A Groom Worth Waiting For. Sophie Pembroke
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and batted the thought away. Helena probably didn’t remember that part of it. As far as she was concerned Isabella had just made sure they were supplied with any motherly advice they needed. Whether they wanted it or not.
Thea moved over to the dressing table, looking for the necklace Isabella had given her for her eighteenth birthday. The night Zeke had left. She’d wear it tonight, along with her own mother’s ring. Isabella always appreciated gestures like that.
‘And you’ve really not spoken to Zeke at all since he left?’ Helena asked.
Thea wondered how much her sister suspected about her relationship with Flynn’s brother. Too much, it seemed.
‘Not once,’ she said firmly, picking up Isabella’s necklace. ‘Not once in eight years.’
‘Strange.’ Helena slipped off the bed and came up behind her, taking the ends of the chain from her to fasten it behind her neck. ‘Do you think that’s why he’s come back now? Because you’re getting married?’
‘Well, he was invited, so I’m thinking that was probably the reason.’
‘No,’ Helena said, and something about her sister’s quiet, firm voice made Thea look up and meet her eyes in the mirror. ‘I meant because you’re getting married.’
Thea swallowed. ‘He didn’t come and visit the last time I almost got married.’
‘Or the time before that,’ Helena said, cheerfully confirming her view of Thea as a serial fiancée. ‘But then, those times you weren’t marrying his brother.’ The words And you didn’t go through with it... went unsaid.
Thea dropped down onto the dressing table stool. Wouldn’t that be just like Zeke—not to care that she might marry someone else as long as it wasn’t a personal slight to him? But did he even know about the others? If he did, she predicted she’d be subjected to any number of comments and jibes on the subject. Perfect. Because she hadn’t had enough of that at work, or from her friends, or even in the gossip pages.
Only Helena had never said anything about it. Her father had just torn up the pre-nups, asked his secretary to cancel the arrangements, and said, ‘Next time, perhaps?’ After the last one even Thea had had to admit to herself that she was better off sticking to business than romance.
It was just that each time she’d thought she’d found a place she could belong. Someone to belong to. Until it had turned out that she wasn’t what they really wanted after all. She was never quite right—never quite good enough in the end.
Except for Flynn. Flynn knew exactly what he was getting, and why. He’d chosen it, debated it, drawn up a contract detailing exactly what the deal entailed. And that was exactly what Thea needed. No confused expectations, no unspoken agreements—this was love done business-style. It suited her perfectly.
Zeke would think it was ridiculous if he knew. But she was pretty sure that Zeke had a better reason for returning than just mocking her love life.
‘That’s not why he’s back.’
‘Are you sure?’ Helena asked. ‘Maybe this is just the first time he thought you might actually go through with it.’
‘You make me sound like a complete flake.’ Which was fair, probably. Except she’d always been so sure...until it had become clear that the men she was supposed to marry weren’t.
Helena sighed and picked up a hairbrush from the dressing table, running it through her soft golden waves. Thea had given up wishing she had hair like that years ago. Boring brown worked fine for her.
‘Not a flake,’ Helena said, teasing out a slight tangle. ‘Just...uncertain.’
‘“Decisionally challenged”, Dad says.’
Helena laughed. ‘That’s not true. You had a perfectly good reason not to marry those guys.’
‘Because it turned out one was an idiot who wanted my money and the other was cheating on me?’ And she hadn’t seen it, either time, until it had been almost too late. Hadn’t realised until it had been right in front of her that she couldn’t be enough of a lover or a woman for one of them, or human enough to be worth more than hard cash to the other. Never valuable enough in her own right just to be loved.
‘Because you didn’t love them.’ Helena put down the brush. ‘Which makes me wonder again why exactly you’re marrying Flynn.’
Thea looked away from the mirror. ‘We’ll be good together. He’s steady, sensible, gentle. He’ll make a great husband and father. Our families will finally be one, just like everyone always wanted them to be. It’s good for the business, good for our parents, and good for us. This time I know exactly what I’m signing up for. That’s how I know that I’ve made the right decision.’
This time. This one time. After a lifetime of bad ones, Thea knew that this decision had to stick. This was the one that would give her a proper family again, and a place within it. Flynn needed her—needed the legitimacy she gave him. Thea was well aware of the irony: he needed her Morrison bloodline to cement his chances of inheriting the company, while she needed him, the adopted Ashton son, to earn back her place in her own family.
It was messed up, yes. But at least they’d get to be messed up together.
Helena didn’t say anything for a long moment. Was she thinking about all the other times Thea had got it wrong? Not just with men, but with everything...with Helena. That one bad decision that Helena still had to live with the memory of every day?
But when she glanced back at her sister’s reflection Helena gave her a bright smile and said, ‘You’d better get downstairs for cocktails. And I’d better go and find my pewter shoes. I’ll meet you down there, okay?’
Thea nodded, and Helena paused in the doorway.
‘Thea? Maybe he just wanted to see you again. Get some closure—that sort of thing.’
As the door swung shut behind her sister Thea wished she was right. That Zeke was ready to move on, at last, from all the slights and the bitterness that had driven him away and kept him gone for so long. Maybe things would never be as they were when they were kids, but perhaps they could find a new family dynamic—one that suited them all.
And it all started with her wedding.
Taking a deep breath, Thea headed down to face her family, old and new, and welcome the prodigal son home again. Whether he liked it or not.
* * *
It was far too hot to be wearing a dinner jacket. Whose stupid idea was this, anyway? Oh, that was right. His father’s.
Figured.
Zeke made his way down the stairs towards the front lounge and, hopefully, alcohol, torn between the impulse to rush and get it over with, or hold back and put it off for as long as possible. What exactly was his father hoping to prove by this dinner?
Zeke couldn’t shake the feeling that Flynn’s sudden burst of brotherly love might not be the only reason he’d been invited back to the fold for the occasion. Perhaps he’d better stick to just the one cocktail. If his father had an ulterior motive for wanting him there, Zeke needed to be sober when he found out what it was. Then he could merrily thwart whatever plan his dad had cooked up, stand up beside Flynn at this ridiculously fake wedding, and head off into the sunset again. Easy.
He hadn’t rushed, but Zeke was still only the second person to make it to the cocktail cabinet. The first, perhaps unsurprisingly, was Thomas Morrison. The old man had always liked a martini before dinner, but as his gaze rose to study Zeke his mouth tightened and Zeke got the odd impression that Thea’s dad had been waiting for him.
‘Zeke.’ Thomas held out a filled cocktail glass. ‘So you made it, then.’
Wary, Zeke took the drink. ‘You sound disappointed by that, sir.’
‘I can’t be the only person surprised to see