Page 158 of The Bad Wedding Date

“She has a name.”

“Right, Sylvia.”

“Sylvie,” I corrected.

“Sylvie.” She smiled, trying to hide the embarrassment of her error.

Jonah had taken a long time to come clean about his romance with his new lady after secretly dating her for eighteen months, which had something to do with her not exactly being as single as he’d thought when they first got together—something Charlotte didn’t quite know how to feel about. But after much encouragement from me and several gentle reminders of how unconventional and immoral our relationship had been at the start, she’d agreed to keep her mouth shut and support her best friend. After all, he’d been nothing but supportive of the two of us since we became an official item. I had to admire the guy for that. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I wasn’t sure I could have been as understanding.

I guess Jonah only had to see Charlotte and me together to know how I would never let anyone ever hurt her again.

Reaching up, I brushed the stray strands of hair away from Charlotte’s face before I cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer to me.

“You wanna move in together today? I’ve just bought this nice house by the sea, not far out of London, where you can spend your evenings out on the porch with a glass of wine and one of your favourite duke books while I massage your shoulders and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

“Sounds like Heaven,” she whispered. “But it’s quite a coincidence becauseI’vejust bought this nice house by the sea, too. It has this big old garage that you could convert into a gym to teach your self-defence classes if you ever wanted to expand outside of London. You could get nice and sweaty, doing your good deeds, then come home to me, and we can bathe together in this big ol’ tub where I can rub your wounded pride back to recovery after a bunch of women have beaten you up.”

“Thatisa coincidence.” I grinned.

“Truly.” She beamed.

I stared into her eyes, hardly able to contain the swell of pure happiness that erupted in my chest. I loved this woman with everything I had. There wasn’t a part of her I didn’t like or wanted to change. There never would be. I’d love her through all the stages of her life, no matter how much she needed to change along the way that turned her into the version of the person she needed to be for herself.

I had to do it now.

I couldn’t wait to get to the new house.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes, Fraser.”

“Marry me.”

I held my breath, waiting what felt like a lifetime before I saw the tears form in her eyes as her smile grew impossibly wider.

“Marry me, and I’ll spend every day of our lives together making you smile like you’re smiling right now.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

CHARLOTTE

ANOTHER YEAR LATER

We got married on an autumnal day with only our close family and friends around us.

Fraser wore black tie, while I wore a white off-the-shoulder gown that hugged my curves, the way he liked my clothes to fit. It wasn’t nearly as extravagant as my sister’s dress had been, but I hadn’t felt the need for it. It hid the tattoo under my right breast, the word ‘baby’ forever etched on my skin in a twist of events I could never had imagined happening. That one word I used to hate now held so much warmth and meaning for me.

The main thing about my entire outfit, however, was that I hadn’t had to borrow a single piece of it from anyone at work, and I didn’t feel in the slightest bit awkward when I walked down the small aisle towards the man of my dreams, unable to believe his smile was all for me.

Everything fit. The dress. The shoes. Our lives. Our hearts. Our love.

My father gave me away, beaming with a look of pure pride I couldn’t remember seeing before that moment when he shook Fraser’s hand and passed mine over with a nod of approval.

Mum sat in the front row, wearing a beautiful cream understated dress, just like I’d asked her to. Her smile touched her eyes, and when Dad took his seat beside her, they shared a gentle kiss that made me realise that everything I’d ever thought about their love had been wrong.

It may not have been the kind of love I wanted for myself, but everyone’s idea of perfect was different.

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