It does not.
“Oh, you’re one of those girls.” Eliza is quick to add on, “I don’t mean that badly, love. You waited for the perfect moment, more power to you. I just can’t stand waiting for anything, let alone waiting for a good time.”
“I didn’t mind,” I tell her. And it’s true, I don’t mind. It’s not just Grant—though we clearly haven’t done anything together since we aren’t actually dating. I’ve never slept with anyone before. It’s hard, trying to date, let alone find that special someone, with a father as overbearing as mine. And I’ve always wanted my first time to be with someone that I really care about. Someone that is going to care that they are sharing an important moment with me.
It’s not about being stuck up. I just… don’t want it to be for nothing. Probably because there’s not a whole lot else in my life that I have complete and total control over.
“You look like you nabbed a good guy,” says Eliza.
“Grant is great,” I say, with a nod.
“I saw the way he was looking at you.” She winks and continues, “The wait can drive people mad with lust, but once it’s on, you’re guaranteed one hell of a good time.”
My cheeks go red at that. I can’t protest that because Grant and I are supposed to be together. Grant wasn’t looking at me with—
The cab pulls up, and we both get in. Our conversation is thankfully cut off. Thankfully, because the idea of Grant being excited to do something with me—to sleep with me—might be more mouthwatering than I want to admit.
It’s absolutely not the sort of thing that I should be thinking about, considering our arrangement, so I try to turn my attention back to our trip to the Garden, and the many shops that are scattered within.
I didn’t have anything planned out for the day, so this—this is going to be the kind of thing that only happens once. And I’m looking forward to it.
As it turns out, I’m excited about a lot of other things, too. Oops!
Chapter nine
Grant
Thebusinessmeetinggoeslong—it’s not boring, but it’s repetitive. And I’ll be honest, I’m more focused on what’s going to happen afterwards. A debrief at the bar with my dad and brother, and then hopefully a peaceful night with Ashley. The women are still off doing their own thing, and once the meeting comes to an end, we drift down to the swanky hotel bar. It’s a nice-looking space, fancier than any of the places near my lake house.
Then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less at the center of London, at a hotel as high class and expensive as this one. There’s a bright ring of lights around the ceiling, and several nice, black leather stools up at the front of the bar.
Don is still talking shop, but I’ve got something else on my mind. Once we’re all sitting, my father in the middle, my brother and I on bar stools on either side, I clear my throat and tip my tall glass of on-tap IPA towards them.
“I wanted to make an announcement, before this trip goes on any longer,” I tell them.
Charlie rolls his eyes. “If this is your way of saying that we should already take the deal, it’s a shit one.”
“It’s not. It’s about Ashley,” I say. I pause, taking a sip of my beer like I’m looking for courage. I’m not. I’m just making sure that I remember all of the lines I’ve come up with. “I just wanted to let you guys know that I plan on asking her to marry me while we’re here.”
Don gives me a clap on the shoulder. “I’ll be! I was starting to think you might never actually go for it. Congratulations, Grant! You know, she’s a fine one. I only spoke with her a little bit this morning, but I can tell that she’s a good seed. A good head on her shoulders.”
“So, you’re happy?” I ask.
Don nods. “As long asyouactually like her. Aren’t you going to congratulate your brother, Charlie?”
Charlie is giving me this uncertain, squint-eyed look. His gray eyes are searing into me, his mouth twisting a little bit, and there’s a flat tone to his voice when he says, “Yeah, sure. Congratulations. She seems great.”
“I think that this is the start to something great for you,” says Don. “I really do.”
He looks like he’s got even more to say, but there’s a ring from his phone. He pulls it out, and then checks it. An apologetic look crosses his face—it’s clearly something that he has to answer. I wave a hand at him, ushering him off.
“Don speaking,” my father says, standing up and walking away from the bar. The moment that he leaves, Charlie turns to me, still wearing the same expression.
“What’s the problem? I thought you would be happy for me.”
Charlie says, “You were serious?”
“Of course I am.”