Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(46)

“You can’t?” I’m beginning to sound like a parrot. “But what happened to earlier?”

“It’s your decision, Joe.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, drawing attention to his muscled thighs and the bulge of his groin. I have a fleeting image of the thick, meaty girth of his cock and my mouth goes dry. “I’ve signed the papers, after all. It’s you who still needs to sign.”

I suck in a breath. “Well, I’ll sign them when I get back,” I say defiantly.

“I’m sure you will. You always know your own mind.”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“Joe?” Noah calls.

“In a minute,” I shout and then add quickly, “Sorry. Just one minute.”

“I’m not taking the piss,” Lachlan says. “I respect your mind, Joe.”

I look at the door, thinking about all the people waiting for me and sigh. “I’ll tell them we’re getting divorced.”

“No. Don’t do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can pretend we’re together for the afternoon if it’ll make things easier for you.”

“And what will you get out of it?”

He gives me a lopsided, sad sort of smile. “Why don’t you leave the worrying about my motivations to me. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Something is going on here, and I should be wary. But much as I hate to admit it, I do need him today.

“Well, I’d be very grateful,” I say stiffly.

“I’m sure you will.”

His air of knowing me better than I know myself has always irritated me. “If I don’t want to be married to you, there’s nothing you can do about it,” I flare.

“We’ll see,” he says peacefully.

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, my little love bug.”

“No endearments. No, no, no.”

“It’s like being married to a drill sergeant.” He walks to the door and, ever the gentleman, opens it for me. “But I always did like the unexpected things that happened with you.”

I sweep past him, knowing nothing about this situation bodes well for me. It’s worrying that I suddenly feel more alive than I have in all these lonely months.





Chapter

Eleven





Joe


I come out of the room fully expecting the scenery to have changed to reflect my new circumstances. Maybe a scene of Armageddon with the building in smoking ruins and Frances picking her way over the rubble carrying an Uzi.

Instead, Lou Rawls’ “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine” plays with impeccable timing, candles twinkle on the tables, and the scent of pine from the garlands draped around the doors is heady in the air. I can smell coffee and hear the sound of talk and laughter coming from the bar.

I watch my husband head back towards the bar without a second glance back. Ex-husband I remind myself quickly. Ex. Then I remember my job.

“I will not think about it,” I say out loud, startling a maid. I offer her an apologetic smile and hasten away to the reception room.

The big room is made cosy by the two fireplaces on either end. They glow with roaring fires that emit the scent of apples. Tables have been placed around the room, but not too many, as Erica and Ryan wanted to keep the wedding intimate. They’d appeased the Paymaster General, also known as Frances, by agreeing to a big party for everyone else when they got back from honeymoon.

I check the settings, already knowing they’ll be spotless, as Dougal is a perfectionist. Glasses sparkle and the cutlery twinkles in the light of the candles. I twitch one of the snowy white tablecloths, noting the flower displays with approval. Heather and roses complement the purple tartan wallpaper.

Floor-to-ceiling mullioned windows look down over the gardens to the loch. I look at the huge grey-white clouds with worry and then dismiss the weather as not something I need to think about at the moment. Not when my immediate cause for concern is right here. And that would be DABBA.

At the back of the room by the small dance floor is a small dais and the band are standing on it. They’re huddled together, their voices low but agitated.

“Everything okay?” I call, and they abruptly turn towards me.

Darren, Brian, Bridget, and Anna are carbon copies of the original band. Darren in all his bearded glory is the Benny of the group, leaving Brian to be Bj?rn. Bridget’s red hair gleams like Frida’s, and Anna usually channels Agnetha’s sweet calm. It always bamboozles me to remember that they’re two married couples like the originals. Darren is married to Bridget, while Anna has the honour of wearing Brian’s ring. I’d wondered idly whether that was a condition of joining the group. It’s great that you can sing, but we must request that you enter holy matrimony with one of the band members first.

They’re channelling the seventies today with silver outfits that glitter in the light. Darren is wearing silver trousers and a blousy top that laces over his hairy chest, and Brian has drawn the short straw and is wearing a jumpsuit slashed to the waist. The girls are in short silver dresses with platform boots. Bridget has a sparkly cap on her head, while Anna’s blonde hair cascades down her back tied back by a sparkly scarf. However, they appear to be missing their namesakes’ preternatural Swedish calm, as they all have faces like thunder.