Page 19 of This Woman Forever

I shower and shave in fifteen minutes flat, then throw on my suit and head for the door.

But I think of something.

And smile.

I grab some handcuffs, check myself in the mirror once more, and leave the room, bumping into John directly outside.

“What’s up?” he asks immediately.

“Nothing.” I’m not wasting any more time or energy on Coral. Not today. Not ever. I look up and down his suited form. “Fancy.”

“Fuck off.” He shifts on the spot, highly uncomfortable. Not because of the suit—he’s always in suits—but because of his role today. “Are you ready or what?” He turns and stalks off, yanking in the sides of his suit jacket.

“Have you got the rings?” I ask, tailing him.

“Yes.”

“And the registrar is here?”

“Yes.”

“And the guests?”

“All in their seats.”

“The music?”

“Sorted.”

“The—”

John stops abruptly, and I crash into his back, making him jolt forward on a grunt. “Everything is fucking done,” he grates.

I raise my brows. Someone’s tense. “Nervous?”

“Oh fuck off,” he snaps, getting his big body moving again, taking the stairs. I follow behind him on a smile, straightening my tie. “And why the fuck have you got a pair of handcuffs?”

I quickly slip them into my pocket, not answering him. He doesn’t need an answer, he’s merely trying to distract me from the fact that the big scary fucker is shitting bricks.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I follow John into the bar. Drew and Sam both have a Scotch in their grasps, and I’m more than surprised when John holds his hand up for Mario to pour him one. Fuck, he’s really nervous. John absolutely never drinks. I watch all three men gasp their appreciation and slam their glasses down.

“My man,” Sam sings, slapping my shoulder and taking in my new three-piece. “Fancy.”

John lets out a rare, rumbling laugh and points to his glass for Mario to pour another. Drew gives me a curious look, and I shrug. This is new to me too. “Are you ready?” Sam asks.

“Yep.” I fiddle with my tie again.

“No nerves?” Drew asks.

“None at all.” Get me down that aisle right now. “Ask him,” I say, nodding to the back of John’s gleaming bald head.

“Don’t ask me,” he warns in reply, not taking his attention off his second Scotch.

“There you are!” Tessa seizes me from behind and hauls me out of the bar. “Come on, boys,” she yells back before looking me up and down. “How many have you had?” she asks, pushing me on. “The last thing we need is a drunk groom.”

“You have no idea.” I laugh, hearing John cough. “I’ve not touched a drop,” I assure her, looking up the stairs when I hear a door open. The door to my suite? “Is she ready?”

“She’s ready.”

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