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I’m curious as to what he’s referring to as we get ready to leave, but he doesn’t give me any clues at all. He smiles as he lets me in the Audi and we drive away from the house.
“Are you going to tell me yet?” I ask again, but he shakes his head.
“No.”
We chat all the way on the drive, but it’s about nothing significant. He asks how swimming went and if Janie’s making any progress on snaring Gerwyn, but I don’t have much to say on that other than I hope so.
“He should get on with it and make progress with her,” Ant comments. “Janie seems right up his street.”
I agree with him. “Janie’s amazing. I’d love to see them together.”
“Hopefully she’ll be Mrs Rhodes not all that long after you’re Mrs Bradstone. Gerwyn needs to knuckle down and get a love life. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be her he’s giving the cringeworthy dancing lift to during their wedding dance.”
I’d adore seeing that. Hopefully she’d manage to keep her balance for a bit longer than I managed to. I’d hate to see her face plant into her own wedding cake.
Ant drives into the centre of Birmingham, clearly aware of his route as we turn onto one of the prestigious shopping streets. I still have no idea what he has planned for us until he pulls up at a crazy designer looking boutique called Place of Mason. It’s upmarket enough to have its own car park for customers, and Ant swings into one of the spaces.
“We’re here, baby.”
I get out, a bit edgy considering I’m only in jeans and a cami top. I might have ridiculously expensive jewellery on, but I feel out of place. Ant looks high class in his tailored shirt, trousers and jacket like he always does, so I must look quite a contrast next to him. I only wish he’d have told me we were going somewhere like this so I could have been more prepared for it, but he didn’t.
He opens the door for me.
“You’re definitely a pretty woman, Cass, so let’s give credence to it.”
Of course. It makes sense now. I know what he’s referring to. Fuck knows when he managed to book in a consultation as he wasn’t due to be flying back from Berlin until this evening, but one of the consultants rushes over as soon as we’re inside, well aware of who we are likely to be.
“Mr Bradstone?”
Ant shows me off like a queen.
“Yes, and this is my beautiful girlfriend, Cassandra. Please suggest your very best for her.”
I’m wide-eyed as I look at Ant, struggling to digest his words. Even a skirt in this place costs more than one of the wedding dresses at our planning office.
“I’m Oscar, one of the fashion consultants here,” the guy says and shakes my hand.
He whisks us away across the boutique to the fitting rooms and I can’t see a single soul in here besides me and Ant. Is that a coincidence? I don’t even want to think about it.
“What kind of items did you have in mind?” Oscar asks, but I’m still in shock.
Ant answers for me. “Surprise us. I was thinking some beautiful evening wear, but the playing field is open. We’ll take whatever looks nice.”
“Take a seat,” Oscar tells us. “I’ll bring over some suggestions.”
The fashion consultant looks me up and down, assessing my measurements, then makes his exit, leaving me alone with Ant.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “But honestly, one dress is going to be more than enough. WAY more than enough. The prices in here are going to be insane…”
Ant’s smile is as self-assured as I’ve ever seen it.
“I know full well what the prices in here are likely to be, and you’re worth every penny. You’ll be leaving here today with the kind of wardrobe you deserve.”
The idea of that in itself gives me a strange thump in my guts. What I deserve. I deserve sweet FA after taking Claire’s fiancé in my pussy behind her back, but now definitely isn’t the time to be thinking about it. Ant’s incredible generosity deserves every drop of respect I can give, so I smile at him with another thank you.
He nods, and I adore his confident pride.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
Oscar returns with three dresses at once, all of them evening gowns. One is a glorious slip of a dress in pure teal silk. Another is a deep red Bardot neck with a beautiful split up the side. The third is in a deep, dark blue velvet with a hint of a train.
I can’t even imagine having one of these dresses, let alone all three of them hanging up in my wardrobe. I don’t want to know the price tags.
“Let’s start with the red one,” Ant says, dropping himself into a chair and leans back like Richard Gere.
