The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 171

Chapter 171: Chapter 171: Pre Wedding Jitters

Aria’s POV

She dissolved completely, laughing so hard she had to put her own drink down.

When we finally settled, Olivia wiped her eyes and let out a long breath.

"You know what the next 2 days mean though," she said, in the tone that meant nothing good was coming.

"Don’t."

"Lots of sex, Aria." She said it like she was delivering important news. "Lots and lots of."

"Olivia"

"I’m your doctor, actually. This is a clinical observation. You have been deprived, and marriage means."

"I will throw this glass."

"You won’t, it’s expensive." She grinned. "Bitch, you are getting married in 2 days time, I can’t stop saying that in two days."

I laughed despite myself. "Fuck you."

"No, no, no." She pointed at me, delighted. "You are saying that to the wrong person." She leaned in. "That night, you look that man in the eye and you say" she lowered her voice "fuck me, papi."

I choked on my drink. "Olivia."

"I’m just saying "

"I sanctify my ears now too." I pressed my hand to my chest. "Because of you now , every single morning."

She fell sideways on the chair, laughing and completely unrepentant, and I sat there beside her, two drinks in, marrying Damien Blackwood in less than 3 days, and honestly, I couldn’t wait.

*********

Tradition said the night before the wedding belonged to the bride alone.

I’d ignored a lot of traditions in my life — some by necessity, some by choice, and the first time around, all of them by the nature of what the marriage actually was. But this one I chose deliberately, with both eyes open, because I wanted a night to just be with myself. To sit with everything before it changed.

Damien was at a hotel across town — his idea, and I’d been surprised enough by it that I’d let him explain before objecting. You deserve a proper wedding eve, he’d said, which was such an unexpectedly gentle thing to come from him that I’d only managed to say "you’re getting better at this" before he kissed my forehead and went to pack an overnight bag.

He’d texted twice since leaving. I’d answered both. The third text came at 9 PM, while I was sitting on the rooftop in the warm evening air with a glass of wine and Noah tucked against my side under a blanket, looking at the city below. I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow, this time forever.

I read it twice. Then I showed it to Noah, because he was right there and because I couldn’t help it.

He read it with the serious attention he gave to important documents, which at four meant moving his lips slightly and frowning at the unfamiliar words, and then he looked up and said, "That’s Daddy being mushy."

"It is," I agreed.

"It’s okay," he said magnanimously. "He’s allowed." He went back to studying the city lights. "Mama?"

"Mm."

"Is it going to be different? After tomorrow?"

I looked down at him — at the profile of his small face, the question sitting in it with more weight than most four-year-olds carried. He’d been doing this lately, asking the underneath questions, the ones that took me a moment to locate the honest answer to.

"Different how?" I said.

"Like—" He paused, working it out. "Will you and Daddy be different? Or just more the same?"

I thought about that.

"More the same," I said. "We’re already a family. Tomorrow just makes it official, puts it somewhere where everyone can see it." I pulled him a little closer. "You’ll still have both of us. I’ll still be your mama exactly the way I’ve always been. Daddy will still be Daddy. The only thing that changes is that we have a party and wear nice clothes."

"And I carry the rings," he said.

"And you carry the rings."

He nodded, absorbing this. "I’ve been practicing."

"Mrs. Dora told me."

"She says I’m very responsible." He straightened slightly with pride. "She said I’m the most responsible ring bearer she’s ever seen."

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