before we signed the papers for the dissolution of our marriage.

The plan had originally been for him to go to Harlan and Daphne’s wedding with me, but I’d decided to let him off the hook for that event. Or at least that was how I was framing it to him. In truth, it was more of a self-protection move on my part. The less exposure to the man, the better.

“He’s here!” Nadia clapped her hands together.

I took a deep breath and placed my hands on my stomach, trying to calm the butterflies that were throwing a full-on rave. Nadia and I walked down the steps together. When we reached the bottom, my knees were shaking. The last time I’d seen Declan had been a surprise when he came to Thanksgiving. I opened the door, and he was standing there. This time was different. This time, I’d had weeks to run through a thousand different scenarios about how tonight could go.

Would we dance? What would we talk about? How would he act around other people with me? Would he kiss me again?

The last time he’d seen me, he’d kissed me goodbye. It wasn’t for anyone’s benefit. No one had been watching us. Would that happen again? Should it happen again?

I knew that I would be reading into every single second of this night. I’d play it over and over in my head. I would take it apart for forensic inspection. The innocent or not-so-innocent touches. The looks. The words we spoke and the words we didn’t.

My problem was that none of that actually mattered because none of it was real or sincere. I needed to remember that. No matter how much my heart, hormones, and even head were trying to convince me otherwise, the reality was we were only married because he needed a wife to save his company.

Nadia walked to open the door while I grabbed my coat.

“Hello!” She waved her hand in a half circle at the handsome specimen of a man who I happened to be married to, standing on the porch looking like he’d just walked off a Giorgio Armani runway.

Declan grinned. “Hello.”

I walked to the door and felt those butterflies that had been raving now begin to swarm like angry bees around a hive. A lump of nerves formed in my throat. I forced myself to smile. “Hi.”

“You got the dress.”

“I did,” I breathed.

“You look—” His eyes traveled up and down my body. I could feel their path like a physical touch. “—wow.”

My cheeks warmed as they flushed. “You look nice, too.”

He looked a lot better than nice. He wore a suit that looked as if it had been tailored just to fit him, which it more than likely had. It skimmed his body without clinging to his broad shoulders, muscular chest, and tapered waist. His crisp white shirt, charcoal tie, and pocket square were the finishing touches that exuded style and class.

He held out his arm. “Ready?”

I nodded and stepped out onto the porch. As I passed Nadia, I asked, “Can you lock up?”

She gave me two thumbs-up and a wink.

“Nice to see you again, Nadia.” Declan nodded.

“You, too, D.” Nadia smiled. “You kids, don’t be good. Please do everything I would do!” she called out as we walked down the porch steps.

“I like her.” He smiled as he opened the passenger side door to the SUV.

“Yeah, she’s the best.” My hands were shaking as I put my seatbelt on.

He got into the driver’s side, and we drove back to the estate where the plane was waiting. The silence that hung between us was electrically charged. At least, that’s what I felt.

“I could have just met you at the house.”

“I wanted to pick you up. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” I nodded. “Yeah, really a lot better.”

I knew it was just in my head, but I truly felt like the oxygen in the car was thin. It was difficult to breathe. I wasn’t sure why Declan behind the wheel was such a turn-on. But seeing his hands on the wheel really did something to me. Maybe it was just his hands in general. I remember thinking the same thing when he was at the bar holding the rocks glass. The first painting I’d done after our night together was of him sitting at the bar.

“You look beautiful.” His voice was deep and rough as he glanced over at me.

I felt my cheeks heat with a flush. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Tell me that I don’t have to say what I say.”

“Because we’re not really married, so you don’t have to compliment me.”

“We are really married, and you know I was attracted to you before I even knew your name.”

“That was different.”

“Why was that different?”

“Because…that was just a…you know.”

“No. I don’t know.”

“A one-night stand.”

“So that means that I wasn’t attracted to you,” he stated as if it was clearly the opposite of what he meant.

“No, but for one night anyone can find anyone attractive.”

“Do you know how many one-night stands I’ve had?”

“It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t saying that?—”

“One. I’ve had one one-night stand.”

“Oh.”

“You’re right. It’s not the same. It actually means even more that I would find you attractive without knowing you because that never happens to me. But it did. With you, it did.”

His tone was serious, and I could feel that it clearly bothered him that I didn’t accept his compliments or thought they weren’t sincere.

He glanced over at me and the look in his deep, whiskey stare broke my heart wide open and also caused my core to explode with tingles of arousal. “Can you do me one favor?”

Yes , anything. I wanted to tell Declan I would do anything for him. But what if he asked me to stay married to him, not to get the annulment? What then? Would I still say yes? The thing that scared me the most was I didn’t know the answer to that.

“What?”

“For tonight, just tonight, can we be married? Can you not remind me that this isn’t real and it’s going to end? Can you just be my wife and allow me to be your husband? Just give me this one night. Please. Tonight, will you just be my wife?”

He wasn’t asking for anything I hadn’t already agreed to, really. At the Christmas party, that’s exactly the role I was going to be playing. There was no reason I shouldn’t start now. There was no reason except for the risk I was taking, the risk that every second I spent crossing that line, giving into the temptation of allowing myself the luxury of pretending this was actually my life, was another heartache I was going to have to heal from.

Against my better judgment, screaming at me that I should know better, I took a deep breath, plugged my metaphorical nose, walked to the edge of the high dive, and jumped, saying, “Yes. Tonight, I will be your wife.”