“Yeah, Mum told me,” he replies flatly.
I bite my bottom lip in nerves. “Will you give me away, Brock?”
“Tash.” He sighs, defeated.
“Please,” I beg. “I need your approval.” My tears start to form. “I love him so much and we are so happy. I wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t treat me well. You know that deep down.”
He stays silent.
“I know you’re finished your deployment in four weeks. Can you come straight here to LA and spend some time with Joshua and me? Mum is coming over for the wedding and Bridget is here. We need to regroup as a family, Brock. This is a special time. Please don’t let Dad’s death destroy our family—it is not what he would have wanted. He would want us to be happy and getting along.” Tears overflow from my eyes.
He cuts me off. “I thought you were getting married in Thailand?”
I smileHe stays silent. “Let me think about it.” He sighs.
I smile broadly. At least he’s thinking about it. “I love you,” I reply.
“I love you too.” He sighs again.
“I swear to god if he hurts you, Natasha,” he threatens.
I smile again. “I don’t know much in this fucked-up world, Brock, but I know one thing with every cell in my body. Joshua Stanton will never ever hurt me. He is my soulmate and we are deeply in love. We are so happy, I promise.”
“Oh god, that’s pathetic,” he responds and I can hear him smiling. I know I’ve got him.
“So I will see you in four weeks?” I ask hopefully.
“I’ll see,” he mutters but I know that’s a yes.
“Bye Brock. Please be safe over there.” I put my hand over my heart as relief fills me.
“Goodbye, Tash, you too.”
I’ve worked it out. Yep, Albert Einstein has finally figured it out. The reason Joshua and I like small spaces and apartments is because we are in the same vicinity as each other. This house is so big that even the distance from the kitchen to his office is miles apart. I feel like he’s not even home half the time. I have just got off the phone from Adrian, Cameron and the girls. I’m cooking dinner tonight for everyo
ne and today I had an epiphany. If I’m going to be a Stepford wife… ahem… Stanton wife to be exact, I’m going to be damn good at it. I’m going to bake cookies and shit… like Martha Stewart on crack. I am lying on the bench reading through Birgetta’s recipe books.
“What about Lobster Vol au Vent?” I call out to Joshua who is reading the paper while lying on the lounge.
He flicks the paper down and looks over the top of it. “Really—Vol au Vent?” He frowns. “Keep reading,” he replies dryly.
Hmm, I keep turning through the pages looking for something that is relatively easy to make but tastes really difficult to make—the ultimate sensory illusion. I narrow my eyes. “This cooking is tricky business, you know?” I mutter.
Joshua puts the paper down and smirks. I smile and raise my eyebrows in question. Crap, I’m shit at this already. He wisely holds his tongue and goes back to his paper.
“What about Beef Ragu?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows again in question.
I shrug. “I just feel like something meaty,” I add.
He smirks. “Whatever takes your fancy, presh. Meaty is… different I suppose.”
Hmm, I hate it when they say whatever. I need a decision so I have someone to blame if it turns out shit.
Joshua’s phone beeps a text on the bench and I pick it up and read it. It’s from Ben.
Are you and Natasha free to have a meeting with Max and me now?