The Importance of Being Married (30 page)

My mouth fell open.

“I…I…” I looked back at Anthony. “You seriously want to
marry
me?”

“Of course he does!” Helen squealed. “You’re going to be Mrs. Milton. Oh, I can’t wait to tell Ivana and Sean.”

“Sean?” Anthony swung around. “Yes, you tell him. You tell him that she’s taken now.”

“I’m not taken,” I said firmly. “You’re not telling anyone anything.”

“Yes you are. Anthony just asked you to marry him. I heard him,” Helen said immediately. Then she turned to Anthony and stuck out her hand. “I’m Helen, by the way. I’m going to be her bridesmaid, aren’t I, Jess?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think there’s the small matter of me saying yes.”

They both turned to look at me expectantly, hopefully.

I shook my head. “I can’t…” I started to say, “I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Helen said impatiently. “You can, Jess. Come on, Deal, for God’s sake.”

“But…” I could feel my heart thudding in my chest. Helen grabbed me and pulled me to one side.

“What’s the matter?” she hissed. “You’ve got everything you want on a plate in front of you. Anthony Milton is proposing. You get him, you get the money, you get the house, you get to fulfill your promise to Grace. Why on earth wouldn’t you say yes?”

“Because…” I took a deep breath. “Because it’s all fake,” I said. “I’m not Jessica Wiiild.”

“No you’re not. Jessica Wiiild is you,” Helen whispered, firmly. “Jess, you can’t turn this down. Do you really want to walk away from four million pounds?”

“No!” I said defensively. “I just don’t want to…I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“Regret? Jess, you’d only regret saying no. Marrying Anthony who, incidentally, is utterly gorgeous, is the best thing that would happen to you. And you’re going to be a millionaire. What is there to regret?”

I swallowed. Helen was right.

“Nothing, I guess,” I admitted.

“Exactly,” Helen said, folding her arms. “So?”

I turned back to Anthony. “I can’t…” I turned back to Helen, who glowered at me. “I can’t quite believe it,” I continued. And I couldn’t. Anthony Milton had just proposed. There was nothing in the project plan to deal with this.

“Believe it,” Anthony said, taking my hand. “Jessica Wild, I want you to be my wife.”

“Your wife.” I said the words, but they still sounded strange in my mouth. Any minute now I expected someone to jump out and shout,
Surprise! It’s all a joke!
But no one seemed to be jumping. Not that I could see, anyway. I squinted at Anthony. “You really want me to marry you? Really and truly?”

“Absolutely.” Anthony nodded. “It’ll be a blast. Everyone’ll be gobsmacked. Me, married. Brilliant.”

I stared at him for a few seconds, and then I looked past him to the early-morning sky. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Could I? Maybe I could. I’d be Mrs. Milton, after all, just like I told Grace. And it would put an end to any dangerous romantic thoughts once and for all. I didn’t love Anthony; I didn’t have any expectations of him. In many ways it was perfect. If he left me, I wouldn’t care. I’d be insulated from disappointment for the rest of my life.

“Okay then,” I said, my eyes shining. “What the hell. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

Chapter 21

“AND THEN HE ASKED HER
to marry him. Just like that!” Helen poured some more champagne into her glass and looked triumphantly at Ivana and Sean, who were stretched out on our sofa. It was Sunday evening and after a weekend spent drinking champagne with Anthony and trying on engagement rings, I was exhausted.

“He ask you merry him?” Ivana looked surprised and I nodded defensively.

“It was all because of you two,” Helen said quickly. “You’re amazing.”

“Yes,” Ivana agreed. “Yes, is true.”

“And now,” Helen said tentatively, “all we need to do is make sure that the wedding happens soon. Like, in twenty-seven days.”

“Just under four weeks,” I added helpfully, taking another sip of champagne. I found that my comfort with the whole wedding business correlated exactly with the amount of champagne I consumed—if I waited too long before taking a gulp, the doubts and demons all began to surface again.

Ivana raised an eyebrow. “Is not longk,” she pointed out.

“Not long at all,” I said thoughtfully. “Actually, it’s virtually impossible.”

“Not impossible,” Ivana said firmly. “We find way.”

“Tell him you’re up the duff,” Sean suggested. “Shotgun wedding.”

“Shotgun?” Ivana turned to him, her face curious. “We heff shotgun wedding in Russia. But what is point in dead people here? I no understand.”

“Not real shotguns,” Helen said. “If he thinks she’s pregnant, he’s more likely to…you know, get on with it. The wedding, I mean.”

Ivana looked unconvinced. I stood up. “I’m not telling him I’m pregnant,” I said firmly. “No way.”

“Fine, but do you have any alternatives?” Helen asked.

I shook my head.

“Say you are romantic,” Ivana said suddenly. “Say you no want wait.”

“A romantic?” I looked at her dubiously. “I don’t really see that working, I’m afraid.”

Ivana shrugged. “Okay. Maybe you say no boom boom until wedding?”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “
You
could try saying no boom boom period.”

“You kip being jealous, you get no boom boom,” Ivana said irritably. She turned to Helen. “He know my job. Why now he heff to be jealous?”

Helen smiled sympathetically.

“Fine,” Sean said, rolling his eyes. “So, Jess, try asking Anthony. See what he says.”

I nodded uncertainly. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“Yes, you will,” Ivana agreed. “But if it no work, we need plen.” She looked at me seriously, then smiled, gold teeth appearing in her mouth like little stars. “You know, you not doing so bed,” she said graciously. “Better than I think you do. So, congratulations, yes?”

She looked around the room, holding up a bottle of champagne and bringing it to her lips.

“Yeah, congratulations,” Sean agreed.

“To Jessica Wild,” Helen said, grinning. “Or, rather, to Jessica Milton.”

On Monday morning, the moment I walked tentatively through the doors Gillie came rushing over (it turned out she could spot an engagement ring at ten paces) and screamed at the top of her voice.

“Sean!” she squealed. “You’re marrying Sean! He won you back! Oh my God—was it the barbershop quartet that did it? Or the flowers? Oh, will you look at the size of that diamond. Marie, come over here. Quick!”

Marie duly rushed over and they both sighed reverentially as I held up my left hand for inspection.

“Actually, it’s not Sean,” I said.

“Not Sean?” Gillie’s eyes opened wide. “You dark horse. Who gave it to you then? And do you have any other rich suitors tucked away somewhere to pass to me? I wouldn’t mind getting flowers every day, I tell you!”

I swallowed nervously. Ever since Anthony had gone home on Sunday morning (he’d been up for staying all weekend, but I’d made my excuses; as Helen had pointed out, an engagement wasn’t a wedding and I still needed some expert tutelage from Ivana and Sean), I’d been half expecting him to call the engagement off, to look at me sheepishly, tell me he was drunk when he proposed, and suggest that maybe we should cool things for a bit. But he’d texted me already today asking how his favorite fiancée was so, assuming the
favorite
bit was a joke and that he didn’t have a whole bevy of future wives tucked away somewhere, it appeared that the wedding was very much on.

“Darling, hello!” Anthony swept out of his office and planted a kiss on my lips. “So, what d’you think of the ring?” he asked Gillie, a big smile on his face. “Impressive, huh?”

I watched Gillie’s face contort with confusion.

“You? And you?” she asked, looking from me to Anthony and back again.

I nodded, not daring to speak.

“Seriously? You and Anthony?”

I nodded again.

“Getting married?”

“That’s right,” Anthony said, grinning.

Gillie shook her head in amazement. “But…” she said, helplessly. “But I never…I mean, you never…I never knew!”

“It hasn’t been that long,” I said tentatively.

“Long enough though,” Anthony said, as Gillie looked at my ring again.

I nodded awkwardly. Me. Engaged. It still took a bit of getting used to.

At that moment Marcia arrived through the double doors. Her eyes widened as she took in Anthony’s arm, Gillie’s rapturous face. Then she saw the ring. A look of uncertainty flicked across her face, but then she smiled, and took my left hand in hers. “You’re getting married?”

“We certainly are,” Anthony said happily.

“How very romantic. Quite the whirlwind romance.”

I looked at her in surprise. “It was quite quick,” I agreed.

“And she took some convincing, believe me,” Anthony said.

“You knew about this?” Gillie asked Marcia incredulously. “You knew they were an item?”

Marcia smiled smoothly. “Of course I knew. Oh dear. Don’t tell me that you were the last to know, Gillie. How awful for you.”

“I did know,” Gillie said stiffly. “At least, I guessed.”

“Really? Only you look like you’ve been run over by a high-speed lorry,” Marcia said. “Anyway, I suppose congratulations are in order. So congratulations.”

She smiled again, and I stared at her. I didn’t know quite what I’d expected from Marcia, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Yes, congratulations,” Gillie said immediately. “This is so exciting. But you need to start planning. Do you want a summer wedding or a winter one? Places book up quickly, you know. Ooh! You should have a wedding like Liz Hurley’s. Different locations. Three different dresses. And what about bridesmaids? Got it all sorted, have you? Oh, I love weddings, me. You need any help at all, I’m your woman.”

“Great! Thanks, Gillie!” I said, a fixed smile on my face. “But really it’s very early. I mean, we haven’t really had time to think about any of that stuff yet. Have we, Anthony?”

He smiled indulgently at me. “I suppose we haven’t. But that doesn’t mean we can’t start, does it? You tell me what you’d like, Jess, and let’s take it from there, shall we? Summer or winter wedding?”

I felt everyone’s eyes on me, and I blushed slightly. Now was my chance. But how could I suggest getting married in under a month? “Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual and relaxed. “I mean, we could wait and plan something for well into the future, or we could…maybe…you know, do it quicker?”

“Quicker?” Anthony frowned.

“Sooner, I mean,” I said quickly. “You know, just do it.”

“Just do it. You mean like Nike?” He was laughing at me, and I found myself blushing.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Marcia said suddenly. “I mean, over-planned weddings are so boring.”

Surprised to have Marcia as my supporter, I smiled and nodded at her. “Exactly. Far better to…you know, be impetuous.”

“To be impulsive?” Anthony said, his eyes lighting up. “To keep the element of surprise?”

“Exactly,” Marcia said triumphantly.

“But what about the planning?” Gillie said uncertainly. “I mean, how quick are we talking here? A few months?”

“Or…” I bit my lip hesitantly. “Or a few weeks?”

Anthony thought for a moment, then grinned. “A few weeks. Brilliant. We can book a register office, throw a little dinner afterward—it’ll be brilliant.”

“A little dinner?” Gillie snorted. “Anthony, you can’t get married and just have a little dinner. You have to do it properly. Come on, you’re Anthony Milton. People are going to want to see photographs. I bet
Advertising Today
will put you on their front cover again.”

“You do?” Anthony looked at her curiously for a moment, then nodded. “You know, I think you’re right. Maybe we should think big for this wedding. Get some PR going?”

“PR?” I asked, falteringly. “Really? Won’t it be expensive? I mean, a dinner would be fine, really…”