The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

married to a man you don’t know?”
    “Okay,” Megan admitted, letting her gaze slide over the small crowd until it landed on her husband. “That’s strange, too.”
    “I can’t believe you did this.”
    “Yes, well, me neither,” Megan said and told herself she was imagining the heat of Simon’s gaze. “But better him than poor Willie.”
    “Father never would have made you go through with that,” Paige insisted.
    Megan shifted her younger sister a sharp look. “Have you met our father?”
    “Okay, maybe he would.” Paige pushed her hair back out of her eyes, covered the mouthpiece of the headset she wore with one hand and whispered, “Butwhat do you think he’s going to say when he finds out what you did?”
    Oh, Megan didn’t want to think about that. She really didn’t. Already, her stomach was churning in anticipation of the showdown that was looming in her near future. Her father would be furious. But, even he couldn’t make her marry someone else when she was already married.
    Laying one hand flat against her stomach, Megan breathed deeply, an old trick she’d been practicing for years. Deep, slow, even breaths were usually enough to curb the roiling nausea that confrontations with her father were sure to cause.
    “Yes,” Paige said, speaking now into the headset. “I’ll be right there.”
    “What is it?” Megan asked. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing I can’t handle,” Paige murmured and gave her sister’s hand a pat. “Just a minor crisis in the kitchen.”
    “If it’s Jean complaining about the caterer again, tell him I said that he has to—”
    “You’re the bride today, remember?” Paige asked, already stalking toward the back of the hall and the kitchens beyond. “I’ll handle it.”
    Megan nodded and fought the urge to run and take care of the problems herself. Since being put in charge of the events planning at the estate, she’d made a real name for herself. She worked hard, took care of every detail and had never had an event fail.
    “Thinking of skipping out on me?” Simon’s deep voice came from right behind her. Startled, Megan jumped and turned to face him.
    “Sneak up on people often?”
    “Didn’t sneak. Walked.”
    “Well, walk louder,” she suggested and tried to look past him at his guests, on the other side of the hall.
    “Time for some pictures,” he said and took her elbow in a firm grip.
    “Oh, Simon, I don’t think we—”
    “A real marriage,” he whispered, dipping his head so that his breath dusted her ear. “Remember?”
    “Right.”
    First, the happy couple stepped out into the sunlight for the benefit of the media gathered outside the reception hall. Cameras clicked, reporters shouted questions and through it all, Simon kept a proud smile on his face and one arm around Megan’s shoulders—just in case she got cold feet and made a run for it.
    But she didn’t. To give her her due, she stood her ground, lifted her chin and smiled beautifully for the media. He doubted Stephanie could have handled the situation as smoothly.
    Once the news frenzy was over, they stepped back inside to be surrounded by the small cluster of guests. More cameras flashed while people smiled and offered congratulations. Simon kept his arm around her shoulders and held her close, playing the part ofa doting groom to perfection. Megan chatted, smiled and posed for pictures until her cheeks hurt from smiling. She accepted champagne from a server and took a long gulp, hoping it would soothe her dry throat and scattered emotions.
    Simon’s mother, a small, elegant-looking woman with short, stylishly cut silver hair, wearing a paleblue designer suit, dabbed at teary eyes and gave Megan a warm hug. “My dear,” she muttered, “you look lovely.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Pearce.”
    “Please,” the woman said, “call me Phoebe. I just know that you and I are going to be good friends.”
    Oh, Megan felt awful. Phoebe was being so nice and Megan was lying. To her. To everyone there.
    Desperately, she tried to think of something to say even while wondering why Simon hadn’t explained any of this to his own mother, at least.
    “Phoebe, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to meet you before, but this was all very sudden and—”
    “Never mind, honey,” Phoebe interrupted as smoothly as her son made a habit of doing and Megan knew immediately where he’d picked up the trait. “I never cared for Stephanie, you know. Cold eyes. But you—” she stopped,