A Contract, A Wedding, A Wife?. Christy McKellenЧитать онлайн книгу.
at the bank and after twenty years he’d finally given up corporate life and they’d all downsized so he could run the board game café, a dream he’d had for years.
Sadly, he’d only worked there for five years before he died. Still, Soli was glad he’d had the opportunity to realise his dream. Ever since she’d lost him the café had become a symbol of hope for her, as well as a reminder that hard work and dedication paid off—something she’d been slow to learn in her younger years, to her everlasting shame.
Shaking off the guilt that always gave her a painful jab when she remembered how selfishly she’d acted in her teens, she got up from behind the counter to close up after the last stragglers made their way out onto the street, waving cheerily to her and calling their thanks. If only they had more regulars like them, the type that bought food and drink every hour as they played, the café would have some hope of survival.
She just needed to find a way to entice those types of people to walk through the door.
After locking up behind them and giving the floor a sweep and the tables one last wipe, Soli walked into the middle of the room and tried to survey it with objective eyes. Why weren’t people coming in as much as they’d used to? Sure, it was a bit shabby-looking now after years of wear and tear and it could probably do with a bit of sprucing up, but it had a friendly, comfortable aura to it, and didn’t people love shabby chic these days?
She hated the idea of messing with what her father had done to the café. He’d sanded and varnished the wooden tables himself, painted the walls, chosen the now slightly chipped crockery, and she couldn’t imagine any of it changing. It would be like wiping her father’s soul from the place.
She shuddered, hating the very thought of that.
No, she’d try advertising first, then think about any alterations they might have to make once the money was flowing in again.
Assuming they didn’t lose the tenancy in the meantime.
Taking a breath, she focused on calming her suddenly raging pulse. All she needed to do was marry Xavier McQueen and everything would be okay.
The utter bizarreness of that thought made her laugh out loud.
Shaking her head at the surreal turn her life had taken, she went to the till to make sure it had been cashed up properly, grimacing at the sight of the meagre takings for the day. Yes, something definitely needed to change.
Picking up her phone, she tapped in the number he’d given her. He picked up after two rings.
‘Xavier McQueen.’
‘It’s Soli.’
‘Hi,’ was all he said in reply.
There was a pause in which the weight of expectation hung heavily in the air.
‘So I checked up on you and it turns out you’re not an axe murderer,’ she quipped nervously.
There was a uncomfortable pause when he didn’t respond.
Okay, then. Jokes weren’t deemed appropriate right now. Wow, this guy was so businesslike.
Probably best just to get down to business, then.
‘So I’ve thought about it and I still want to go ahead with our deal.’
‘Great, that’s great.’ She could hear the relief in his voice. ‘I’ll arrange for a solicitor to draw up a pre-nuptial contract and another one that states the terms of our deal, which we’ll both need to sign.’ His tone was professional again now.
‘I’ll give notice at the register office that we want to get married but we’ll have to wait twenty-eight days before we can legally perform the ceremony. The closest one is near St Pancras Station, but I’m assuming you won’t have an issue with where the formality of it takes place.’ It wasn’t a question, she realised. ‘It’s not like we’ll be having a big celebration with friends and family,’ he added when she didn’t reply right away.
‘Er, no, that’s fine.’ The words came out sounding confident, but something deep in her chest did a strange, sickening sort of flip. This really wasn’t the way she’d imagined it happening. Getting married. But, as he’d rightly pointed out, this wasn’t meant to be a romantic event, it was a business transaction and should be treated as such. There was no room for any kind of emotional attachment. She’d make sure her real wedding, to the guy who loved and cherished her, was a big, exciting affair, with all her friends and family present. That one would be a cause for a true celebration. She just needed to keep that in mind when she signed the register. True love would come later in her life, when she finally had the time and energy to consider it a possibility.
‘Okay, good. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I’ve set it up. I’ll need some personal documents from you which I’ll swing by and pick up tomorrow, if that works for you?’
‘N-no problem,’ she stuttered, feeling suddenly as though her life was running away from her a little.
It’s not surprising; you’re getting married in a month.
A shiver of nerves tickled down her spine.
There was a lot to sort out before then, not least accepting the university place for Domino and finding a full-time carer for her mum, as well as giving notice at the gastro pub and hiring someone to cover her shifts at the café.
The mere thought of all the work and organisation ahead of her was exhausting.
This is for the family, she reminded herself as panic threatened to engulf her. And it’s only temporary.
In a year’s time her life would have taken on a whole new shape. She was doing this for all the right reasons and once she and Xavier were divorced she’d be free to fall in love and get married for real.
With that thought in mind, she told Xavier goodbye and hung up.
Trying to ignore the now almost overwhelming wave of nerves, she turned off all the lights in the café, hid a yawn behind her hand and trudged up the narrow staircase to the flat, first to check that her mother didn’t need anything, then to spend the next hour or so planning how best to kick-start the beginning of her brand-new life.
Scrabble—choose your words carefully.
THEIR WEDDING DAY was glorious. At least the weather was, with the sun pouring in on them through the large picture widows of the register office as they stood at the desk reciting the lines they were asked to say.
The huge room, with its rows of chairs facing the desk, was eerily empty except for Xavier and Soli, the registrar, Xavier’s friend Russell—the only friend he’d confided in and who had drawn up the contracts in his other role as a solicitor—and one other witness, who was a complete stranger to them all. Xavier had approached him outside on the street, pretending that their second witness had been delayed in traffic, and offered him a wad of cash for half an hour of his time.
Glancing around the room, he remembered all too well the last time he’d been in a place like this as echoes of a clawing sense of shame and dread pricked at his skin. He’d promised himself he’d never set foot in a register office again and hadn’t attended a wedding since his own disastrous debacle. He’d actually intended to avoid them for the rest of his life, if at all possible.
But he hadn’t counted on his Aunt Faith’s iron-like will.
So here he was again.
At least this time the bride had turned up and actually married him.
Well, you got what you wanted, Aunty. I hope you’re happy now.
Soli, to her credit, didn’t say a thing about the lack of guests or the stranger signing the marriage register beneath her name. In fact, she’d seemed more than happy to let him deal with all the arrangements