Sasha’s voice was a bucket of cold water thrown over him, and Tom looked up, instantly feeling guilty. “What?”
“Are you okay?” Sasha asked, and for the first time that morning, he heard concern in her words.
“Yeah,” he replied through a dry mouth, swallowing hard, and Sasha looked at him keenly.
“Are you sure?” she asked worriedly. “Look, Tom, I know I seem a little, well,sharptoday. I don’t mean to be. It’s just that, I really, really, really want Queen and Country Weddings... I want them to plan my wedding, Tom. It means a lot to me. Just like our getting married out there means something to you.”
“I know,” Tom replied, before he sighed and nodded. “I get it.”
Sasha stared at him for a long moment, her eyes hard, like two dark amethysts glittering in the light. Suddenly, theamethysts softened, Sasha’s eyes like morning dewdrops sitting on the petal of a flower, and she smiled at him.
“I know you get it,” she said sweetly, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re going to be a good husband for me, I just know it.”
Tom sighed again, dropping a kiss onto the top of Sasha’s head. When she wanted to, Sasha could be very sweet. They’d been together a long time, and he knew all the colours and moods of her personality now. Sasha swung between hard and soft, waspish and pleasant, like the pendulum of a fast-running clock. Tom knew why: Sasha’s work was demanding and competitive, and by default she had to be demanding and competitive too. Sometimes, and he was almost sure it was mostly unintentional, she brought home the hard-as-nails demeanour that made her a success in her field. When she wanted to though, she could be soft and warm and lovely, and they worked well together. When she wanted, Sasha’s sweetness showed him exactly why he planned on marrying her.
When she wanted.
“Queen and Country are going to put my wedding on the map, you know.” She wriggled out of his arms. “It will be the most talked-about event of the year, if not the decade.”
“Yes,” Tom agreed, even though a small voice inside him, the one he tried to keep hidden when Sasha was present, instantly spoke up.It’s meant to be our wedding, not just hers,the voice whispered.Why do you let her walk all over you like this?
Wrenching himself away from an unpalatable train of thought, Tom dropped his towel, moved to the wardrobe and pulled out an old sweater and pair of jeans. He could feel Sasha’s eyes watching him. When he turned, she gestured accusingly to the clothes he’d chosen for the day.
“Really?” she asked him. “Those rags?”
“I need to clear my head,” Tom told her. “Maybe get up into the sky. Take my dad’s old plane out.”
“Tom—”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “It’ll only be for a few hours. I’ll make sure I’m back and changed in time for... King and Queen... or...”
“Queen and Country,” Sasha finished for him tightly. “Fine. But make sure you’re back here and pristine by one o’clock.” For a moment, she looked at him. “And make an appointment with Dr Edelstein.”
He nodded as he pulled the sweater over his head. The heavens were dark, and heavy with the promise of coming rain, but he knew that above the clouds lay blue sky and bright sunshine. He longed for both. He’d fire up his dad’s old plane, take a quick flight into the sun before coming back down to the dark.
“I’ll see you soon.” He gave Sasha a quick peck on the cheek.
She waved him away. “While you’re out, don’t forget to call my father back.”
Tom stopped, repressing the urge to shudder. “Your father?” he asked, mouth dry. “Why?”
Myron Saffin, Sasha’s father, was a force to be reckoned with. Just as ruthless and cut-throat in business as his daughter, he was sharp as a tack and just as piercing.
“He invited you to his poker night,” Sasha replied. “It’s a big deal, Tom. He doesn’t invite justanyone. Make sure you go. Many of Daddy’s best and most successful business associates will be there. It will be the perfect chance for you to network.”
Poker. Tom inhaled sharply as a memory seized hold of him. He pictured long fingers holding a queen of spades, while bright blue eyes gazed warmly upon him. For a moment, he struggled with the wistful pang of regret that began to creep down his spine, ordering himself to pull it together. Looking down, hefound his fists were clenched and arm muscles taut. He made a point of relaxing them, of stretching them out, of pushing memories back into the past, where they belonged.
Taking a deep breath, he gave Sasha a long look, and for once his voice was firm and unyielding. “I’m not going to poker night. I don’t play cards.”
* * *
He found his mother on the deck near the lake, a coffee in her hand, already dressed in her finest, her grey-brown hair artfully styled. Marnie was staring out over the water, and Tom came up behind her, giving her a quick hug and kiss and laughing when she spluttered into her coffee.
“Tom! You frightened the life out of me, sneaking up like that,” she chastised him, and he grinned, leaning against a nearby wall.
“Too good an opportunity to miss. Sorry Mom.”
His mother looked him up and down, taking in his old clothes with a careful eye. “You look good . . . You arrived so late last night, though. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait up for you. I’m old and need my sleep these days.”
