‘What was your sister’s name?’
‘Anna.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘I called her Annie.’ She held Meg’s gaze for a long time before she closed the door.
Meg stood on the doorstep, her mind racing. Anna? Anna was her own middle name. Megan Anna Hunter.
Chapter 20
Issy returned to the apartment that afternoon with renewed optimism. The meeting had gone well. They’d developed a new timeline, one they had some hope in hell of delivering on, and Warwick was totally on board, thanks to her little white lie about promotion opportunities at Ashworth Property. That was a stroke of genius. She would have to manage it carefully—hopefully he wouldn’t tell Spencer—but if he did pull this off, surely she could find him something satisfactory.
She’d had a moment of brilliance at the end of the meeting and suggested team drinks on Friday afternoon. She told Warwick she would book a function space at the Ashworth Park, but he’d pulled a funny face and suggested the Red Lion instead. She’d arranged it as soon as the meeting was over. They would have their own space off the main room, so she could do a little speech, and she would put money on a bar tab. If beer didn’t win them over, nothing would.
Towards the end of the meeting, it had occurred to her that moving to the Ashworth Park might not be a good look—especially in light of Warwick’s lecture—so she’d asked him (very politely) if he could sort out the issues with the display apartment. He assured her it would all be fixed before the end of the day. He even sent Paola, the traffic controller, to the grocery store at the bottom of the main street for some ‘bits and pieces’. Whatever that meant.
Now she dumped her Birkin on the bench—noting that the plastic cheese had disappeared—and opened the fridge, curious about what ‘bits and pieces’ she would find. She was pleasantly surprised. It was stocked with fresh fruit and veggies, yogurt, and some little microwave meals in plastic boxes. She reached for one— red Thai curry and green beans—and read the nutrition panel. The sodium content was high, but otherwise it wasn’t a complete disaster. She put it back and ran the hot tap. The water got hot under her hand, steam rising. A ripple of relief ran through her at the thought of a long, hot shower.
Her phone rang.Hugh. FaceTime.
Quickly, she took off her cap and pulled the elastic out of her hair—Hugh hated it when she wore her hair back; it made her face too long, he said—then she answered the call.
‘Hey, there,’ she said, as his face filled the screen, tanned against his white collar.
‘Good news!’ he said. ‘Just had an email from Cecily Morgan-Phillips, she’s had a cancellation tomorrow.’
Issy frowned. ‘Cecily who?’
‘Morgan-Phillips. The wedding planner. The one Nadia recommended. I emailed her the other day. She’s usually booked up for weeks apparently, but now she can do a Zoom with us tomorrow at eleven.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Issy swallowed. What was the rush?
‘I’m thinking September,’ Hugh went on.
‘September? For the wedding?’ Issy felt her heartbeat quicken.
Hugh laughed. ‘Yes, for the wedding!’
‘But that—that only gives us nine months. You can’t organise a wedding in nine months.’
‘Of course you can. Nine months is plenty of time. Nadia said Cecily’s vendors move heaven and earth to accommodate her clients. I figure, why wait?’ He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘I want you to be Mrs Thorburn as soon as possible.’
Issy’s chest tightened. Mrs Thorburn. Isobel Thorburn. Isobel Ashworth-Thorburn? She hadn’t even considered any of this yet, but it struck her as something they should discuss, rather than assume. It was her name, after all! Why did men think nothing of expecting women to change their names? There’d be rioting in the streets if someone suggested they should change theirs! She took a steadying breath. ‘It’s just … I don’t think I can do tomorrow, actually. There’s a lot going on down here—’
Hugh’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s just an hour, Issy. If I can manage to clear an hour, I’m sure you can.’
‘Well, maybe … I don’t know … I need to be onsite to—’
‘What’s the problem, Issy?’ His tone was sharp. ‘I thought you’d be pleased about this!’
‘I am! Iampleased, I’m just—’
‘Do you not want to marry me?’
‘Of course I want to marry you!’
He sighed and sat back on the lounge, away from the camera, running his hands through his hair.
‘I just need to focus on the project right now.’ She spoke softly, choosing her words carefully. ‘Idowant to marry you, Hugh. Of course I do!’ She swallowed. ‘Can we … can we just put a hold on the wedding plans until the new year? Do you mind?’
He shrugged and sighed heavily. ‘Okay.’
