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She thought of him again, of that kiss, and she throbbed. She was no innocent. That was for certain. Not anymore.
She was far too well acquainted with what her body wanted.
But it was more than simply what her body wanted. She was more in tune with herself. Admitting it was Constantine she wanted, admitting it was him that she wanted, admitting it wasn’t Alex, it had brought about a deeper honesty with herself.
She was hiding and she knew it.
Knew not outright telling him there was no chance the babies were Alex’s was...
Protecting herself.
Yourself. Not your children. Yourself. Not him. Not really him.
“It is a good thing the wedding is to be this evening. Otherwise we might have to have another dress fitting between now and then. Pregnancy is so volatile.”
“This evening?”
“Of course.”
And after that, the whole day became a whirlwind. Her hair was fixed, her nails done, skincare treatments and peels applied. She was scrubbed and moisturized and buffed and masked and left glowing and tingling in the aftermath.
She hadn’t even had a chance to look at herself in the mirror when she was bundled into a limousine and whisked down the side of the hill.
She didn’t even know if she had a groom. She had not seen evidence that he existed the entire day.
The limo stopped in front of the church, perched on the edge of a rock, right on the sea.
“I don’t...”
The doors opened, and a woman helped her from the car. “You are to come and stand here in the antechamber. And wait for the music.”
“I...”
“My name is Agatha. I’m the wedding coordinator.”
Wedding coordinator. So she was here at a wedding. And presumably the groom was somewhere.
She pinched herself.
“What did you do that for?” Agatha asked.
“Because the entire day is starting to feel like a strange fever dream.”
“Well, considering I pulled the entire wedding together in less than two days, I’m inclined to agree.”
But she wasn’t the one marrying a man under false pretenses, so Morgan didn’t have a whole lot of sympathy for the other woman.
Maybe that wasn’t fair.
And when the doors parted to reveal a cascading palace of flowers inside the sanctuary, she thought she really was being unfair to the other woman, who had clearly worked much harder than Morgan could’ve imagined.
It was... Astonishing.
Pale pink and lavender flowers were strung from the floor all the way to the very top of the rafters, it was as if the entire building had been reconstructed of them.
It made the bedroom she’d been installed in back in Boston pale in comparison. For this was something else entirely. This was... It was magnificent. A marvel.
And then she looked at the head of the altar, and she saw him.
