Becoming Mrs. Lockwood Read online

  “Julia, I’ll call him when we’re done here and I get Wren settled. Okay?”

  She sighed and nodded, returning her attention to the computer on her lap.

  “So, more on that, we’ll need to get Wren’s name changed as soon as possible, tomorrow would be best. Social security card, license . . .”

  “I’ll get Graham on printing up anything we need Wren to fill out. Not all of that can be accomplished so soon, but I’ll see what we can expedite and what favors I have up my sleeve.” She looked at me. “I’ll need some basic information from you as well.” Her gaze turned back to Weston. “Passport?”

  Weston turned toward me.

  “I have one in Indy . . .” The whole interaction left me standing awkwardly in the middle of the room and sounding just as awkward.

  Julia nodded. “We’ll get the necessary information to update it and send it in when it arrives. How long do you think it will take? To get everything here?”

  Months knowing my mom, but with Mike keeping her in line and out of memory lane, faster.

  “Umm, I don’t know. Maybe a week or two. I can call and ask my mom later.”

  Weston turned his attention back to Julia. “Set up an appointment for Wren with Sophie tomorrow. Tell her she has free rein. That should get her off my back for a few weeks.”

  “Who’s Sophie?” I asked, almost getting lost with how fast he was firing things off.

  “My personal shopper,” he responded without missing a beat.

  “No,” I said, interrupting him from his next chain of thought. I was putting my foot down. A personal shopper? Too much.

  His brow shot up. “No?”

  “I can manage just fine for now.”

  He ignored my comment and turned back to Julia, continuing to talk about me like I wasn’t there. “I also need you to call Scott. Wren needs a car. Tell him we’ll be in on Saturday.”

  “Do I have to stomp my foot and act like a child?”

  He turned and quirked his brow. “Do I have to act like an overbearing husband? This is all stuff you need, Wren.”

  “Fine, then give me a couple hundred bucks and point me in the direction of the nearest Old Navy.” Seriously, I didn’t need that much. “I’ll just go there. Oh, and a used car lot.”

  “No Old Navy if you want to keep the clothes. Sophie will set them on fire. And no wife of mine will be driving a used car,” he said. Julia was watching us closely, a smile lighting up her features. “We also need a list of the best private schools in the area.”

  What was wrong with Old Navy? I loved their clothes. They were my go-to store.

  “What kind of school?” Julia asked, her fingers typing more notes than what Weston actually said.

  “High school,” I chimed in.

  Julia’s typing halted again.

  “H-high school?” she asked, blinking up at us and then staring at me. “Weston . . . the press . . .”

  “Doesn’t have to know.”

  She shook her head. “We have to, at least, do a press release. If not, they’ll have a field day when they find out about her.”

  “No press release.” He stressed the words, so adamant on the subject that Julia dropped it.

  “Press release? W-why would you have a press release about me?” I asked, visions of the airport dancing through my head. It was too much to take in. The room started to spin, and I had to sit in one of the chairs while taking a deep breath to calm myself.

  “No press release. Not yet.”

  “People are going to notice that ring on your finger. You can’t hide that.”

  “Then I’ll take it off for now.” He looked down at it, spinning it around his finger before relaxing his hands to his side. “Which reminds me . . . when you talk to Sophie, have her bring some white-gold chains so Wren can wear hers around her neck while at school.”

  Weston’s list calmed down after that, and soon they began talking business. He had a busy schedule for the week, but he had Julia redirect some things in order to be with me and help get me settled.

  While they were talking, I shot my mom a text.

  Arrived safe to my new home in LA. What have I gotten into?

  An hour later she hadn’t responded, probably still on the plane.

  A few minutes later, we parted from Julia. She headed to Weston’s office, and we went up the stairs. The hallway he led me to was long as I peered down it, but we didn’t go far.

  “This will be your bedroom . . . for now,” he said, his demeanor a bit nervous as he turned the handle.

  The room behind the door was larger than any room in my mother’s house, and over twice the size of my tiny bedroom. Rich gold, tan, and red fabrics adorned the bed and windows. Cream and black painted dressers and end tables, a chaise lounge and chair by the window, and an adjoining bathroom finished off the space.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said softly as I entered.

  “You like? If not, there are other rooms, or we can get new furniture.”

  I shook my head. “No, I love it.”

  “Good,” he said with a smile and leaned in to kiss my forehead.

  I tilted my head up so that his lips met mine instead. It was light, sweet, and helped calm me. He grinned down at me and cupped my face, bringing it to him for a real kiss.

  His lips were soft at first, then his tongue slipped across, coaxing my mouth open. It was our first kiss all day, and it helped to relax the awkward air around us.

  His hands flattened out on my back, pulling me closer. My own hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, keeping him close as the depth and strength of our kiss increased until I was completely mashed against his strong chest.

  My whole body tingled. Needs I wasn’t used to crawled in, taking control of my muscles.

  “I really should stop.” His breath was hard, lips ghosting across mine.

  A desperation took hold, pushing me closer. “Yeah?”

  “This close to a bed? Oh, yeah.” He let out a sigh and drew his hands back, forcing me to do the same. He cleared his throat and reached down and pulled on his waistband. “I have to make a few calls. Why don’t you take a look around? Make yourself comfortable, unpack, whatever.”

  “Okay.”

  He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway. “Wren?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said with a shy smile before disappearing down the hall.

  My bottom lip ended up between my teeth. He could be so adorable. Very different from his sexy side, which was turning me into someone I didn’t recognize. I liked that I would, in time, get to know all of his sides.

  Turning, I threw my suitcase on the bed and opened it up. The items in my bag stared back at me, and we began a Mexican standoff. I wasn’t quite ready to unpack, especially considering I felt more like I was a guest at a fancy hotel, not wanting to bother unpacking, than my new home. I sighed. It was like I didn’t know how long I would be staying. I knew, in my head, I was my new home, but in my heart . . . not so much.

  My new reality was a stark contrast to the old, and the learning curve was daunting.

  Deciding to get my bearings of the monstrous mansion, I headed out to get the lay of the land. Walking down the hall, in the opposite direction in which we came, I found various bedrooms, some furnished, some not. Artwork hung from the wide hallway, all the way to the end where I happened upon a second staircase. There were more stairs than I was used to, thanks to the tall ceilings, and as I descended the stairs I was surprised to end up just outside the kitchen.

  Walking through the kitchen, I explored all the rooms we passed on our way to where we’d found Julia. Soon, I found myself in a large, windowed room overlooking the side garden, with a beautiful baby grand piano in the middle. I walked up to it, lifted the lid a bit, and let my fingers lightly tap on the partially exposed ivory keys. The sound bounced off the walls, a tinkling much like bells. It was literal music to my ears.

  I looked aro
und, and, seeing no one, I gingerly sat down on the piano bench and slowly lifted the lid all the way back to unveil all of the keys. I stared for a moment, swallowing thickly. I’d always loved playing the piano, but due to various reasons—money and work—I hadn’t played in over a year.

  I let my fingers softly ghost over the ivories and sighed as I began to play a soft, soothing melody. It wasn’t a tune I recognized, just whatever came to me. I closed my eyes, feeling the music, letting my fingers gracefully move over the keys to form the beautiful melody. My eyes opened and reality took hold, pulling me from the light, happy place I spent mere moments in. With a sigh, I stood and closed the piano before continuing on my way.

  Passing through another door, I found myself in a fancy porch-like area containing slate tile flooring, a water fountain, and lounge chairs. It looked like a wonderful place to spend time with a book and a cup of tea. It overlooked a sculpted rock pool, which was a paradise all on its own, complete with a waterfall, slide, and shallow lounge area, not to mention the plants and the circle I was pretty sure was a hot tub.

  Another door led to a formal living room that opened up into the large entryway. As I headed down the hall, I heard Weston’s muffled voice coming from behind one of the doors that I suspected was his home office.

  “No, Miles, it’s not like that . . . She had no idea who I was . . . Yes, I’m certain of it . . . She’s . . . Wren is wonderful.”

  My heart leapt from my chest at his words. Was there such a thing as love at first sight? Had I found it in Weston? There was something between us, for sure.

  “I know she’s young, I just couldn’t . . . I wanted to spend more time with her, we had a bit to drink . . . I know that isn’t a valid reason . . . yes, I know. Miles . . . Miles . . . Miles! I’m married! I’m staying married! We’ll get to know each other in time.”

  Not wanting to eavesdrop any longer, I headed up to my new bedroom, mulling over his other statements . . . Who was I married to? With everything, it was obvious my prince charming was more than he’d let on. I needed to find out, and soon.

  My suitcase was lying open, still staring at me, so I decided to just do it and unpack. It was weird not to have all of my belongings, to be starting from scratch in a way. I puzzled over where I wanted to put my clothes, laying out a mental plan of what went where. Not that there was much—it was only enough for a long weekend, and half of it was dirty.

  Thankfully I was an over packer, so I had a few days of wiggle room before I needed to figure out where in the behemoth of a house the laundry room was.

  My phone went off, and I picked it up to find a text from Mom.

  Long flight. Home safe. Mike says Hi. Talk to you after work tomorrow. Love you!

  And that was it.

  It was a life-changing event for me, but I was happy to know she got home okay. Unfortunately, she left her daughter over two thousand miles away.

  I had to admit, I could get used to it all. It was just difficult for me to accept such generosity from someone I didn’t even know. It felt awkward.

  My parents never made a lot of money, so Weston dropping more on me in one night than my mom made in a year was a bit staggering. From the time I was little, Dad used to tell me that nothing would ever be handed to me, and to rely on myself and hard word to get anywhere. It was his way of prepping me to make my mark on the world.

  “Wren?” Weston called from the doorway. He found me in the bathroom, organizing. “Wow, you settled in pretty fast.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “There wasn’t really that much to settle.”

  He leaned against the wall and smiled at me in the mirror. “Did you take a look around?”

  I turned to face him. “Yeah, it’s big and beautiful, and the pool is . . . I love the pool.” I didn’t know why, but that nervous awkwardness had returned. We stood there, neither sure of what to say or what to do.

  “Well . . . we should think about dinner.”

  “Yeah, dinner,” I agreed.

  “What do you like?” he asked.

  It was then I realized I didn’t even know any food he liked. There was so much that we didn’t know about each other.

  “Are you allergic to any foods?” I blurted out.

  “Umm . . . I have a dill allergy,” he admitted with a sheepish look.

  “Oh, I don’t cook much with dill, so that’s good.” Silence set in again. “Well, we could check out what you have, and I can see what I can whip up.”

  “What?” he asked, seemingly very confused by the prospect of me cooking.

  “Food. Cook. Dinner?”

  “Menu. Order. Delivered.”

  I quirked a brow at him. “You have no food?”

  “I . . . don’t cook, and I gave my chef time off until tomorrow.”

  He had a personal chef.

  There was a strong feeling in my gut that said the surprises weren’t going to stop for a while.

  “Weston, I can cook. I’ve had to almost every day for the past eight years.”

  “Why?”

  “My mom is a terrible cook, so I learned from my grandmother. Once I got some basics, I became the cook of the house,” I explained. “Mike’s pretty good, but he works second shift.”

  “Well, the cook has been off for the last four days, so I don’t think whatever food is left is any good. But, we do have a vast assortment of delivery.”

  “Chinese? Pizza?” That was all we had where I came from. Surely that was something that couldn’t be vastly different, right?

  He chuckled. “Not quite. How do you feel about some Chicken Marsalis, salad, and maybe soufflé for dessert?”

  I stared at him. “They deliver that?”

  He smiled and grabbed for my hand. “Yes. Now come, let’s go order and get to know each other a bit better.”

  After heading down the stairs to the kitchen, we found the menus tucked in a drawer. Out of curiosity, I opened up the refrigerator to find that Weston was correct—the shelves were pretty much empty.

  Weston watched me out of the corner of his eye, smirking, and I walked over, leaning on the counter next to him.

  We laughed as we went through the menus. It was unbelievable what some places would deliver. His body was touching mine, and I felt sparks move between us. I knew he did as well. Leaning down, he placed his lips on mine. It was soft and sweet, hinting at things to come. I couldn’t help but blush when he held my face in his hand, his thumb caressing my cheek as his eyes stared intently down into mine.

  I felt so safe and secure in his presence. So cared for, which was a change from what I was used to.

  Maybe this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Maybe Mom wasn’t so crazy after all.

  Maybe love at first sight wasn’t a myth.

  Dinner was enjoyable, the atmosphere from the previous night returning. Weston was sexy, playful, funny, and sweet. A deadly combination. Afterwards, we curled up in front of the TV and channel surfed, catching a few minutes of some reality show and a bit of a comedy movie. It was very relaxing, lying nestled into his side, his arm around me. I felt warm, safe, and cherished.

  That night, it didn’t feel like we’d only known each other for a few short days. Instead, it felt like years had passed and we were an average couple hunkered down for the evening. Two people just enjoying being together. I hoped that even after some time passed that feeling would continue, never to fade.

  When it was time for bed, he walked me upstairs and stopped in front of my bedroom door.

  “Goodnight,” he said as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

  I didn’t want him to pull back. I wanted to continue feeling his body against mine and the comfort he provided. He looked between his bedroom door and me, then with a long sigh, pulled away.

  “Night,” I said. It was delayed, and my voice faded off at the end.

  It took a few minutes to get ready for bed, but once my phone was plugged in, I turned off the light.

  But sleep
didn’t come.

  It was silent. Still. And a foreign environment. Nothing felt right, and I had the weirdest feeling of being off topped with sadness.

  While the bed beneath me was soft, it wasn’t my bed.

  Not my blankets or pillows.

  To top it off, the whole reason I was here was lying in the bedroom next to the one I was in.

  I couldn’t shut my brain off for hours, going over and over the last two days. Suddenly, I was hit with a desire to tell him I was sorry for seeming like an ungrateful brat. That I was happy he wanted me. To let him know I recognized how sweet, kind, and generous he was to me, and how much I appreciated him trying to make me feel comfortable.

  I rose from my bed, deciding to see if he was still awake, so I could tell him my nonsensical, sleep deprived, blabbering speech. The door was open, and I wondered if it always was, or if it was just because I was there and he wanted to be able to hear me. Standing in the doorway, I looked in to find him in the middle of a king sized bed, lying on his side with his arms wrapped around a pillow. He looked so adorable, and I couldn’t help but stare. He must have heard me, though I knew I barely made a sound, and his gaze lifted to find mine.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked softly. I nodded in response. “Me neither.”

  I hung my head and shrugged. “It’s just a little hard, strange place and all.”

  He moved the pillow back to its rightful place and pulled back the covers, opening his arms up. “Come on in, baby girl.”

  I smiled shyly at his pet name for me, then walked toward him and the inviting vibe he was projecting. Climbing in to face him, I pulled the light blanket up and lowered my head to the pillow. His right arm moved to rest on my hip and he pulled me in closer.

  “Why can’t you sleep?” I asked, relaxing in the warmth and smell of him.

  “I have a lot on my mind,” he replied, his fingers reaching out to smooth a lock of hair behind my ear.

  “It’s mostly about me.”

  Weston gave a rueful smile. “Yes. This is new and strange to us both. I hadn’t even thought about anyone outside of us knowing, and after evaluating it, there is so much more to this than just you and me being married. Julia was right. The press and paparazzi will go nuts when they find out about you.” He let out a sigh. “I think it’s in both of our best interests to let our marriage lay low for the time being. Then we can give thought about when and where to announce it. I can tell you, though, if they found out right now, it wouldn’t be good for either of us.”