Page 93 of An American in London

My heart inches higher in my chest. “I miss you.”

“Same.”

“After today you get to have me forever, so there’s that.”

I can hear his smile at the end of the line. I get these calls every day. He doesn’t call to say anything in particular, just to hear my voice. Just to connect. These little moments have become the best parts of my day. The way he can’t go more than a few hours before checking in is one of my favorite things about him. That and his nice ass.

“The duke gave me some written directions to our honeymoon destination.”

“Google Maps doesn’t work?” I ask.

“Apparently not. The route is through private land.”

Scotland might not be the first choice of honeymoon for a lot of married couples, but when the duke and duchess offered their place there for our use, Ben and I were thrilled. I can’t think of anything better than being in the middle of nowhere with Ben, wrapped up in a tartan blanket in front of a roaring fire, which is what I’m told we’ll have to do to keep warm in August in Scotland.

“And the duchess sends her love,” he adds.

If it hadn’t been for the duke and duchess, Ben and I wouldn’t be about to get married. We’ve got a lot to thank them for. The duchess thinks our love story should be turned into a movie. I’m not sure the silver screen could capture how magical it is, being with Ben. And who would play him? Anyone, including Daniel de Luca, would seem like a poor second next to my soon-to-be husband.

“I can’t wait to see everyone as I walk down the aisle,” I reply. “I’m excited.”

“Before you do, I’m going to get some photographs with Dad. And Mum.”

“Maybe do one at the Churchill desk.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I think that would be ...”

“The full-circle moment you’ve been working your entire life for?”

He chuckles and I can picture his dimple coming to life. “Something like that.”

Ben’s father is on a new drug trial for his early-onset dementia. Ben found the best doctors in the world, and for now, his father’s symptoms have stabilized. It means that Ben got to experience telling his dad he’d bought The Fairfield Hotel. He got to bring his parents back, not as employees, but as VIPs. Ben never said anything, but I knew it felt good to him, like he’d waited a lifetime to do it. Suggesting we hold the wedding at The Fairfield was like giving voice to a foregone conclusion.I imagine the staff were slightly less enthusiastic about hosting the wedding of their new boss. The hotel is beautiful and the perfect location for the start of our lives together.

Along with Ginny, I invited some of my friends from New York. Obviously, Melanie’s here. Ginger and Callie as well. But the others couldn’t make it, and I don’t think we’ll stay in touch. There’s no animosity, just the gentle dissolution of relationships that stopped being meaningful. My mom used to say people are in our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I didn’t know it at the time, but a lot of my New York friends have turned out to be seasonal. Jed was definitely in my life for a reason, and although it wasn’t nice being cheated on, splitting up was definitely the right thing for us both. And not just because I met the love of my life just after.

Ben, on the other hand, will be in my life for the entirety of it. My best friend, my lover, my husband.

“You’re done,” Meera says. “Are you happy?” She nods toward the mirror.

“Couldn’t be happier,” I reply and slip off the chair. It’s true, but it’s got nothing to do with what I look like.

My eyes snag on Dad, who’s sitting in the corner, reading a newspaper amid the chaos. I can’t explain why, but I want a few moments with him before I’m married. “I gotta go,” I tell Ben. We swapI love yous, then I hang up and head over to Dad. He stands.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and his eyes go glassy.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“It makes me so happy that you’re ... happy. Not just happy, but with someone like Ben,” he says. “He’s a good man. I always worried with ... the other one.” Dad won’t say Jed’s name since he heard about Fifi. “I worried it was too much of a compromise. I blame myself for that.”

“Blame yourself? Why would my boyfriend be your fault?”

He pulls in a breath and puts his hands in his pockets. “After your mother died, I was ... a wreck.”

I close my eyes at the memories of him in those early days after Mom died.

“And you did everything not to make yourself a burden,” he continues. “To keep me happy. I knew it at the time, but I had no energy to stop you. I wasn’t the parent you deserved during those times.”

I slip my hand through his arm. “Don’t say that. You did the best you could.”

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