Page 2 of The Winter Laird

Brianagh tiptoed down the hall of the enormous church and peeked in, where Kristen was nearly to the end of the aisle. Justin’s face was alight with wonder, and his eyes were only for his bride. Bri let out a little sigh of happiness for the couple.

Her phone buzzed discreetly, and she fumbled through her purse. Pulling it out, her shoulders dropped at the message.

Dinner tonight at seven. Semi-formal, wear heels. Xoxo

She tamped down an annoyed sigh. Lately, Matthew had been offering her suggestions as to what she ought to wear when they were out in public together.

“I have a reputation to consider,” he’d said, slipping her the business card of a personal shopper at Neiman Marcus. “You know how we’re always being photographed.”

Actually, she didn’t—she only saw photographers at the philanthropic events they attended together—but she’d taken the card. She hadn’t made use of the service yet, though.

Brianagh glanced again into the church, unable to ignore the small pang in her chest when she again caught sight of Justin, unable to remove his eyes from his bride who, even from here, was blushing.

Just once I’d like someone to look at me like that, Brianagh thought. She squared her shoulders and pushed away the thought. She was twenty-nine years old; the time for starry-eyed fairy tales was over. Passion and swept-off-her-feet love didn’t exist for her, and she had made her peace with it.

Almost.

* * *

Brianagh remindedherself that she whole-heartedly believed in happily-ever-afters, despite the sparkling engagement ring at which she was currently gaping.

The night started innocently enough. Matthew surprised her with reservations at Top of the Hub, one of Boston’s most impressive restaurants because of its unparalleled, 360-degree views of the city’s skyline.

Matthew excelled at saying romantic things, so when he claimed that he wanted nothing more than to watch the sunset together from their sky-high vantage point, she didn’t blink.

When he turned his phone off, Brianagh felt a prickle of nervousness descend upon her spine.

When he kept it off for longer than it took to restart it, she began to feel faint. And not in the way her clients claimed to feel when their significant others were near.

Glancing again at the obscenely large diamond in front of her, Bri swallowed hard. Apparently, he had more than just the sunset on his mind.

“Say yes,” Matthew murmured from his knee in the middle of the very crowded, uncomfortably silent restaurant. “Make me the happiest man alive, Bri. Marry me.”

Tapping her fingers on the white tablecloth, she tried to breathe but found that simple task beyond her. She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the harbor; the reflection of Boston’s city skyline, while beautiful, didn’t ease the tightness in her chest. The incoherent thoughts in her head buzzed with the answer he certainly did not want to hear, so she gave him the answer he did.

“Okay,” she managed to say. Not a ringing endorsement of said happily-ever-after, but Matthew’s eyes lit up as if she had declared her undying love.

Maybe she had; she didn’t know. She was in uncharted territory, no one had ever proposed to her. He gently slid the diamond onto her finger as the entire restaurant erupted into cheers.

She thought she might be sick and wondered briefly if this was a normal response.

She didn’t think so.

He kissed her, and Bri fervently hoped he didn’t notice her lack of enthusiasm. When his mouth opened, she wished that, just once, she could feel the surge of desire she’d heard about. She read enough romance novels and listened to her clients wax lyrical after a particularly successful date. But logically she knew, and Matthew knew, that lust simply wasn’t for them.

“I’m so happy,” Matthew said, pulling back suddenly and signaling for the check.

She blinked, feeling as though that kiss was more of a handshake to seal the deal. And, as she usually did, she began to rationalize her feelings. Intellectually, she knew she and Matthew worked well as a couple. She had relationships down to a science. She knew the formulas behind the hows and whys of happily-ever-afters. On paper, she and Matthew were a perfect fit.

Spark was a fleeting thing, in her opinion. Bri believed companionship, common backgrounds, and intellect kept a relationship stronger than a spark, but her coworkers argued that it took more than a formula laid out in a database. They claimed that for some, the spark was the deciding factor.

Somehow, she’d never really gotten to the point of a deciding factor when it came to Matthew.

Probably a moot point now, she thought as he led her out of the restaurant. Matthew called for his driver, and he gave a quick nod to a passing acquaintance as he herded her into the car.

“You did very well,” he said as he powered on his phone. He handed her a glass of champagne. “I wasn’t sure how you would react when I put you on the spot like that… But what I did know, from our very first date, was that you’d be my wife.”

Bri tossed back the drink as the driver pulled away from the curb. She stared at her empty flute, saying nothing for a long moment.

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