The Wedding Engagement

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Liv didn’t bother to get up any earlier than her normal on Monday, now that she knew the person delivering her messages and treats was Sam and not Arran. But she still headed straight for the letterbox before having a shower.

The envelope contained a picture of Arran dressed like Regé-Jean Page’s depiction of the Duke of Hastings, and she let out a gasp when she saw it. “That is amazing,” she said out loud. He looked hot AF. She unfolded the letter.

Dear Aggie,

I hope you enjoyed the scones and that they reminded you of our afternoon tea. Another confession—that afternoon your outfit had me fantasizing that you were a hot librarian and I had my wicked way with you amongst the stacks. Speaking of which, I’ve watched the first series of Bridgerton as research after you told me I looked like the dude from the show. I’m thinking of investing in a library ladder…

Love, always,

Arran

“Holy shit.” He’d watched Bridgerton for her. And referenced that scene. A romance reader’s dream. Liv pulled at the collar of her T-shirt as her core temperature rose by a couple of degrees.

Then, all day, images of that very scene kept passing through her mind, except she was the one on the ladder with Arran’s face buried between her legs.

—

The next morning, when the envelope contained her nude charcoal sketch, Liv very nearly got out her phone to call him to come over. But something still stopped her—apart from the desire to see what the rest of the week brought in terms of his messages. It was clear he felt something for her. But was that enough? Was she enough? Did she even deserve him when she was so…dented, as her mother had put it? She opened the letter.

Dear Aggie,

This is an image I really, really hope I get to see again. That day was the hottest experience of my life. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever painted or sketched. More so than any spectacular view in Glenavie or the whole of Scotland. The world even. I want to paint you every day. Then get paint all over you and wash it all off in the shower.

Love, always,

Arran

—

Wednesday brought a beautiful photo of the May blossoms in Japan.

Dear Aggie,

The last time we spoke about travel, I very nearly asked you if you wanted to get something locked down and book a trip away together. I don’t know if you remember, but we were both naked on the sofa in my studio at the time. Which was fucking awesome by the way. I can’t look at that couch without getting a hard-on now. I’ve had to ban anyone from coming into the studio because if they see me staring at the furniture with a boner, then they’re going to think I’ve got some kind of weird IKEA fetish.

Anyway, the enclosed photo is an invitation to come on an adventure with me and Jayce.

Love, always,

Arran

—

The next day there was no envelope, nor any sign of Sam with a cake box. Liv headed to work, finding that her hopes were still so easily dashed despite the consistency of his messages.

She arrived at the nursery school, hanging her jacket and stowing her bag. Drop-off time arrived, and her kids entered the classroom one by one.

Jayce’s adorable face peeked around the corner, the last to arrive. His babysitter was usually the last drop-off. “Psst. Miss Lib.”

She smiled. “Yes, Jayce?”

“I need to show you something.”

“No worries. Just bring it in here, buddy.”

He shook his head. “It’s in my bag. On my peg.”

Puzzled, she stood. “Okay. I’m coming.”

He dashed off around the corner, and she followed him down the corridor to the pegs; he was standing by his bag, looking around furtively.

“What is it?” she asked him, stifling a laugh at how serious he appeared.

He unzipped his bag, which sported a picture of a noble steed. “In here.”

She peered inside, and there was a book. Puzzled, she lifted it out, discovering that rather than a book, it was a photo album.

“What’s this?” she asked Jayce, then realized she was speaking to his retreating form as he bounded back down the corridor toward the classroom, where her teaching assistant would be gathering the children in the reading corner.

Curiosity got the better of her, and rather than following Jayce back to class, she sat on one of the benches by the pegs and opened the album.

Her hand went to her mouth, tears pricking at her eyes.

Inside were Henry’s photos of her, Jayce, and Arran. And they were beautiful. She leafed through, stopping to admire each shot. Some were of her and Jayce on the beanbags, laughing together as they either toppled onto the bags or lay cuddling on them. And then some were of the three of them—Arran falling comedy-style onto the bag as she and Jayce laughed, Arran pulling them both down with him, and then the three of them cuddling. The first of those showed Arran and Liv smiling at Jayce as he giggled. Then the next showed Arran gazing at Liv as if she were the most revered thing in his universe.

Her breath caught, and tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She stayed there for a few more seconds, taking in every detail of the picture. Then she flipped the page over to reveal Arran’s writing on the inside of the back cover.

Dear Aggie,

I hope you don’t mind, but I intercepted Henry before he could email these to you so I could have them printed and bound in an album. I wanted to save this gift for last because it depicts what I want for our future. Our little family. I really hope you want that too.

I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.

Love, always,

Arran