I laugh softly. “Well of course, but don’t worry. You don’t have to act like we’re in love or anything. My mother knows about this.”
“Oh, okay.” She looks relieved. “I guess I’ll wait for your call then.” She goes out through the door.
I close it then lean against the wood and smile to myself. “There you go, Grandpa. Ashley Winters and I are getting married.”
4
Finn
I look at my watch for the third time. Ashley is late.
I knew I should have gone to pick her up, but she insisted she didn’t want me to. She would come to my place and we could go from here together. I couldn’t really insist, as she clearly appeared not to want me to know where she lived. I could find out easily enough, but I figured it would be creepy to search out her home address and turn up there, even though that’s pretty much what she’d just done to me a couple of days ago.
I try calling Ashley’s mobile again, and again, but it goes straight to voicemail. The thought she has changed her mind is ever-present. I feel like launching my own phone across the lobby, but I resist the urge, and shove it back into my pocket.
It had been hard to convince my mom that this was a good idea. To pull off this marriage thing in a way so it won’t be obvious it’s a sham. My mom isn’t taken with the idea, but I guess ultimately, she knows nothing is going to change my mind, so she’s going along with it. But if she senses Ashley isn’t committed to doing this, she will be a nightmare to deal with, and quite frankly, I don’t have time to keep trying to persuade her.
I look down at my watch impatiently.
I’m really glad I told Ashley to be here an hour earlier than she actually needed to be. It gives us a bit of leeway, but if she’s much later, then we’ll still be pushing it.
If there’s one thing my mom hates above everything else in a person it’s tardiness. I can already picture the pinched look on her face when we get to the restaurant to meet her.
My phone starts to ring and I snatch it out of my pocket, expecting it to be Ashley explaining what the fucking hell she’s playing at. Instead, I see Tyson’s name on the screen. Tyson is my most trusted assistant, and I asked him to find out where the hell Ashley is. “Hello,” I bark into the phone.
“I’ve found Ashley. You’re not going to like this, Finn.”
“Don’t tell me. She’s panicked and booked a flight to Canada or something,” I say quietly, a cold claw gripping my insides. She has let me down and everything I’ve worked for, for so long is slipping away. Even though we both signed that contract, I know I can’t hold her to it if she really doesn’t want to carry on.
“Worse,” he adds. “She got arrested this morning. They’re holding her at the police station over on Heather Avenue.”
“Oh well, that’s just fucking fantastic,” I say, and to be honest, it might have sounded like I’m pissed off to anyone listening, but I am wild with joy. She didn’t change her mind. Hopefully, she hasn’t done anything too extreme and I can bail her out quickly.
I end the call, then phone my mother and tell her something important has come up. I will be late and ask her if we can meet later at her house. She immediately tells me it had been murder to get the booking at that restaurant so she will wait for me no matter how late I am.
I make my way outside, letting the doorman know I’m ready for my car to be brought around. My car arrives in seconds. I thank the valet and get in.
I put the car in gear and pull away, my tires screeching. I’m going to have to get her something to wear first too. Whatever she’s wearing is going to be wrong for the occasion, but I assume there’s no way in hell she’s going to want to go and meet my mother in clothes she’s been wearing in a jail cell.
I head towards a small boutique I know. I’ve taken some girlfriends shopping there and the owner is a friend.
As I step inside, one of the assistants approaches me. “Good morning, Mr. Jagger. Can I help you find anything today?” she asks, with a welcoming smile.
“Yes, actually you can,” I say. “I need a dress for my fiancée.” It feels bizarre referring to Ashley as my fiancée, but I guess I’m going to have to get used to that. “Something elegant. Something you’d wear to meet your new mother-in-law,” I add.
“Ok.” The assistant nods. “And what dress size is she?”